Rogue Soldier (7 page)

He finished packing his backpack and nodded. The sky was clear, the endless stretch of freshly fallen snow reflecting the full moon, so there was almost as much light as during the day.

He moved forward, following in her tracks, hating the awkward silence that settled back between them. He had promised to leave her alone, but this didn't seem right, either. If he were here with one of the guys from the SDDU, they would talk about old operations they had pulled together. That wouldn't work with Tessa. Clearly, she didn't want to be
reminded of their shared past. With the guys, the topic would invariably end up being about women—yet another bad idea for this situation.

He kept his mouth shut.

The freshly fallen snow made for hard walking, regardless of the snowshoes. Instead of gliding on top, they kept sinking in. There were more obstacles in their way than before; the strong wind had knocked over a couple of scrawny trees, piled snow high in spots while clearing the ground in others.

One wrong step could land a person waist-deep in the snow, so they both paid attention to where they stepped. At least the land was flat, and he knew it wouldn't be long before they reached the end of the forest and were out on the open ice. The going would be faster, for sure, but they would also be easier to spot from above. He pushed the thought away. There was no sense in worrying about something he couldn't change.

The only sounds were the crunching snow beneath them and their breathing. She was tiring; he could tell from her uneven stride. There was no wind to block, so he let her lead, let her set the pace. A boulder blocked their path and she slowed but made no attempt to go around it. Snow had piled high on both sides. It would be an easy matter to go right over.

She went up, slid down on the other side. He
followed. Then all of a sudden the earth moved beneath him.

A deep roar rumbled through the silence, as he tried to keep his balance, his arms flailing. He was being lifted up.

The second roar came, much louder than the first. The white snow beneath him rolled to the side and gave way to brown shaggy fur. God help him. He slipped and for a moment found himself sitting on the shoulders of a very large grizzly, right before the animal twisted, and he finally rolled to the ground.

The bear saw him, turned and swiped him with an enormous paw that sent him flying through the air, hitting the snow with a thud. His head swam for a moment, then his vision cleared and he saw the growling grizzly, moving toward him with its giant teeth bared.

Where was the rifle?

He searched the snow, desperate, calculating how fast the animal would reach him. It was in no rush, still shaking off sleep, confident in its ability to take care of one rude human.

Where was the damn rifle? He spotted it at last, the very tip of the barrel sticking out from the snow—too far away. He went for the knife in his boot, not a weapon to make much of a difference, but if luck was with him he could buy Tessa enough time to get away.

He tossed his glove, wanting to feel the handle in his bare palm, needing as good a grip as he could get. All right. Here came the beast with lumbering steps, shifting its weight now to its hind legs to better tower over him.

He didn't look at the face and the fearsome teeth now. He was watching the muscles, waiting for them to bunch, calculating when the animal would lunge at him. He needed all the leverage he could get. He came up into a crouch just as a snowball passed by the grizzly's head and smacked into his parka, in the middle of his chest.

What the hell?

“Over here!” Tessa screamed from somewhere behind the animal, and her next missile was aimed better, hitting the beast's ear.

It didn't even pause.

The next thing to come flying their way was a branch, then a pair of boots in quick succession, one right after the other, each hitting the bear in the back of the head. The animal turned with an enraged growl.

Mike swore.

As if just now realizing the trouble she was in, Tessa took off running over the snow, her snowshoes strapped to her sock-covered feet. She was no match for the grizzly who was over the fallen tree and in full pursuit within seconds.

Snow flew up as its giant paws smacked down, its massive body shaking the ground.

Mike lunged for the weapon. There. He cleaned the snow off and aimed. His fingers were trembling for the first time ever—not from the cold. He willed them to still, looked through the crosshairs.

No, not the heart. With an animal as huge as this, even with a hole in its heart the muscles would keep on moving for seconds, long enough for the beast to reach its prey. A head shot was difficult from behind. There was no more than ten feet now between the grizzly and Tessa.

Mike closed one eye, his heart stopping mid-rhythm as he aimed for the hump behind the bear's head. He squeezed off a shot, didn't dare to take a quick second for fear that the bear would jerk aside from the force of the first and he would hit Tessa.

He watched, his mouth dry, as the grizzly slammed into the ground, its spinal cord severed. It was dead, but its momentum carried it, and it slid forward with dagger-sharp claws stretched toward its intended victim.

Mike leaped forward. Too late, too late. God, he'd never moved faster in his life. But he was late. He saw Tessa go down. How bad was she hurt? He was almost there, then vaulted right over the bear to get to her, a roar of desperation caught in his throat.

