Freefall

“No. And I doubt you will see him again anyway.” Shane had waited forever to make this reappearance in her life, so why had he picked today? Weary with the day, weary with Shane’s intrusion and weary with life in general, Cassidy dug for a sense of normalcy that would take away the dull throb in her head. “So, who told you I could use a friendly face?”

Jackson relaxed and ran his hand through thick blond hair. “Word travels fast. Heard you had a little excitement over here and thought I’d come over and check on you.” His brown eyes grew dark with concern. “You okay?”

“Other than thinking I was back in Baghdad for a few minutes, I’m fine.” I’d be even better if the past hadn’t picked today to intrude.

“Yeah, I’d imagine that kind of noise would trigger a flashback or two.” He aimed a finger at her forehead. “How did you get the bruise?” Anger flashed in his eyes, and he straightened. “It wasn’t that guy, was it?”

“What? No, not at all.” Shane had never laid a finger on her, nor had she ever feared he would. If anything, he was overly protective. Cassidy pressed her fingertips to a spot above her right eyebrow and winced at the sting. “Desk diving.” She grabbed her laptop and shoved it into the case as she glanced at her desk for her ID card. “At least it wasn’t a car bomb. More like mechanical ineptitude.”

“So they know what caused it?”

Cassidy nodded, relieved to talk about anything but Shane, even if it was an exploding vehicle.

Jackson relaxed and leaned back in her chair. “A little too much power in those modifications, huh?”

“Boys and their toys.” She shrugged and glanced at her computer, wanting nothing more than to mark this day down as a distant memory. “Hey, see if you see my ID card anywhere.”

Easing the chair back, Jackson eyed the floor beneath her desk. “You lost it?”

“Actually, I’m not sure. I had just pulled it out of the card reader on my computer when the explosion happened. I must have launched it somewhere.”

Jackson laughed, but it was different from his usual, easy laugh.

Cassidy looked at him, but he was doubled over, searching under her desk. With a shake of her head, she wrote the cold tingle in her spine off to postexplosion adrenaline and Shane-induced emotions. “Not funny, my friend. You try thinking you’re under attack on home soil sometime.”

“Been there, done that, liking my cushy contractor job over at Brigade now, thank you very much. So far, nothing’s blown up outside my building.”

“You’re lucky I like you.” She scanned the baseboards behind her desk.

“Got it.”

Cassidy looked up to find Jackson holding her ID card between two fingers. “It was under your desk.”

“That’s a relief. It would be an international incident if I lost that thing.”

“Ah, it’s not that bad. It’d just raise the domestic terror threat level to red for a couple of hours.” Jackson winked as he straightened and ran his hand down his polo over his chest. “Want to grab some dinner? You can tell me all about your visions of chaos, and I can tell you all about how Lauren dumped me last night.”

This time Cassidy winced. “Ouch. She did?”

He cocked his arm and swung like he was taking a major league pitch. “Strike three. I’m out. Reese takes the walk of defeat back to the dugout.”

“Yeah, okay.” She ushered him out of the room and flipped off the light, then pulled the door shut behind her. “If I know you, there are six more in the bullpen waiting to pitch to you.”

“You one of ’em?”

Her laugh was hollow as she tested the door lock. What made him bring that up today? Of all people, Jackson knew best that she would never be involved in another relationship, not without some sort of lifetime guarantee. Something that said if it broke, she could get her wasted years back. “You know better. I’ll let you take me to dinner. Then I’m going home to start my weekend. My nice, quiet weekend.”

* * *

Shane slipped the back door closed and stopped. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the late-evening light outside faded. He stared across the kitchen, listening for sounds of movement in the house.

He’d left her office determined to make her see the danger she faced. If she refused to believe the truth and something happened to her that he could have prevented...

