Navy SEAL Noel (13 page)

Like volcanoes erupting, the thug's eyes shot fire through the air. Will knew he should back down. He knew that a mild-mannered scientist would bow his head and take a couple steps back. In the face of such danger, a lab rat wasn't liable to step toward the threat.

But Will wasn't a scientist. And he certainly wasn't mild-mannered.

Cocking his chin up a notch, he stared hard into Arturo's stunned eyes.

The bully frowned and dropped his gaze quickly. He was used to having men cower in front of him, but Will wasn't going to do it. Not anymore. He'd played their game long enough—sneaking through the shadows and caring for Jess mostly under the dark of night. It was time to stand up for them both.

“Manuel, take them back to the lab.” El Jefe, still bent over the used canister, dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

The guard did as he was told, corralling them down the alley, but he was too busy looking over his shoulder at the conversation still going on in the courtyard to pay Will and Jess much mind. Arturo and El Jefe continued their animated discussion about the successful demonstration they would take credit for as soon as Juan Carlos arrived. And from what they said, Will gleaned that he'd be there sooner than they had expected.

With a hand on her trembling back, Will ushered Jess to the far corner of the lab. He clasped her hands in his, not even bothering to check the level of the counter that might hide them from Manuel's gaze if he ever looked away from his boss.

Jess gazed up at him, blinking rapidly, her eyelashes covered with a fine sheen of tears. Cupping her cheeks with his hands, Will brushed his thumbs across the top of her cheeks, stealing away the moisture collecting there.

“Hey, tell me what's going on in your head.”

Her chin quivered, but she bit into her cheeks, screwing up her jaw against the telltale sign. She swallowed three times, but still didn't speak.

“I can't read your mind.” He stooped to her level while he smoothed the top of her hair in long strokes. “Let me help you. What's going on in there?”

“It's going to wor—” her voice caught on an unnamed emotion, but she twisted her face as she fought to finish “—work.”

“What is?”

“The Morsyni. The release mechanism. When they try to use it, it's going to work. Even without me. And I'll be responsible for it when that happens.”

Will's stomach ached as if he hadn't eaten in days. He'd give anything if he could take that weight from her shoulders. But she'd have to carry this experience with her. There was no getting around it. “Don't think like that. They're responsible for the actions they take, not you. They're trying to use you as a pawn.”

“I hate chess.”

A laugh bubbled up in his chest, and he had to cover it with a cough, pressing his fist to his mouth. He'd seen her playing with her dad one time, and she'd gotten so upset that she threw the board and all the little marble pieces on the floor. Of course, she'd been thirteen at the time.

This Jess had just as much spirit.

“It's a stupid game, and I'm really bad at it. But even I know that a pawn is the lowest piece, and I am not the lowest piece on the board right now.” The shimmering in her eyes vanished, replaced by a determined fire.

“Good. You're ready for a fight. Because we're about to get one.” He glanced toward Manuel, who had left the door open and wandered back in the direction of the courtyard. “It sounds like Juan Carlos might have moved up his visit. I think he's going to be here sooner than we thought, and he's most likely going to want to see what we've been up to. So we've got to look ready for him.”

Jess nodded, crossing her arms over her stomach and holding her elbows. “The attack?”

“As far as I know it's still planned for three days from now.”

She let out a low sigh.

“Maybe we can use Juan Carlos's arrival to cover our absence.”

God, let Amy and her DEA team find my GPS signal. We don't have much time. And we can't beat these guys through the jungle.

Jess gave another silent nod, and he wished he could trust his own words as easily. It wouldn't be quite so simple to get away with Arturo's eyes watching their every move, and that was before Will even thought about how they'd get to Panama City.

“Don't worry. We'll be out of here on our way back to the States long before they can lay a hand on the toxin.”

His words didn't even come close to convincing himself, and the doubtful look in Jess's eyes suggested they hadn't done much to sway her, either.

ELEVEN

F
or days in captivity the hours had been dragging by, each second a year, each hour a decade of mental torment. But when Jess knew that the moment for their escape had nearly arrived, time seemed to vanish before her, no minute long enough to make plans and cover their tracks. In the meantime her hands moved without pausing, preparing the pressurized canisters to carry the Morsyni for Juan Carlos's planned attack.

Over and over, she chanted in her mind,
This is not for real. This is not for real.

They would take the Morsyni with them.

Tonight.

No one would be hurt. She'd be responsible for no one's death. That reassurance kept her moving as Will worked in silence by her side.

He looked as if he was working on a similar project, cleaning the release valves. But instead he was playing with a six-inch piece of wire, bending and folding it until it disappeared around a button on the cuff of his shirt.

Sergio had watch duty, but kept his ear pressed against the door, likely listening for the commotion that would mean the boss had arrived. Finally, the blades of a helicopter cut the air, louder than a tornado.

When the pilot turned off the chopper's engine, the slowly subsiding roar of the rotors was replaced by exuberant cheers that reached them as though the building didn't even have walls.

Juan Carlos was either extravagantly loved or infinitely feared.

