Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers (148 page)

"Then why… the way you acted."

He intertwined his fingers with hers. "I couldn't tell you why I'd come. Dennis suspected from the beginning that the informant was either Hal or… or…" He dropped his gaze to their joined hands.

A sick feeling wiggled its way through her stomach. "Or me?"

He exhaled sharply. "Yeah. When we found out Hal was on his way to see you, I went in wired, hoping he'd confess."

"So that whole thing was a trap for Hal?"

"Not just that, Angel. I hoped he'd let the story spill, then you'd be cleared, but more I was afraid… Afraid he'd kill you. Afraid I'd lose you again."

She ignored his last few words—couldn't really comprehend them—because one thought spiked through her brain, fragmenting coherent thought. "You believed I was the informant?" She stared at him, pain lancing her heart. "You believed it all along, didn't you? Just as Hal intended. That's why you married me. That's why you…" Her hands flew to cover her mouth and she glanced away. "Oh, God. That's why you pretended to love me." It had all been an act. That much was clear. Of course, he'd pretended to love her. What better way to gain her trust?

"Angel, I wasn't pretending."

She glanced back at him. "No?"

"How can you not know how I feel?" The agonized words tore softly from his throat.

Angel gazed into his eyes and saw love clearly scrawled across the canvas of his soul.
Love. He really loves me.
New tears pooled in
her
eyes before starting a slow descent down her cheeks. At her tears, Frank's expression turned grim. Slowly, he started to pull away from her, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back, her hand firmly planted on his forearm.

"Frank…" She hesitated, still feeling a little too vulnerable to be the first to speak the words.

Frank saw the moisture swell in her eyes and felt his heart breaking. Those tears told him clearly how she felt. She wouldn't forgive him. His betrayal had severed their last chance at love. He wanted to pull her into his arms to comfort her… but he couldn't. Right now, it hurt too much knowing he was losing her.

"I'm sorry, Angel. I had to come and explain… and ask you to forgive me. I know it's asking a lot… after what I did. I… I don't know of any way to make it up to you. I can only hope that you find it in your heart to understand."

Angel felt Frank withdrawing, pulling into himself. Why was he putting barriers between them?

"Frank, I knew…" She bit her lip, remembering her doubts. "I mean, deep down inside, I didn't believe you'd gone over to the mob. And…" She licked her dry lips, knowing she had to tell him what was in her heart. "And I love you."

"Oh, God, Angel." Gently, he pulled her into his arms, careful of her injured shoulder. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"You had to do what you did. It was part of the assignment."

He nodded, stroking her hair. "I never wanted to hurt you. When you were found snooping in Vendetti's office, I had to pretend to turn you in to gain their confidence. Blowing your cover was the only way I could ensure your safety. I hoped you'd have faith in me…" His voice trailed off. Her head pressed against his chest and his lips caressed her temple. "And you did," he whispered roughly. "Oh, God, Angel, you don't know how much that means to me."

She gazed up at him, her eyes still brimming with tears. "Frank, I couldn't stop loving you. I had to believe in you, in us. It's all that kept me going."

"Angel." His voice was soft, tender, and so was the pressure of his arms as they tightened around her.

He put a finger under her chin and raised her face to look at him. His mouth slowly descended and captured her lips in a gentle caress. She found it difficult to breathe. The weight of her emotions settled heavily on her chest. He broke the kiss and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away her tears, but new ones kept coming.

As he gazed at her, he felt his heart pulsing with overwhelming emotion. He couldn't believe she was here in his arms, telling him she loved him, after what he'd put her through.

"I hope these are happy tears."

She nodded and spoke in broken sobs. "Yes. I was afraid we'd never be together, but I held onto the dream. Now the dream has come true."

"I love you. I have for such a very long time."

She took the handkerchief from his hand and wiped her eyes, then she let the soft cloth fall as she wrapped her uninjured arm around his neck and pulled his face to hers for another kiss. Her breathing was still laboured, but this time because of growing passion. When their lips parted, he smiled and in that smile she saw all the warmth and love she remembered. It filled her heart, thawing the terrible deep freeze she'd been in for the past month.

He stared down at her, his eyes shimmering with heat. "Angel, we're still married, you know. That was for our cover, but I… Well, I…"

He pulled her against him, her head tucked against his chest. "Good grief, how do you propose to your own wife?"

Angel's heart swelled with joy. She grinned and stroked her fingers through his hair. "That works just fine, Frank."

"So you'll be my wife for real?"

"Let's just say that I absolutely refuse to give you a divorce, and as I recall, annulment is out of the question."

His hands cupped her cheeks and he kissed her exuberantly. When he pulled back he stared lovingly into her eyes.

"Angel," he whispered, "I'm sorry about your cover… your life as Angela Tortina. I know how much it meant to you."

She smiled and shook her head. "Don't be, Frank. For a long time, all I had in my life was a desire to get back at the mob for what they did to my parents." She glanced down. "And to me."

He stroked her cheek tenderly.

"But that was because I didn't have anything, or anyone, else in my life." She cupped his cheek and whispered, "But now I have you. It's time to replace that empty life with one full of love and trust. Only you can give me that."

He took her hand and pressed her palm to his lips. "I love you, Angel. And…" He patted his pants pockets, then, obviously not finding what he wanted, reached behind him to pull his jacket across his lap. She watched as he tugged a blue velvet box out of his pocket and snapped it open. She reached out and touched the tiny angel charm threaded on a delicate gold chain that lay cushioned inside.

