Rhapsody (The Bellator Saga Book 5) (2 page)

She gasped. He’d moved slowly but was starting to pick up his pace. Starting to get the edge in his voice that she adored. She could feel him with everything she had. “I know.”

“Say it,” he said. “Say how much you love this.”

She bit her lip. “I love this. I love you. Don’t stop.”

She would never forget this. She couldn’t. How it felt when he was inside her. The sway of his hips. The sweat trickling down his back when he increased his tempo. The way he’d move just right so she’d feel him even after he withdrew from her.

She never wanted to forget. Ever. And she swore she never would. They would always have this. The closeness and the tears and the madness and the passion, even in the midst of great uncertainty. She would always have him. Always.

*              *              *              *              *

A voice. Off key, but clear as day. Singing about tenderness and fear and laughter. About wrinkled noses and foolish hearts. A familiar tune with familiar words.

Her eyes tried to adjust to the light in the room. Caroline knew who was holding her hand.

“Jack?”

The singing stopped. “It’s okay, Caroline. I’m right here.”

Her head was killing her. It hurt to see. Could she move? Slowly. She could move slowly. She turned and saw her husband sitting by the bed, concern and fatigue in his eyes. Her lips were dry and she had a hard time finding words. She reached up to stroke his face. He looked like he’d been crying. What had happened?

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

He sounded so worried. Why did he sound so worried? Had she talked in her sleep?

“I had the worst dream,” she said. “We were - I was-”

Caroline looked around the room, which looked completely unfamiliar, unlike any hospital she’d been in before. She glanced at her left arm, where ligature marks and a crude tattoo were visible. Along with a disturbingly large IV needle poking out of the back of her hand. She swallowed and almost started coughing. Her throat was really scratchy.

“It wasn’t a dream, was it?” she asked.

“No, sweetheart.” Jack kissed the back of her hand. “But you’re alive and that’s all that matters. How are you feeling?”

Laughable to think that none of those horrible things had been real. How much time had she spent in pain over the past two years? And how much of it had addled her brain? She didn’t want to pout, but screw it. “My head hurts.”

Jack started to get up. “I’ll get someone to take a look at you.” 

No. She needed answers. Caroline grasped his hand tighter so he couldn’t let go. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

“Did I hear you singing showtunes?”

He smiled a tiny smile. “Maybe.”

“And American jazz standards?”

“I was going to go with disco next, since my recollection of Dorothy Fields and Jerome Kern songs was beginning to fade.”

A quite large and impressive songbook. “I love disco,” she said.

“I know.”

“You hate disco.”

“Believe me, I did a serious cost benefit analysis as to whether trying to wake you up with the Bee Gees was worth my sanity. So I stuck with the classics.”

He sounded pleasant. Cheery, even. Maybe singing agreed with him.

“That was a good choice,” she said. “It made me remember-”

No. He was in a decent mood. Caroline couldn’t wreck it. She wasn’t going to go there. And she was fairly certain he wasn’t too keen on going there either.

“We made a lot of memories dancing to that song,” Jack said.

Okay, he
did
want to go there. “Yeah.”

“So many wonderful memories. The night I first kissed you. The night of my inaugural. The last time we-” He closed his eyes. “That last night at the mansion.”

Caroline really, really did not want to walk down this road. Not now. Maybe not ever. The light tone in his voice had vanished. A change of subject was in order.

“What happened?” she asked him. “How did I end up here?”

“What do you remember?”

It all seemed so blurry. “We got to Nellis and set the bombs off. It appeared to work but everything was so quiet. We were hustling back to the helicopter and Rosen tripped once or twice and-”

“That field was mined,” Jack said. “Heavily mined. How you got to that building without setting one off was miraculous.”

Santos had never been a particularly clever individual. Unspeakably cruel and deceptive, but hardly a genius. That sort of crude defense perfectly fit his megalomania. The most damage at the least expense.

“What about our operative?” Caroline asked.

“Badly injured, partly in the rescue, partly from his caretakers at the facility. I don’t know all the details. Haven’t spoken with him yet. He’s still in pretty serious condition and will need months of rehabilitation.”

Well, that made her feel a little better. Their objective had been achieved even if their guy wasn’t in tip top shape. “Who else was hurt?”

Jack hesitated. “There were casualties.”

She’d figured that out. “Including me.”

“Yes,” he said. “Including you.”

Caroline closed her eyes. “Who didn’t make it?”

“Rosen.” Jack cleared his throat. “He bore the brunt of the explosion but you caught a good chunk of it too.”

She figured Rosen’s odds were poor but was grateful that no one else had been killed. Which probably made her a shitty commanding officer. “I was right behind him,” she whispered.

“You were doing your job. Making sure your troops got out safely.”

The standard line. “It could have been me.”

He clenched his teeth. “I’d prefer not to think about that.”

Caroline ran her palm over the sheet that was covering her. Starchy and sterile. Cold. “It was my job to get those guys out of there.”

Jack covered her hand with his. “Do
not
blame yourself for this,” he said. “From what you just told me, this wasn’t anyone’s fault. Except for the assholes who left all those IEDs in the ground to be inadvertently discovered by anyone who dared set foot on that base. That was a direct message from Santos. And he’ll pay for it.”

She brought her free hand to her head. “Anyone else hurt?”

“Bumps and bruises, scratches, a cut here and there. A twisted ankle or two. Nothing too major. They dragged you back here with some shrapnel in your shoulder and a gash on your head. You’ve been unconscious for some time.”