Sergio glared at Will and Jess, as though it was entirely their fault that he wasn't outside to watch the spectacle. He paced the front of the room, swinging his gun back and forth and mumbling to himself. Finally, he barked something and left, slamming the metal door behind him. After a short pause, a loud click secured the outside lock on the best exit from the room.

“Hope there's not a fire,” Jess said wryly. Will gave an obligatory chuckle. “What are you doing?” She was so used to keeping her voice low that the words were barely audible.

He looked innocent as he held up his sleeve. “You like it?”

“What's it for?”

“We're going to have to break into the lab tonight. They keep it padlocked when we're not in here, and I don't think I'll be able to get the keys before we need back in.”

“Where'd you learn to do that?”

“Huh?” One of his eyebrows flattened.

“Pick a lock.”

He shrugged. “Just part of the job. You pick things up all over the world from everyone you meet. I can blow up a brick of C-4, order a cup of coffee in Iraq, fly a Blackhawk. Well...in a pinch.” He gave her a saucy wink. “They'd never give me a license to fly one after I nearly took the last one into the side of a mountain when the pilots were shot.”

Not for the first time in the past week, she wondered who this man really was.

He was confident, but not obnoxiously cocky. He gave her orders as if he was used to having them obeyed. Even worse, they were always the best thing to do. There wasn't an unsure bone in his body, and she'd begun to rely on that.

“Luke taught me how to pick a lock his first week on our team. He said it helped him relieve stress.” Will reached for a can. “It's kind of like the job. Searching in the dark for the one thing that will make sense out of everything else that's going on. Most guys watch TV or get on the computer or call their families when we have downtime. Luke, he sits on his bunk and picks padlocks.”

“Who's Luke?”

“My best friend.” Will didn't look up from the release valve in his hands, but his words were a kick to her stomach.

Of course he had a best friend. She had good friends, too. Several of them, actually. Friends from school and women she'd met while volunteering at Pacific Coast House, a safe home for women and children who had suffered domestic abuse. Ashley and Staci, a pair of sisters-in-law who ran the home, had become surrogate family to Jess before her dad returned to San Diego and his new post as the XO of the base at Coronado.

But somehow, even after all these years of radio silence, she couldn't bring herself to call anyone but Will her
best
friend.

Maybe it was because he'd so magnificently violated the title that she couldn't easily give it out again.

Or maybe—and she had a twinge in her stomach that suggested this might be the case—it was just because she'd always hoped he'd come back and want the moniker again.

“He sounds...nice.” Was there a more inappropriate word? The guy picked locks to relieve stress. He was a navy SEAL. He was probably anything but just plain old
nice.

Will chuckled, deep in his throat. “Luke is...Luke. He's a good guy. The kind you want by your side in a firefight.”

“And how many have you been in together?”

Will's hands stopped moving, and he shot her a glance out of the side of his eye. “Why do you want to know?”

She shrugged, suddenly terribly uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation and all her thoughts about herself and Luke and especially Will. “Never mind. I know better than to ask.” Even though her dad had taught her not to, she'd made the mistake of asking a SEAL once about his recent mission. She'd let a grad school friend talk her into going to a pub that everyone knew SEALs hung out at, and when one started chatting her up, she'd asked where he had been deployed. He'd drawn up tighter than a cheapskate's purse strings. SEALs didn't talk about what they did. The mystery was part of their appeal to the women who frequented that pub.

And anyway, Will's missions were absolutely none of her business.

He scratched his chin, his fingernails rasping the week-old beard growing there. “We've been through enough for me to know he's the guy I want watching my six.”

“You trust him, then?”

“Of course.” Will's voice raised in an unspoken question as he gazed straight into her eyes, as if he was trying to read whatever was written on her heart. “Do you trust
me?
To get you out of here, I mean.”

The weight of his gaze, or maybe his question, was too much for her to handle. She turned away, staring at the point where her hands rested on the sleek black counter. She pressed them flat to keep them from trembling as a flood of emotions washed through her.

“Jess?”

“What do you want me to say?”

He stabbed his fingers through his hair, leaving a resilient section standing on end, before scrubbing his face with his palms. “I don't know. I guess I just hoped that by now you'd trust me on this mission.”

“I know you can handle the mission stuff.” The words popped out before she even realized they were on the tip of her tongue, but she knew immediately that they were true. “I can see that you're a good SEAL. I know you'll figure out a way for us to get out of here. It's just the rest...”

“What rest? Ten years ago?”

“Will, you were the
best
friend I'd ever had. I told you everything. Even about my mom leaving. I never told anyone else. Not even Sal knew that she didn't tell me she was going and never came back for me.”

Will's swallow was thick and audible in the sudden silence. “I didn't realize I was the only one you'd told.”

“I know. I didn't want to tell you, but you asked. And no one ever asked. Everyone who knew just knew. My dad. Great-aunt Eva. And everyone else seemed to think they weren't allowed to bring it up in front of me. I don't think your mom even knew the whole story. She just took me in like I was one of her own.” Stupid tears welled up in the corners of Jess's eyes, and she pressed the heels of her hands there to keep a breakdown at bay. Why did she always cry when she talked about her mom? Usually they were tears of frustration, but these were something else. Something deeper.