It hadn’t taken much effort to find out where she lived, but his intention to wait in the driveway and try to talk to her was thwarted when he drew near the house and saw the man he’d chased earlier slip into the side door of the garage. His only thought had been to protect Cassy, so he’d parked down the street and edged along the side of the travel trailer sitting on the lawn to the left of the garage, noting it still bore the bumper sticker from when Cassy and he had taken it on their first trip to the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

A rustling above his head stilled his movements. For an instant, he thought about charging up the stairs to play hero, but he had no idea of the layout of the house. If the intruder heard him coming and hid, he wouldn’t have a prayer of getting out of this without a confrontation he’d have to explain to the police. Shane couldn’t see that one ending well. They’d forget all about the arsonist he’d followed and want to know what he was doing uninvited inside his ex-wife’s house. Know what the penalty is in North Carolina for stalking, son?

There had to be a way to draw the guy out, get eyes on him. Shane let his gaze travel the room again as a soft thud drifted through the ceiling. And there was his answer, lying on the counter in front of the toaster oven. A garage door opener.

Shane crept along the granite counter, snagged the opener and slid into the short hallway between the kitchen and what appeared to be a dining room. Pressing his back against the wall, he pushed the button and shifted into a defensive position as the garage door’s movements rumbled through the walls.

A curse and a flurry of noise echoed from above, then silence engulfed the house.

Trying to discern slight sounds, Shane held his breath. No footsteps thudded toward him. Surely he wasn’t headed for the front door. Maybe...

Adrenaline jerked at his muscles. Was the guy lying in wait for Cassy? Shane narrowed his eyes and hit the button again, listening as the door ground into place, ready to defend if necessary. If it was Cassy they wanted, it was Cassy they’d think they were getting.

Easing around the corner, Shane opened what he judged to be the garage door and slammed it, then slipped back to his hiding place.

A man stood in front of him, silhouetted by the dining-room windows. Muted light glinted off the blade of a knife.

Shane judged the other man’s bulk in an instant. His adversary had two inches and twenty pounds on him. That, and there was the blade of the knife that made height and weight irrelevant.

Well, nobody had ever said going against a drug smuggler would be easy. Ducking his head, Shane lowered his shoulder and charged.

TWO

“You have got to be kidding me.” Cassidy dropped her head against the back of her SUV’s seat and stared through the Trailblazer’s windshield into thick, gooey darkness. It was like Murphy and his laws followed her around, blowing up cars in the parking lot, inviting her ex-husband into her office, knocking her power out in a storm just as her garage door closed.

There wasn’t a tornado warning she didn’t know about, was there? Because it sure wouldn’t surprise her if she blinked and found herself in a storm-tossed Kansas cornfield.

Maybe she’d forget the idea of her bed and sleep right here. The way things were going, her cell would ring and the soldier on twenty-four-hour staff duty would call her back into work anyway.

Thunder cracked a shudder through her. It was doubtful she’d ever get over the adrenaline rush that came with booming thunderstorms, especially if cars insisted on blowing up outside her office.

The army had been easier when she was younger. Multiple trips to the “Sandbox” of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan had sapped her of any form of resilience. That and, apparently, thirty-four was the age when bounce-back time doubled. Her own bed and a sound sleep couldn’t come soon enough. Maybe when she woke up, it would be easier to pretend this entire day had been a nightmare.

Even her metal flashlight felt heavier than usual as she grabbed it from under the seat and opened the car door. It wouldn’t do to survive a war zone only to break her neck tripping over a rake in her own garage.

Reaching across the console, she snatched the paper bag that held her supper. Halfway to their cars, Jackson had received a phone call that forced him to cancel, so Cassidy stopped and picked up a thick, juicy burger at the corner grill near the house. Her stomach urged her to drop to the concrete and inhale the thing right there, but eating in the dark made her nervous, especially after the time she’d spent with all sorts of creepy-crawly critters on the other side of the world. Scorpions and camel spiders would probably always haunt her nightmares. The way they skittered... She shuddered again and gingerly set one foot on the ground, half expecting something to wriggle up her shin.

She inched her way to the kitchen door. Once she made it safely inside with her neck intact, Cassidy killed the flashlight and flipped the mudroom light switch.

Of course. Nothing. A quick glance across the kitchen through the back windows told her she wasn’t the only one who’d be suffering part of this summer night without air-conditioning. She groaned. And it was raining. There wouldn’t be any open windows to relieve the heat. Wonderful.

