While You Were Dead (8 page)

“Stop it.”

He was too close, even though the island still separated them. She didn’t dare look at him, but she could see his hands, long fingers firmly splayed on the tile. Her hands were shaking badly now, so she released the knife before she cut herself. It clattered much too loudly onto the tile between them.

Enough! Kat forced her eyes to meet his, daring him. “Stop what?” Her voice anything but calm, she glared at him. Too much anger, she chided herself. He’s distraught, he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you.

“Stop building walls.” He gestured to the countertop, at the row of glasses, the carton of juice, crackers and a platter of cheese large enough to feed an army.

“I–“

He touched her cheek with a single finger, sending a thrill of memory shimmering over her skin, and her voice died in her throat. “Just stop,” he whispered gently.

“I can’t.” The soft admission appalled her and she hastily pulled away from his too-welcome touch. “I’m, I–I don’t know what you mean.” She reached blindly for one of the glasses. It toppled, flooding the counter with orange juice and her heart with relief. She grabbed a towel and mopped at the spill until the counter gleamed once more. When she poured herself another glass, her hands were steady.

This time when she looked at him, he smiled. A sad, understanding smile that nearly undid her. “It’s okay, baby.”

The words tugged at her memories, her emotions and she shook her head, needing to clear it, to get control again, to stop reacting. It was time to go on the offensive and get back to the only subject that really mattered.. “I want to help. We have to find Lizzie.”

He simply nodded.

“Shouldn’t you be at the hospital? Or somewhere they can reach you?”

In answer he detached a cell phone from his belt and set it on the counter. The gesture was eerily familiar and she felt threatened all over again. She wanted to move, to run, but she didn’t dare walk out of the kitchen. He was still too close.

“What can we do? To help the police?”

“Nothing more tonight. They’re reviewing the hospital security footage. Tomorrow we’ll interview the rest of the employees.” The anguish slid back into his voice and she regretted her reminder.

“They’ll find her, Max.”

“I know.” He didn’t believe it.

“They will.” Her voice shook with determination. She would find her child. “There’s nothing we can do?”

“Not tonight.” He stared at her, his expression unreadable now, and the knot in her stomach tightened up again. Then he sighed, the sound beginning as a moan and ending in resignation. He yanked out a bar stool and flipped it, bracing his forearms on the high back as he straddled it. “There are things you need to hear. Things I need to say.” He held up a single finger when she began to protest. “You can stay in the kitchen if you want. But you will–“ He stopped and blew out his frustration as his hands fisted around the back of the chair. “I need to tell you. I need you to listen.” His voice, so tightly controlled, revealed a myriad of emotions, pain, anger that bordered on rage, that curious resignation and a yearning that reached into her soul.

Still she fought it. What did any of this have to do with Lizzie’s disappearance? “Couldn’t we talk about this tomorrow? After we’ve found Lizzie. There must be something we can do.”

“No.” Harsh and cold, he barked out the single syllable, then stopped and again reigned in his temper. “The top men in the city are looking for her. I’ve called in favors from all over the country. Everything that can be done is being done. It’s been too long already, Kat.”

That last wasn’t about Lizzie and she knew it. But why tonight, when she was tired to her very core? Because you dared Fate. You owe him this Kat, no matter how much it hurts. What else could she do? Kat gave a small nod.

“When I met you, I was at the campus recruiting.”

Kat bit back a frown and gave a noncommittal nod instead. She wouldn’t say anything, not a comment, not a question, just let him offer his explanation and then he would go. She separated a cracker from its companions, nudged it over the side of the plate and poked at it with her finger.

“Professor Lassiter’s son was in my unit–a buddy of mine, and he’d been injured on our last mission.”

She couldn’t help but steal a quick glance. Recruiting? Missions? It wasn’t like Max to lie, but this one sounded like a whopper. Something of her thoughts must have showed in her face because he gave a tight, wry smile. Even that little ghost of a smile could flip her insides. Kat picked up the cracker, examined it like a defendant and broke off one corner.

“Yeah, I know. Sounds strange.”

“Sounds like the FBI,” she murmured, then bit her tongue. No comments!

“Close,” he agreed, surprising her again. “Only it was Special Forces.”

Kat didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Okay,” she breathed finally, drawing the word out. “Special Forces missions with Professor Lassiter’s son.”

“Yeah.”

The cracker pulverized in her fingers but she kept her lips sealed.

“Greg, Professor Lassiter’s son, needed someone at home and I had some time coming.”

“Six months?” The sneer slipped out before she could stop it.

“Actually, yes.”

“So you were on a mission?” She didn’t dare look at him now.

“Yeah.” He sounded relieved.

Kat dropped the cracker crumbs on the plate and reached for another whole one. “That explains it then. Thanks for clearing that up.”

“I’m not finished.”

Fury smashed the second cracker before she controlled it. Then she straightened and faced him, ice cold. “Close enough. What else is there? You work for the government. You disappeared, you died, you came back.”

“Worked. I worked for the government. I don’t now.”

She gave a smile that had wilted many a defense attorney in court. “Ahhh.”

“Will you please listen?”

Her smiled widened. She thought it might break her face. “Sure, Max. I’m listening.”

“Our unit was highly specialized. Most of our missions didn’t last long. Usually we were in and out in a week, sometimes less.”

“Nice job.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Kat ignored that. “What does any of this have to do with – “ Too late she recognized the trap of her own words.

Max did too. “Us?” he supplied helpfully. “Only everything. Which you’ll understand if you’ll just listen.”

“I’m listening.” She picked up another cracker.

“I can’t tell you all the details–“

”Of course not.”