This was neither the time nor the place to dig into whatever that might be.

Will rubbed her shoulder, but she shrugged off his touch, the sensation too much to tolerate in her already hyperaware state.

“You were the most stable family I had. And then you just left. No note. No call. No nothing. For ten years. It was just like mom all over again. Like you'd decided I wasn't worth sticking around for.”

“I know. And I am so sorry.” His voice dropped, pain and another emotion she couldn't identify woven through every word.

“I don't want your apologies,” she snapped, then cringed and pressed her hand to her forehead, letting out a sigh between tight lips. Swiping her hand beneath her drippy nose, she took a stabilizing breath. “Sorry. It's just that every time I see you, all I feel is this terrible hole in my heart where my best friend is supposed to be.” She pressed her fist to the hollow in the center of her chest. “And all I know is that you're just like her.”

His face fell at her harsh words. “Oh, Jess, don't say that.”

“How else am I supposed to feel? Am I supposed to forget what you did just because you showed up this time when I needed you? Just because I needed to be rescued and you could help?”

“No, of course—”

“And you didn't come back because you wanted to. You came because my dad sent you.” Will opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue one or both of those points, but she waved her finger in the air to keep him quiet. “I mean, I'm glad that you're here, and not just because you're trained and capable of getting us out of here. It really is good to see you again. And I trust that you can do your job. I just...”

Oh, the words were there, but not. They were so close she could taste them, but they were bitter and hostile, and she wanted to spit them out, but couldn't find the way. So she swallowed them.

Just as she'd done with every word she'd wanted to say to her mother for sixteen years.

A muscle in Will's jaw jumped as Jess's voice trailed off, his mouth working in silent deliberation.

“I don't know what I want from you, but right now, I just want to get home in time for Christmas,” she finally said. “I want to sit in my dad's living room and give him a fishing pole. I want to eat his dry turkey, mushy stuffing and soggy pumpkin pie. I want him to hug me and promise me that this will never happen again. I want to spend my favorite holiday with the one person in my life who has never let me down.”

“I'm going to do everything I can to make that happen, but...” Will let out a strong breath through his nose. “I owe you an explanation.”

“Does it even matter?” She wanted it not to. She wanted that so much, and she prayed that saying the words would make it so. “You've risked your life for me at least a dozen times in the last week. Thank you for that. I appreciate it. But I'm not sure I can ever forgive you.”

* * *

Will had been shot before, but that hadn't hurt as much as this. It stung just to breathe, and it had nothing to do with the stale air. He rubbed a hand over his chest, trying to clear what was blocking his throat. Except he couldn't rub off the words that sank into his skin like a tattoo.

Still, his apology was incomplete. She deserved the truth—at least what was his to tell.

“I was scared, okay?”

Her head shot around faster than a hummingbird.

“I was a stupid kid, and I was scared of losing you.”

“So you did what? Made sure you lost me on your own terms? How'd that work out for you?” Bitterness dripped from every syllable, her eyes sparking with anger and frustration. She'd said she didn't want justifications, but the questions on her face flashed loud and clear.

At least she was showing emotion. And anger he could handle. It was the tears she'd had just minutes before that sent his stomach into a dive. She'd had ten years to let bitterness fester, and he didn't blame her for not forgiving him.

After all these years, he hadn't quite figured out how to forgive himself.

Inhaling deeply, he hunted for the right response.

“I didn't know how to be both Sal's brother and your best friend. I couldn't hope you'd say yes and no at the same time. It was like being torn in two.”

There were no maps for this kind of thing. Maps he could read. Directions he could follow. A compass and the stars could get him anywhere he wanted to go. But no one had ever plotted the words to say when words weren't enough.

“You're not making any sense, Will.”

“I know.” He shifted his weight to his other leg, suddenly craving a five-mile run in the sand almost as much as hearing her say his name again. “I didn't understand then and I still don't entirely. It was all too much.”

“What was too much?”

He sighed, glaring at the ceiling and begging for the right words to make her understand. “I think I was in love you. I was just too young, too insecure to realize it. I just knew I could
not
watch you marry my brother. So instead of telling you what I was feeling—or even dealing with my feelings at all—I took the coward's way out.”

“I don't...I don't understand. That last night in your car. Why didn't you tell me?”

“And have you do what? Ask me why? Suggest that I didn't want you to be a permanent part of my family?” He grabbed onto his hair at the roots and yanked. Pain helped him focus, and in that moment, he desperately needed help to keep his words on track and his voice calm. “You would have made me tell you. And at the time, I didn't even know why. But I knew that Sal's ring on your finger was going to change things between us. I didn't want that.”

She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, making it red and plump, and sending his mind where it had no business going, recalling recent memories of his lips pressed to hers.

“So why did you stay away?”

“Because.”

“That's the best you can come up with? I thought you were smarter than that. Most SEALs are.”

His skin suddenly felt too tight, and his blood was pounding too hard, nearly drowning out her taunt.

“I mean, you knew I turned Sal down, right?”