Terror Stash (41 page)

“Hello, Montana,” Caden said, from right next to her.

She turned her head. He really was sitting right next to her, his back against the table. He was wearing a simple white tee-shirt that stretched over the big muscles, and black jeans. No shoes, like most of the people on the beach. He gave her a small smile. His eyes, the dark eyes that gave away nothing, were watching her.

She pushed out a soundless gasp.

“I’ve been hearing all day that this would be the party of the year. I thought I’d check it out,” he said.

Montana struggled to hide the feelings cascading through her. For the last two weeks, while she had been skewered and filleted by every agency with a stake in the rounding up of the stash of terrorists in Margaret River, while her possessions were packed up and her life in Australia brought to a screeching halt, Caden had been missing. She didn’t know his phone number or even if he had a phone and she had been stuck in Perth finalizing details, so she couldn’t search in any of the places she might have looked if she had been a free agent.

She’d been so pressured by the demands of moving countries and completely flipping her life around that she had barely made it to Marg’s in time for the party, and with no spare time to look for him.

So she had spent the days feeling Caden’s absence almost like a physical, low-grade pain that gnawed at her whenever she thought of him...which was far more often than she wanted to admit to
anyone
, including herself.

But now, to see him leaning back with his arms casually crossed, conscience-free and unfettered...her blood boiled. She got to her feet and turned to face him. “Sixteen days, Caden! Where the hell have you been? Do you realize what I’ve been going through, even with Nelson paring down the red tape?”

He didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch as she confronted him. He looked cool and unruffled. There was even a touch of amusement in his expression.

“You asshole!” she railed at him. “You left me to the wolves! Just because you know how to grease your way past the machinery...did it ever occur to you even once that I might like to do that, too?”

He lifted a brow. “I don’t need a partner, remember?”

Her heart creaked. It
hurt
. “You gutless wonder,” she breathed. “You took a dive and left me to the wolves.”

He shrugged. “You were enough to keep everyone very distracted. I guess I should thank you.”

Her jaw sagged. She stared at him, barely able to believe what he had just said. She let the truth sink in. He really had walked out on her in the hospital. It hadn’t been a temper tantrum. He had been cutting the very tenuous ties between them.

Abruptly, Montana grew aware of the audience they were drawing, here on the beach. There were half a dozen surfers milling behind the table, watching the drama occurring in their midst. Steve was watching this all go down from his comfortable position front and center at the picnic table, showing absolutely no sign of discomfort or any indication that he was about to push off and give them any privacy. He was drinking his beer and watching with deep interest.

Montana suddenly didn’t care about their very public place. Her fury was thick, pulsing and palpable. It writhed in her. “I was a good distraction, was I?” she asked Caden, pouring all her anger and derision into her tone. “You, on the other hand, are a complete waste of oxygen. It’s a good thing you know what you’re doing in the sack, Rawn, because there’s little else you’re useful for.”

She heard someone hiss as if in pain, behind her. Good. She wanted Caden
wounded
and a public denouncement would make it that much satisfying.

He smiled a little. “It’s a good thing one of us did, huh?” He got to his feet. “Have a nice life, Dela Vega.” He turned away.

Montana had no idea where it came from but the fury rose up in her, iron hard and smoking. She curled her hand into a fist and grabbed the back of Caden’s shoulder with her other hand, to halt and turn him so she could sight his jaw before she socked it. She intended to hurt him, despite knowing very well that he could kill her one-handed if he wanted to. A sheila taking on the big freakin’ guy no one else would so much as look at cross-eyed? Mad, barmy, stupid.

Her fist never got close to his jaw. It smacked into his raised, open hand and his fingers curled around her fist tight, while his other arm snaked around her waist, and pulled her up tight against him, holding her still…all before she could even react in shock.

She stared into his black eyes, her heart threatening to escape her chest with each beat, and remembered the warmth she had seen in them only a couple of weeks ago. Abruptly, all the fight drained from her. Worse, her eyes filled with hard, stinging tears. “You son of a bitch,” she said tiredly. “Why did you spend so much time cracking me open if you were just going to by-pass me like another piece of road kill?” A single tear dropped, betraying her.