Cassidy tipped her neck to the side and stretched tight muscles. She still reveled in the spicy smells and warm comfort of her own house after her deployments overseas. Central air and hot showers and overhead lighting were things she’d never take for granted again. Well, she wouldn’t once the power came back on anyway.

A strange sixth sense sent little spider footsteps down her spine and raised cold chills in their wake. Something wasn’t quite right. Must be the darkness. More light. She needed more light. There were candles on the coat closet shelf. She flipped on her flashlight and yanked open the closet door.

Eyes gleamed back at her.

As she stepped back, the paper bag holding her hamburger slipped through her fingers and thudded to the floor. A scream refused to work its way from her lungs to her throat. It stuck somewhere in the middle and blocked her ability to breathe. Before her body could react, a shadowed figure pushed her against the door, body heavy against hers as a hand pressed against her mouth. The flashlight clattered against the linoleum and rolled away.

“Don’t scream.” The hiss grated against her ears.

She struggled and fought the weight that pressed against her. No way was she going out like this, not after all she’d been through. If it was her time to die, she’d make sure her attacker bore marks he wore to his grave. Her body went limp, then she raised her knee, grateful for heavy combat boots and praying to connect with a foot when she forced her heel toward the floor. Her boot made contact with a satisfying thud, and her attacker’s grip loosened and fell away. Cassidy crouched and prepared to launch.

“Cassy, don’t charge. I’m not going to hurt you.” The words came from the menacing shadow directly in front of her.

Cassidy stumbled, and the coiled spring inside of her unwound with a snap as words penetrated her adrenaline-driven thoughts. For the second time in one day, that never-forgotten voice invaded her conscious. Her fists clinched tight. Shane didn’t deserve any less of a beating than a random, violent invader. A flash of lightning burned the shape of him into her eyes as she renewed her attack position. “You’ve got three seconds to get out of my house, Shane. I have no idea what makes you think this is okay.”

“I wasn’t sure it was you coming in, so I hid the first place I could find.” His measured voice moved to the right. “Listen to me. Somebody’s been in—”

“You have got to be kidding me. Isn’t it enough you showed up spouting crazy stories at my job on the most chaotic day ever? Get out.” There was no way she’d listen to anything he had to say. She spotted the beam of her flashlight shining at a crazy angle onto the refrigerator. Every good soldier knew a Maglite had enough heft to be an effective weapon, and it might feel good to swing it if she had to. She snatched it and held it high, prepared to strike. “I will use this on you, and I will call the cops and I will tell them it was self-defense.”

“This is important.”

“I’ve got no reason to listen to you. Know why? Because the years haven’t been long enough to make me forgive you. You’re not my husband. You’re not part of my life. You don’t even exist, as far as I’m concerned. We’re not rehashing this.” The beam of the flashlight arced higher as Cassidy cocked her swinging arm. “Now go.” Her heart beat so hard it pulsed in her eyeballs. It could be fear, anger or...

She shook her head. No. It was fear or anger. Nothing more.

“I know who I used to be. I did a lot of things wrong, but you’ve got to—”

Cassidy’s head tilted back, her jaw jutting between them as if it could block the emotions that struggled to surface. “Don’t try to explain yourself.”

“Fine.” Shane sounded like each breath was an effort, and she could just make out the hulk of his dark shape between her and the kitchen. “I heard a rumor on my last mission, and when I went to check it out—”

“Spare me. Special Forces changed you, and I don’t care about your last mission or any of your other missions. It was bad enough to never know when you were leaving or where you were, but not knowing who you were after you got back? Watching you stumble home after drinking all night with your buddies?” She jerked the flashlight. “Hearing you—”

Rapid pounding blasted against the front door.

Cassidy’s heart leaped out of her chest and she fought to inhale against the memories and the present, then a familiar voice called her name. It sliced through her fear and robbed her muscles of their readiness.

Her gaze shifted from Shane to the kitchen, and she hissed, “You’re out the door. Now. Discussion closed. I can’t do this with you.”

“Who’s that?”