She was sitting in the snow, looking stunned, two giant paws on either side of her, the snowshoe on her right foot literally in the bear's open mouth.

He took a moment to swear good and proper as he gasped for air, bracing his hands on his knees.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled at her the next second, then gathered her into his arms and squeezed her until she made some sound. Then he remembered his promise not to manhandle her again and set her aside.

“Don't you ever do that again.” The blood was slowly returning to his head.

He sank down where he was, on the grizzly's head, couldn't find the strength to move to a better spot. His hands started to shake again, then his whole body. “Why in hell would you do something like that?”

She seemed to gather herself and gave him a thin smile, but her face was still as white as the snow at her feet. “I knew you would save me. You never could help yourself.” The smile widened into a grin.

“Are you laughing at me?”

She nodded with mirth. “I've never seen you this shook up. That bear really scared you, didn't it?”

She didn't have a clue. “Yeah,” he said. “The bear scared me.”

Like hell it did. The sight of her in harm's way was what had cut him off at the knees.

She was still grinning.

He buried his head into his hands and groaned. Somebody had to either shake or kiss some sense into her. He couldn't have done the job even if he had the strength for it. He had sworn he wouldn't touch her.

“Has to be at least eight feet tall, if not taller.” She measured up the bear.

He glanced behind him. It was definitely that big. And she'd gone up against it with snowballs and mukluks.

For him.

To save his life.

Something squeezed his heart; a funny fluttering feeling spread through his stomach.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Same here.” Her expression turned serious. “Good shot.”

“Lucky shot.” He'd been so scared for her it was a miracle he'd been able to see straight.

“Do you think it was the same bear that attacked the cabin?”

He got up and looked at the beast. There was no way to tell, they hadn't seen that one.

“Could be, they roam pretty large territories. Could be it was following us and got ahead of us in the storm.”

“As much as I didn't like being stalked by wolves, the idea of being stalked by a grizzly sounds even worse. I'm glad you took it out.” She was looking straight into his eyes.

“Me, too,” he said, and, thinking of the alternative, felt his knees go weak all over again.

She skirted the bear and walked back.

“Where are you going?” He wasn't ready to let her out of sight just yet.

“Getting my boots.”

He got up and followed her. His backpack was somewhere back there, too. It had fallen off when he'd rolled off the bear.

“Now your feet will be wet,” he said, looking at her snow-covered socks.

“At least I still have feet.” She shrugged, and he felt a flash of anger that she didn't take the danger she'd been in seriously enough.

“We'll start a fire.”

His insides were still shaking.

His next step took him directly into a giant paw print in the snow. His boot filled only about half of it.

She had followed his gaze. “I can't believe we killed a grizzly. This is turning out to be one kick-ass adventure.” Her eyes sparkled, and he could practically see her swimming in adrenaline.

“Do you know how many hours I spent daydreaming about missions like this while I was stuck in that stinking trailer?” She grinned.

He gathered some wood and thought of the crazy missions he'd been on, daydreaming about Tessa. Funny that while she'd been wishing for more action and danger, he'd been wishing for her, the only action on his mind in connection with her being X-rated.

She was driving him crazy.

He got the fire going, using the bear as a windbreak, and made her sit long enough to get dry. When they were done, he threw on his backpack and moved out, Tessa walking next to him.

She was going on about the bear and all the other exciting stuff she was going to get to do once they caught up with the bad guys.

He blocked her out. If all went well, they'd be in Nome by morning. And then he would lock her into the first hotel room he could find while he went and took care of business alone.

“Don't even think about trying to leave me behind in Nome,” she said.

Scary how well she knew him.

She still didn't get it, though. “I want you safe because I care.”

Her sky-blue eyes went wide for a second, before they hardened. “Obviously not enough. If you cared
about me, you would care about what I wanted. You never understood.” Her shoulders slumped as she turned away.

He really did want the best for her. But then why did he feel like such a jerk? She was right; he didn't understand. He had never understood. That was how he had managed to break her heart. “Explain it to me then.”

She turned to him with a look of surprise on her face. Surprise that he was willing to listen? Hell, had he been that big of an ass?

“For one, I don't want to be anyone's little fragile woman, tucked under some man's wings.” She took a deep breath and paused, waiting for his rebuttal.

He decided to do the smart thing for once in his life and just listen.