She’d been so dumb. So stupid. So selfish. Taking that mission, hurting him the way she had. Why was he still with her? “Am I going to be okay?”

“Isn’t that a relative term to you?”

Her husband still had his sense of humor. Good thing someone did. “Touché.”

Jack rubbed his thumb across her hand as she finally took a good look at him. Rumpled shirt, five o’clock shadow, red raccoon eyes - both of which were completely focused on her.

“You look like shit,” she told him.

He smiled mockingly. “Caroline, you say the nicest things.”

“How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

Jesus Christ. Every time she did something stupid, it got worse and worse. She was damn lucky to be awake in the first place. Caroline knew the answer but felt compelled to ask the question anyway. “How long have you been here?”

Jack let go of her hand and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “Three days.”

She stared at the ceiling. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

Had he forgotten the way she’d been acting toward him? One or two kisses couldn’t make up for months of mistreatment. “Because I don’t deserve it.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yes, you do.  The fact that you exist means you deserve it.”

His kindness was unnecessary. He didn’t need her shit. Not now, not ever. She could feel her emotions slipping away and had to do her best not to drag him into the void. “Whatever.”

“You really want to have an argument right now, after getting one hell of a concussion?”

If it meant she could save him, absolutely. And the best way to start would be by pushing him away for his own good. “The revolution must be suffering without its leader.”

Jack gave her a hard look, weighing his words. “You’re more important,” he finally said.

But should she be? “Right.”

He placed her hand between both of his and looked her straight in the eyes. “You are. You know you are. Caroline-”

Her lower lip trembled and she turned away from him. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. “Jack, I can’t do this now.”

He stroked her cheek. “When will it ever be a good time for you?”

It didn’t hurt to be honest. Maybe some blunt reality would make him realize she wasn’t worth the effort. “I don’t know.” She sniffled. “Probably never.”

“You’re going to have to face it sometime. Going to have to deal with us.”

Caroline knew he was right but damn him for saying it out loud. She weakly yanked her hand out of his. “There is no
us
,” she said. “Not anymore.”

She could almost hear him scowling at her. “You’re not the only one allowed to have an opinion on that,” he said. “You’re not the only one in this marriage.”

“Like that matters.”

“So what was that kiss about? The night before you left?”

What
had
it been? One last fleeting moment of happiness? A cheap gesture to make herself feel better about ditching him and flying into danger? Now it made her feel guilty for making him think she could somehow find a way to be good enough for him.

“That was a fluke,” Caroline said. “I was caught up in the moment.”

“Bullshit. That was real. You were all over me. And you did it again, right before you got on the fucking transport.”

Oh, like he hadn’t done his fair share of fierce kissing. Her awkwardness dissolved into anger. “You’re the one who shoved your tongue down my throat.”

Jack took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. “After you made it clear you wanted it,” he retorted. “You were humping my leg that night in your apartment. If I hadn’t stopped you, you would have ripped off my clothes. I could have taken you right there if I wanted to, but I knew you weren’t ready.”

It was easier to be angry. Easier to push him away. It was for his own good. Whatever progress they made didn’t matter. Not when she was in no position to enter into a normal relationship. She rolled her eyes. “
Taken
me? You’re such a conceited asshole, forever thinking with your dick. It was a freak reaction. That was all. I was nervous about leaving.”

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“And you can’t stand that our relationship is over,” Caroline snapped.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, then stopped.

“Look,” she said. “Maybe you should leave me alone. My head really hurts.”

“You know what? Natalie was right,” he said. “You
are
all over the place. You hate me but you want to kiss me. You get close to me then you pull away again. You can’t make up your mind, can you? The only thing you know for sure is how much you enjoy stringing me along.”

That one stung. She had no good counterarguments. Caroline tried not to sound defensive. “What else has Natalie told you about me? I thought those sessions were private.”

“They were. You’re telling me she never told you anything I told her?”

“No comment.” She blushed. “I mean it. You should probably leave me alone. Especially if you’re going to analyze my so-called ulterior motives.”

“And what, watch you continue to keep building this wall around you? I’ve been trying to tear it down, brick by brick, but each time I do you build it higher.” Jack gave her an agonized look. “You know, when you first came to, I thought-”

“What? That I’d regained my
joie de vivre
?”

His tone was wistful. “That would have been nice.”

She wasn’t about to admit she felt the same way, if only for a moment. But feelings were known to fade. “That woman is gone and you know it.”

“No, she’s not. You like to pretend she is. For the briefest of moments I saw that spark in your eye. And then it went away.”

He had too much foolish optimism for such an intelligent man. He’d seen enough of her to know what she’d become. “It’s not there, Jack. Not anymore. It’s somewhere in the Allegheny National Forest, abandoned like the rest of me.”

Caroline could tell from the set of his jaw that she had gone too far. Jack got up from his chair, stretched, and started to move toward the door, then thought better of it and turned around. He knelt down on what had to be an incredibly uncomfortable floor and put his clasped hands on the bed next to her, as if in prayer.  Even though he had his head down, she could see that his eyes were wet.

She’d done it again. And she hadn’t meant it. Not in the way he’d taken it. She’d intended to direct that comment at herself, not him. Never at him. All those ugly thoughts would rush out of her like water through a sieve. She had to learn to control herself. Every blow she landed wounded him even when he wasn’t a target.