His eyes closed and he pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry, Montana. I had to do it. I had to know.” He gave a gusty sigh.

Her heart gave a queer launch. “Know what?”

“That it was more than just an absence of fear.” His big hand tangled in her hair and drew her head back so he could look at her. “I wanted to know that you cared. Even a little.”

Her breath hitched in her chest. “You deliberately...?” she whispered.

“I had to. With your strength, with your independence, I could go a decade and not break in. Not using the normal ways.” He shook his head. “For what it’s worth, the last two weeks have been hell on wheels.” He let her go and stepped back. He dropped his arms, the big, powerful arms. “So if you’ll forgive me this one time, I promise I will never, ever, for the rest of my life, voluntarily hurt you again.”

She took a step closer. “You promise?”

“Yes.”

She considered that for a moment. “Good.” Without telegraphing it, she slammed the ball of her hand up under Caden’s chin, knocking him flat onto the sand at her feet. He landed heavily and everyone watching audibly winced.

Quickly, she straddled his hips, spread his arms and held them down with her own. He blinked, clearing his head.

“I guess I have to promise you the same thing, huh?” she asked.

“I guess so,” he said, a smile forming. Then it faded abruptly. “I missed you.”

Montana kissed him hungrily and when she straightened up, she realized everyone around them was cheering, whistling and cat-calling.

Caden started to laugh.

“What?” she demanded.

“Here.” Steve’s hand thrust in front of her face. “Get up before I have to arrest you both for public indecency.”

Montana took his hand and Steve hoisted her onto her feet with a surprising amount of speed and strength of his own. Caden climbed to his feet, still smiling.

“Are you going to explain what is so funny?” Montana asked him.

Steve grinned, looking at Caden.

“
What
?” Montana demanded.

“Your notoriety is going to go ballistic after tonight,” Caden told her.

“Because I kissed you?”

Steve’s grin broadened. “And because you tossed the big freaking guy flat on his back and lived to tell the tale.”

* * * * *

Caden held out a bottle of wine. “I found another Plantagenet,” he said. “Where’s your glass?”

Montana let him pour her a glassful, then he touched the bottle to the rim of her glass and raised the bottle toward Steve. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

She looked at her watch, surprised. It was past midnight. “So it is!”

Steve drained his can and crumpled it in his fist. “I haven’t put up a tree and I don’t think I’ve got a single present, but it’s already been the best bloody Christmas I’ve had. Ever.”

“You’ll remember this one forever,” Caden told him.

Steve nodded. “Yup.”

Montana sipped her glass, as Caden took a mouthful straight from the bottle.

“We don’t have anywhere to hang out for Christmas day,” Caden said. “Why don’t you invite us over to your place?”

Steve snorted. “I’m a shitty cook.”

“I’m not,” Caden replied. “I saw a chicken in your freezer when I was in your kitchen last time. We could make some sort of Christmas dinner out of that. Montana?”

“As long as you’re fine with orphans for Christmas, Steve, I would love to hang out on the swing on your porch.”

“It’s a bloody verandah,” Steve told her. “Yank,” he added.

She grinned. “But it’s a great swing.”

“Flattery will get you an invite. Sure.” He stretched. “My mum died in February this year, so I guess I’m an orphan, too.” He carefully didn’t look at anyone as he said it.

Montana caught Caden’s glance and could almost read his thoughts. Steve was a lonely man. She was suddenly glad they were spending Christmas with him.

Then Caden brought out his other hand, the one not holding the wine bottle. There was a Christmas gift bag hanging from it.

“For me?” Montana asked, as he swung it toward her.

He rested the bag on the table in front of her. “Yes, and don’t get maudlin on me and complain that you didn’t get me anything.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did. It just didn’t come wrapped in Christmas paper.” He pointed to the bag. “Open it.”

She dug into the bag, and pulled out... “Vinnie-too!” The bear was wearing a traditional Christmas cap, but more importantly, the buttons on his waistcoat had been neatly repaired. “You fixed it,” she said softly.