“But one of the reasons I was on leave for six months was because there was a leak in our unit.”

The room got even colder. Exactly how stupid did he think she was? “And it being the government and all, it took six months to contract a plumber?”

“A mole, Kat. One of our guys sold out.”

She didn’t have to look at him. The pain of that deep betrayal resonated in his voice. Someone close to him. A friend.

“It took us three months to find out who, but we still weren’t sure. My commander,” he clarified at her frown, “had a plan. I was closest to Bl--, the mole. I was to confront him with our knowledge, force his hand, and then take him down.”

“Kill you?” Horrified at the implications, she forgot her hurt, her anger, and reached for his hand.

He drew her hand into his and her soul into his own when he searched her eyes and gave a slight nod. “I didn’t have a choice, baby–he had to be stopped. And without a guarantee the plan would work, I had to let you go.”

She tried to free herself, but he hung on. Too close. But he wouldn’t let her go, and she couldn’t stop her question. “Did he–were you hurt?”

“No. The plan worked perfectly, except he went deep underground. It took me three years to find him.”

“And?”

His eyes never left hers and everything was there for her to read. More pain, bitterness, anger. Aching hurt. Terrible regret. For all that she saw in his eyes, his voice was deceptively soft. “And I took him out.” He didn’t let go of her hand as he stood and came around the island, into the kitchen, effectively eliminating her barrier. Kat backed into a cupboard door but Max didn’t stop until he was close enough she could feel the heat from his strong body. “I thought I’d come back to you. It’s all I thought about–all those months. Wanting you. Needing you.”

The pain was intense, still too raw, threatening to engulf her. She had to find a way to stop this, stop him, before he undid everything inside that held her together. Finding none, she lashed out instead. “You never did come back. You didn’t try to find me.” The bitter accusation was soft and out before she could stop it.

His voice was bitter too. “Yeah, I did. Just as soon as I could. I was just in time for your wedding.”

Something broke inside, screaming and wailing despair and futility and wasted years, but Kat continued to fight. He wouldn’t release her, made a mockery of her weak struggles, so she used the only retreat left to her. She closed her eyes. “You were dead,” she whispered, then gave a soft cry as his lips brushed her cheeks.

“I don’t blame you, baby. Never that. I wanted, want you to be happy. And I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I do need you to understand.” He brushed away a tear with the pad of his thumb, and then crushed her close when she uttered a choked cry and more spilled out right behind. “I’m sorry, Kat.” His breath fanned her ear. “So, so sorry.”

The dam broke. Kat flung her arms around him and held on tight as raging emotions boiled through the thin shield he’d been battering since his arrival. Pain. Anger. Deep, horrifying grief, for Max. . .for them. Fingers in her hair, he cradled her head against his chest, rested his cheek on the top of her head and let her cry.

Long minutes passed while she sobbed, at first unable to even begin bottling it back up. Max didn’t say a word, just held her tight until she sniffed, weak and utterly defeated.

“Damn you,” she whispered brokenly and felt him smile.

“Yeah. Damn me.”

“I worked so hard to get over this.” She didn’t move, still needing his solid warmth next to her, his arms so comfortingly steady around her.

“You know I can’t stand your walls between us. Never have.”

It was true. From that first afternoon, he’d attacked, tearing them down, time and again, until she’d finally stopped building them. And then he left. A fresh wave of tears started. “I can’t do this, Max.”

“There’s nothing you have to do, baby. Just be. Right now, right here, be with me. We both need it.”

“I can’t. There’s too much–”

“Shhh.” His hands cupped her face, tilting it up to his and she opened her eyes. “Shut off that incredible brain of yours, just for tonight. I’m not going to push you for anything, not going to talk about stuff that hurts any more. Just be here with me.”

He kissed her then, silencing another protest and Kat quietly but firmly shut the door on her common sense. It wasn’t even that hard, because oh, he was right. She needed this, needed him, as much as she needed air to live. Some things never changed.

Max knew the exact moment of her surrender and nearly sighed at the overwhelming relief he felt. Kat’s walls had never been easy to fell, and years of practice had made them thicker and stronger than ever. She was exhausted. He intended to take full advantage of her momentary weakness. She’d hate him tomorrow, but not as much as she’d hated him this morning. It’s the way it was with her–tear down a wall, she’d build another one, but the second one wouldn’t be as strong. Eventually, she’d run out of bricks.

He lifted her, sure she wasn’t aware they were moving as he continued to kiss her, savoring the sweet taste, smell and feel of her. His journey home had taken eleven years, not three, but he was on the doorstep at last.

##

Hours later, Kat could feel herself waking up and didn’t like it one bit. She was dreaming again, but it was so different, so deliciously different she couldn’t stand for it to end. Max, this Max, wasn’t out to conquer and destroy. This Max was more familiar, his hands gentle as they expertly soothed and stirred the embers banked deep inside. He kissed her, soft but so thoroughly she was desperate to breathe and overflowing with an insatiable need for more. Sweet urgency spiraled inside, curling tighter, swirling deeper, keeping time with the rhythm his hands and mouth played upon her.

She moaned, wanting only closer. . .more. This was Max, her Max. The closeness, the intimacy, this was what she’d struggled long years to find again.

“Kat?” A gentle stroke of fingers on her cheek and the concerned whisper in her ear intruded. Max hovered above her, up on one elbow, his fully clad body next to hers on her bed. She lifted her hand to stroke his warm, male, achingly-familiar cheek, to pull him close again, even as foggy confusion filtered into her awareness. He shouldn’t be dressed, he’d been making love to her. She wanted him to keep making love to her, to make her fly, to fill her with himself, to make her whole again.