They left the last of the short twiggy trees and bushes and reached the barren ice fields at last. Man, it was cold.

“I want to be able to trust the man in my life,” she went on cautiously. “And I want him to trust me. Not just trust me not to cheat or something like that, but trust me to take care of myself, trust me to back him up when needed.”

“I do,” he said, and he meant it. “But to let you step into the way of harm— It goes against everything I am.”

“I'm not one of your little sisters.”

“Don't I know it.” He shook his head. Truth be told, his three sisters had grown up while he wasn't looking and resented his efforts to protect them, with as much vehemence as Tessa did. They especially hated his talks with the boyfriends when he was in town. Not that he tried to intimidate the guys or anything.

“It's the way I was raised. Do you know how many times my grandfather told me that a Scotsman's biggest responsibility in life was protecting and loving his woman, giving his life if needed for his family?”

A smile hovered over her full lips. “Yeah, you're a regular laird of the mist. Wanna step out of it and enter this century?”

He didn't. Not really. Right about now he would have been perfectly happy living in a less-civilized time when nuclear weapons hadn't yet existed, somewhere he could throw her over his shoulder, take her back to his castle, and that would be the end of that.

And for a moment he could see clearly—the two of them in an ancient tower room making love on a blanket of shaggy wolf pelts in front of the fire. He could have sworn he felt the heat of the flames.

He shook his head and picked up speed, his snowshoes gliding forward with ease. She had him tied up in so many knots, he was hallucinating.

 

M
IKE WALKED
, squinting against the bitter wind. All the canned food from the cabin was gone, no trees anywhere near and no chance of a fire. Tessa was struggling with each step now. He hoped they wouldn't have to spend another night on the snowfields.

They plodded on in silence as night fell, the stars coming out one after the other.

His eyes caught something in the distance, making him look harder. He grabbed Tessa's arm and pointed.

“What is it?”

“Lights.”

“Nome?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But probably one of the outlying villages.”

“Let's go then.” She picked up speed. “I'm ready to face the bastards.”

“Feeling better?”

Tessa blinked her eyes open as Mike came into the room with an armload of shopping bags. A moment passed before she remembered that they were in Nome's Lost Nugget, a quaint bed and breakfast on the edge of the small Arctic town that its inhabitants insisted on calling a city.

“I can't believe I fell asleep.” She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, blinked the sleep from her eyes. The short nap did little to remedy her exhaustion. All it did was make it clear she needed more sleep, lots more.

The aroma of food wafted through the door—probably lunch being prepared downstairs. Her stomach growled.

Mike dumped his loot next to her, looking at her with those swirling cinnamon eyes that were now
filled with heat as they slid from her face to her bare shoulder. Then he shuttered his expression and stepped back. “Did you make it into the shower before you passed out?”

She pulled her shirt back into place and shook her head. She'd sat down to undress. That was the last thing she remembered.

“Want to do it now?”

“You go first,” she said. He'd just come in from the cold, while she'd been snoozing under the blankets. He needed warming up more than she did.

“Okay.” He grabbed a bag, then closed the bathroom door behind him.

The fact that he didn't crack a joke about not being selfish and invite her to share the bath was beyond weird and completely out of character. Then again, he had treated her with nothing but professionalism since her embarrassing breakdown and the following bear attack. This was what she wanted, wasn't it?

Maybe not exactly this. The old Mike had gotten on her nerves from time to time, but the new Mike plain freaked her out. His behavior was…unnatural, confusing, irritating. Even more so because she wouldn't have admitted to missing the old Mike if her life depended on it.

She scooted closer to the bags and rifled through them—a change of clothes for her and a small first
aid kit. Then she found the source of the mouthwatering smell that filled the room and forgot about the rest of the stuff as she ripped the takeout containers open.

Barbecue ribs and French fries, a smaller container filled to the brim with a generous slice of apple pie, everything still hot. She stared at the bounty, regretting some of the uncharitable thoughts she'd been entertaining about Mike over the last few days. He had remembered her favorite foods.

The meat melted off the bones, the ribs cooked to perfection. She shoved a few French fries into her mouth, scarfing them down, realizing all of a sudden how truly starved she'd been. Relief flooded her as the food hit her stomach.

They had made it to Nome.

Over the last couple of days of snowstorms and other misadventures, she hadn't been always sure. But they were here in the city and they were alive and unharmed, save her feet, which needed some attention, not quite used to this much walking.