“Kinda what you did with me,” Caden said.

She couldn’t help the soft smile she gave him. “You should have been up on that table with me at the start of the night.”

He shook his head. “Not my kind of thing.”

“You deserve it.”

“Laurels ain’t his color,” Steve said softly. “If too many people figure out than under that tough shell he’s really all soft and squishy and he’s actually on the side of the good guys, he’s going to lose all his street cred and he won’t be able to do what he does anymore. So standing up on tables and accepting accolades is out. Scaring surfers and women because he’s a big freaking dude is his
raison d'être.”

Montana stared at Steve. “That was almost…poetic.”

Steve shrugged. “Ignore the poetry. Focus in on what I’m saying. It’s only what I was saying in the hospital, just gentler.”

Montana smiled at him. “You’ve been working on that for a while, haven’t you?”

“Since I fucked it up in the hospital and muscles, there, walked out on you.” Steve grimaced. “Not one of my better days,” he added.

“I dunno,” Caden said softly. “It worked out well for me. I needed an excuse to walk out on her, to see what she was really feeling. You gave me the perfect scenario. I should be thanking you.” He glanced around and smiled.
“By the way, there’s someone here who wants to say hello, but he’s too bashful.”

Montana looked around. “Where? Who?”

Caden swiveled and put his hand to his mouth. “Patrick! Get over here!”

Montana could feel her eyes bug. “
Patrick
? Not the guy...?”

“Who’s Patrick?” Steve asked.

“The guy on the boat,” Montana told him. “The one Caden and I pulled out after we all came out of the caves that morning.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “The one in love with Arrabella?
That
Patrick?”

“The very one.” Caden grinned. “You’ll like this. Brace yourself,” he told Montana.

“What?” Alarmed pricked her. She looked around and spotted a huge man coming towards them, with bright blue eyes dancing in the firelight and a trim, sandy goatee.

“Patrick?” she breathed.

“Well, blow me down, he wasn’t lying!” Patrick said. “Hey, Arrabella! Come here!” He beckoned behind him and turned back to face them. “Caden said it was you they was throwing this shindig for but I didn’t believe it.”

A pixie-sized woman stepped up to Patrick’s side. Patrick was a good few inches over six feet and she barely came up to his shoulder. She was delicate in a pink and golden way, with eyes as bright as Patrick’s. “You must be Montana,” she said, holding out her hand. “I wanted to thank you for trying to save Patrick’s life the other night. He told me about it all, you see.” Her voice was as delicate and childish as her appearance.

Montana glanced at Caden and Steve. Steve was staring at Patrick, his expression absolutely neutral, but his jaw was flexing suspiciously.

Caden was enjoying himself. She could see silent ripples of laughter shaking his shoulders as he watched the pair with a grave face.

Montana looked back at Arrabella.
This
was the wonderful Arrabella? “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said stiffly.

Patrick gave a chuckle. “I’ve had a few drinks with Caden and we sorted out a few details, but I wanted to have a quick word with you before I finalized everything.”

“Finalized what?”

“Caden tells me you’re partial to this part of the world but that you’re probably not going to be able to come back in the near future, because of one thing or another, most of it official bullshit. Would that be correct?”

Montana felt her eyebrows lift. “Yes, that would be one way to put it.”

“Well, I’ve discovered that Caden’s good at logistics—moving things from place to place—but my specialty is legal loopholes. So between us, we’re going to see what we can figure out.”

“Oh, hey, no, please don’t do anything to upset the arrangements—” she begun quickly.

Patrick held up his hand. “You really
don’t
know who I am, do you?”

She shrugged and held up her hands helplessly. “You’re Patrick?”

He laughed a bit. “Patrick O’Neil. I suppose, if you’ve been hanging out with these characters, there was no way our paths could cross. I’m the managing partner of O’Neil, Dempsey, Mulligan and Brown—about twenty-five of the top legal minds in this country. There isn’t a legal specialty we don’t cover, including international law.”

She felt dazed. “I see….” she said slowly, not really pulling it together at all.