"It's beautiful, Frank."

He lifted the necklace and fastened it around her neck.

"I know your name is no longer Angel, but no matter what you're called, you'll always be the sweet Angel I first fell in love with."

—The End—

About the Author

Amber Carew

Amber Carew is the pseudonym of Opal Carew, under which Opal writes steamy romance.

As a
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of erotic contemporary romance, Opal Carew writes about passion, love, and taking risks. Her heroines follow their hearts and push past the fear that stops them from realizing their dreams… to the excitement and love of happily-ever-after.

Opal loves crystals, dragons, feathers, cats, pink hair, the occult, Manga artwork, Zentangle, and all that glitters. She earned a degree in Mathematics from the University of Waterloo, and spent 15 years as a software analyst before turning to her passion as a writer. She grew up in Toronto, and now lives in Ottawa with her husband, and three cats. One of her sons just finished a Masters degree at Sussex University in the UK and is now pursuing a second Masters at Carleton University in Ottawa. The other son has just completed his undergraduate degree at Carleton University. Yes, mom is proud!

To hear about Opal Carew latest releases, you can sign up for her newsletter at
OpalCarew.com/newsletter

Website:
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Additional Books by Opal Carew

PLAYED BY THE MASTER

RIDING STEELE

BLACKOUT

by Denise A. Agnew

Dedication

To my husband, Terry, who has always believed in me and supported me every step of the way.

You’re my hero.

Author’s Note and Acknowledgements

The science of EMP (Electromagnetic Pulse) and solar flare is complex, and there is controversy on the full effects of EMP. Acknowledgments must go to the following people for their assistance with the science and for locating people who could help me with the technical points:

Jason Efken

Meredith Efken

Piper from Weapons_Info Yahoo Group

Marianna Jameson

Blackout: Chapter One

Sun Coast Hotel

Phuket, Thailand

December 26, 2004

The waves came for Cassie, rushing and swirling. Bright sun lit the water and turned it to glass, prisms of light almost painfully bright. She stood like a mannequin, unable to move, her mind frozen in a dawning horror that swallowed her breath and paralyzed her limbs. As the water grew frothy and white at the top, drawing closer, her mind screamed for her to abandon the chaise and paperback, to find wings and fly to safety. She did, leaping up, arms and legs pumping as she put everything she had into a few seconds where terror nipped at her heels and threatened to swallow her. She ran. And ran. But she couldn’t escape. Water slammed her with brutal force. It covered her head, choking, strangling her—

“No!”

Cassie Kovac jerked awake, unsure if she’d spoken out loud. Her heart pounded, her mouth was dry and her limbs shook. She glanced around the dark room and tried to get her bearings and remembered where she was. Second floor of the Sun Coast Hotel. Sitting on the love seat with her back to the sliding glass door that looked out upon the devastation two floors below. She was safe in this moment, but if she went to sleep the dreams would come. This dream would come again, and she’d be running. Running as the water hit her.

Bile rose in her throat, but she held it back. She’d already upchucked twice since this had all started. The granola bar she’d consumed earlier sat in her stomach like wood. The room was stuffy, but she didn’t dare open the sliding glass door. No, she didn’t want to hear the ocean, to acknowledge it was out there. A huge killer with lethal teeth, a monster so large no one could escape it. But she had escaped, and the miracle stunned and humbled her. Tears gathered in her eyes and for the first time since the tsunami, she cried. She was silent as tears trickled down her cheeks, the irrational thought that she must keep quiet. The ocean outside was listening, trying to find her, waiting to finish the job it had started and kill her.

Darkness grew until it surged at her like a monster. It was thick, a suffocating band around her throat as the day’s stress pounded her into submission. It felt as if eyes watched her, and she feared for her sanity. She heard her own breathing growing louder, and grabbed for the flashlight on the coffee table. She switched it on and blessed light flooded the immediate area.

“You’re safe,” she said out loud, her throat tight, her breath short.

She rubbed her arms and a huge shiver rocked her frame. She’d dressed earlier in dry jeans and the t-shirt recently purchased at the nearby market that declared with bright colors that she’d visited Phuket.

All gone.

The market had floated away hours ago in the tsunami that had rushed into the area this morning.

Everything she’d worried about, the reason she’d come to Thailand, suddenly seemed incredibly unimportant in the face of so much tragedy. She thought back to her other travels, how good she’d felt stretching her independence and proving to herself that she was whole and capable. Today had been filled with surviving, helping others, then dragging herself to this room for the little bit of rest she could find. She was so damned tired she ached with it.

Don’t sleep.

Her mind had fought slumber for hours, afraid the dream would come. Even when she wasn’t dreaming, images bombarded her. Men floating away. Children screaming. Women calling for loved ones they couldn’t find. Might never find. Another vicious chill racked her body and she rubbed her arms again. Maybe she’d lived because she had a purpose, and maybe her purpose was to help people as best she could tomorrow. Rescue had come and more help would arrive, but in the meantime she relied mostly on herself.

Sleep was out of the question, so she fought it by singing a song and pretending she was back in the United States in her cozy apartment. Tomorrow when the sun rose, she would face whatever might come. If she’d learned anything from today it was that life could change in one minute. In one second. And there was nothing she could do about it. No way to be safe.