She was licking clean the plastic container that had contained the apple pie when Mike emerged from the bathroom. His dark hair was still wet, glistening in the light, his face clean shaven. He wore gray thermal underwear that covered him from ankle to wrist.
Snug
was the operative word. Tessa glanced away, then back. Little of his body was left to the
imagination. Not that she had to imagine it. It had always been there in its wonderful, muscled glory, living permanently in her memory.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, and looked down at the empty containers, suddenly embarrassed. “It was for me, right?”

“I don't eat French fries,” he said with disdain.

And that was true. Mike was more into health food when he had the choice, not that he wouldn't eat any number of disgusting things when he was forced to it. The rattlesnake stew came to mind.

“How did you pay for all this?”

“Western Union.” He grinned. “You've gotta love them.”

“You've made contact.”

He nodded. “More than one. The Colonel put me in touch with Shorty. He's down by Fairbanks, working on this case. He'll try to get over here by tomorrow morning. I filled him in. He promised to give me as much help as he can. If he can swindle a chopper for a couple of hours, he'll provide me with backup.”

And just like that, all the fuzzy gratitude over the ribs was gone in a moment, replaced by swift anger and a sense of betrayal. “
You
are going to have backup?”

“I thought you should stay here. I'll arrange for a transport for you. The Colonel is going to help you with the CIA. I explained everything to him. He is
not going to let them get you caught up in some kind of witch hunt. Shorty is going to throw his weight behind us, too, although that might just anger Brady more. They can't stand each other.”

She could tell from his face just how pleased he was with his arrangements. “Michael Fergus McNair—” she came to her feet “—I've been sitting in a godforsaken trailer for the past eight months, taking readings. If you think you can cut me out of the action now, you have another think coming.”

She picked up a bag and threw it at him. It felt so good, she threw another.

“Easy now.” Mike ducked. “I've been worried you might react like this.”

“But you don't give a rat's ass, do you? You and your me-macho-man-must-protect-little-woman attitude.”

The third bag hit the bathroom door an inch to the left of his head. And with that she was out of ammunition.

“As I was saying—” An infuriating little smirk played at the corner of his lips. “I was worried you might not take to that idea, which is why I asked for approval for you to join the mission, considering the likely case that you would follow me, anyway.”

Her mouth hung open. Had he really done that?

He made a show of carefully picking up the
bags and their spilled contents and putting everything on the table.

“Did I get it?” She held her breath.

“I'm sorry. Did you get what?” He looked distracted as if he'd already forgotten what they were talking about.

She threw a pillow at him. “Did I get permission?”

“Oh, that.” He started to shake his head as he picked up the pillow, but then a huge grin burst across his face. “You did.”

She wanted to jump on the bed like a five-year-old. “Thank you,” she said as dignified as she could, regretting her earlier outburst. She grabbed the clothes that were meant for her and walked by a foolishly grinning Mike with her head up. She closed the bathroom door behind her, then locked it, needing to be in separate airspace if she was to keep from throwing herself into his arms.

She was in, officially in, on the action.

“I found out about the smugglers, too.” Mike's booming voice came through the door right next to her, startling her into moving away.

“Did we miss them by much?”

“Just barely. They had some rough weather up here, too. The men and the crates shipped out this morning.”

“How soon can we follow them?”

“At daybreak tomorrow. Two boats are headed
out for Uelen, one Russian, one American. Well, the Russian for sure. The American captain is still thinking about it. There's a lot of ice in the strait. They're saying in a normal year shipping would be closed by now. It's only because of the mild weather they've been having that the harbor is still open.”

“Will Shorty be here by morning?”

“No,” he said. “But he knows to follow.”

She stripped out of her clothes, glad to be done with the garments she'd worn for the past week without change. The bathroom was still steamed up from Mike's shower, soothing and comfortable. Hot water came at once, and she stood under it soaking up the heat as her muscles relaxed.

She was going on a top-secret commando mission. She grinned. This was what she'd wanted to do all her life. She was going to be so damned good, they'd never want to let her go.

Tessa lathered shampoo into her hair and rode a wave of blissful optimism.

By the time she was done, Mike was lying on the middle of the bed, palms under his head, eyes closed. He still wasn't dressed, the thermal suit stretched over his muscles. Lord, but he had a fine body. At that moment she wanted it so badly it bordered on the pitiful.

“Are we staying in?” She would have felt much
more comfortable if they went out scouting the harbor and the town, anything really that got them away from the intimacy of the small room and that bed.

“Until nightfall. The place is crawling with CIA.”

“Do you think they know the smugglers were here?”

“Hard to say. They might just be covering all their bases. Looks like their search had been extended to the whole of the state.”

“Do you think they know we're here?”

“Unlikely.”

She looked at the small, uncomfortable-looking armchair in the corner. “Are you going to sleep in the bed?”

“Unless you object.” He opened his eyes. “Yer a bonny lass, but I'm a mite too tired for mischief just now,” he said in the Scottish brogue of his grandfather.

His eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion. He was worn-out by their trek through the wilderness, and so was she. The hot water had relaxed her muscles and they were begging for the bed.

Who was she kidding? Her body was begging for Mike's—especially when he talked like that—but, unlikely to get him, it was willing to settle for the bed.

“Fine.” She sat on the edge of the mattress, and he scooted over giving her more than sufficient room.

She stayed as far from him as possible without falling off.

“Now who doesn't have any trust?” he remarked dryly, and the bed shifted as he came up on his elbows. “Come to think of it, for someone who demands unconditional trust, you are awful stingy with it.”

She was not. She turned to set him straight, but he cut her off before she could say anything.

“You don't trust me to know when you need help and to give it.”

Was he right? Even as she asked herself the question, she knew he was. “It's dangerous to trust someone. What if they let you down?” God knew, she'd been let down before.

“What if they won't? You don't have to be strong every second. It's great that you are, but wouldn't you feel better knowing that someone was there to catch you if you fell?”

She wanted to believe that. But she couldn't. “I never had anyone I could trust that much in my life.”

“Of course you had. At least your family.”

Especially not her family. She shook her head as old memories crept in and heat stole into her face. “Just drop it.”

“Tessa?” His face turned serious, his gaze searching hers.

“I don't want to talk about it.” She hadn't, not once, to anyone.

He reached out to cup her hand that lay on the cover between them, but she pulled away.

“You can tell me anything.”

Not this. It was too embarrassing. “It's not a big deal.” Her father had told her so. She felt like such a wuss and a big sissy for still feeling hurt over it after all these years. “It's nothing.” She had to let it go.

“The hell it is if it puts that look in your eyes.” His voice came hard and clipped.

Oh, hell, she couldn't tell him, now that he'd made such a huge issue of it. He would think she was nuts for letting something so small bother her. He would probably laugh.

“You wouldn't understand.”

“Don't cut me down like that. However colossal an ass I've been in the past, I do care about you. I always have, from the beginning, you have to believe that.”

She felt something loosen inside her as she nodded.

“It happened a million years ago.” She took a deep breath. “I was twelve.” She fell silent. She couldn't do it.

A few seconds passed.

“Oh, man.” His face darkened, and she could see in his eyes a hesitation that maybe he didn't want to hear this story after all. But then he reached out and took her hand again, and this time she didn't pull away.

“My father lost his job and couldn't get another.
My mother tried to get some work, but she was always a stay-at-home mom, so people said she didn't have any skills. We were so poor, Mike.” Their meals consisted of macaroni and cheese, spaghetti with sauce that had never seen meat, hotdogs wrapped in stale bread.

Then things got even worse when her father's unemployment ran out. “He drank a lot, especially in the evenings. Then even more when Greg died.”

“Operation Desert Storm.” He squeezed her hand, and she felt touched that he remembered.

She nodded. “Then my father's old boss came over one night and talked to my dad about going into business together. He'd gotten laid off, too, finally, but he'd gotten severance because he'd been a manager. It was enough to start something, and he knew my father was a work horse.”

God, even her mother had come out of her stupor of grief for a while. She'd smiled for the first time in months.

“They started a landscaping business. Mr. Soniak bought the equipment, my father provided the facilities. Mr. Soniak lived in a condo in Pittsburgh. We lived on a farmette with a bunch of outbuildings. He knew the fancy neighborhoods where people paid big bucks for making sure their lawns looked as spotless as their neighbors'.”

The business had taken off almost immediately. She could hold up her head in school again; kids no longer teased her about never bringing lunch and wearing clothes that were too small.

“The equipment was housed over at our place, so Mr. Soniak spent a lot of time there. He was single, probably bored at home, my mother used to say. I loved watching him and my father work on the machines.

“Sometimes he got back from his list of houses before my father did and he waited for him in the barn, oiling up the mower, filling the tank for the next day. My mother would send out a cold beer or a snack.”

She closed her eyes, not wanting to go on. Why the hell had she started? Would Mike, like her father, tell her she'd been imagining things?