Shane’s jealousy-laden voice made Cassidy straighten her shoulders. “Jackson. Maybe you saw him at my office? He’s a contractor who worked on the forward operating base during my last deployment. He’s trustworthy.” She backed two steps across the kitchen. “And he’ll tear the door down if he thinks something’s happened to me.” She tipped the flashlight beam in Shane’s direction, not one bit guilty about omitting the fact that Jackson was a good friend and nothing more. Shane could suffer with his assumptions...if he suffered at all.

Her heart missed a step when the light hit his face. It was a reaction her emotions weren’t ready for in spite of the fact he’d stood before her earlier. The intervening years had dulled his image in her mind, and the flash of his features in the light shot long-forgotten memories across her heart.

The pounding on the door grew more insistent, and she glanced over her shoulder, torn between the man she used to love and her would-be protector.

“You and I are both in danger. Until I know more, nobody can know I’m here. Please, Cassy.” His voice pleaded as his shadowed form slipped into the closet.

Cassidy stared at the door. In danger? The only danger she could see in her house right now was him. Her fingers gripped the doorknob as Jackson called for her again. She wavered, then decided Jackson would either burst in or call for reinforcements if she didn’t respond soon. She jogged toward the living room, unable to determine if anything about this bizarre evening warranted a phone call to the police.

* * *

Shane pressed his ear to the closet door and fought the urge to grip his biceps. It throbbed after the exertion of subduing Cassidy. He’d forgotten how strong she was. Worse, he’d forgotten how she felt in his arms. It had taken only a moment of contact to drive the images through his memory like they’d just been together yesterday.

He shook his head. Now was the worst time for a long drive through their distant past. If he fell into old habits with her, there’d be no way to ensure she had a future. And considering he’d fended off a knife-wielding stranger in her house tonight, both of their futures might be shorter than either of them could imagine.

Only muffled, indistinguishable voices reached his ears, so he gave up eavesdropping and dropped his forehead against the door. His eyes narrowed. Who was this “trustworthy” Jackson who felt so protective of Cassy? And, for that matter, why did he care? They’d both barricaded that door a long time ago. He didn’t love her. Wouldn’t love her. Even though touching her just now had flooded his senses with vivid reminders of touching her in the past.

He pressed his fists into the door and shook his head. When he’d married her fourteen years ago, he’d promised to protect her. Yeah, the relationship ended in front of a judge four years later, but he wasn’t the kind of man to let a promise of that magnitude die. Whether Cassy knew it or not, she needed protecting now more than ever. He should go out there right now...

His fingers unclenched. If he blew his hiding place out of some misplaced jealousy, there might not be another shot at discovering who was out to hurt her. It was just that, for all he knew, this Jackson joker had his hands all over what was going down in Cassy’s unit.

Yeah, right. That would be a hundred-yard stretch. Jackson was probably some smarmy little horn-rimmed glasses accountant type with a bald spot and allergies that would—

Footsteps, heavy ones, thumped toward him. It took a second, but he recognized the cadence of Cassy’s stride in her boots. Surely she wasn’t mad enough to throw open the door and reveal him after he’d asked her not to. He squeezed his eyes shut, body tense, and prayed. Shane had seen the face of the man who blew up that car and broke into Cassy’s house. Now she wasn’t the only one in danger. He was in this with both feet and sinking fast.

The steps passed, and a door creaked open. There was silence, then the same door closed again.

“Got it.” Cassy’s voice floated into the closet and sent a familiar tremor down his spine. “Good thing I left it in my truck or I might have dropped it when...when I tripped coming into the house.” Her footsteps slowed as she neared the closet.

Shane pressed his forehead tighter to the door, his hands flat-palming the cool wood. She was so close he could almost feel her.

She picked up speed and passed.

He’d always known he’d see her again someday. The army was too small, their jobs too specialized, to avoid certain confrontation. But of all the ways he’d imagined a reunion, this wasn’t one of them. Sure, he’d known all along it wouldn’t be roses and kittens, but he never figured he’d be hiding in her coat closet bleeding from a stab wound in his arm.

And he’d never imagined he’d feel anything other than coldness for the woman who’d thrown their marriage to the pavement and ground it under her boot heel. Shane leaned his head against the door. God, help me. I can’t fall in love with her again.

* * *

Cassidy dropped to the sofa and bent to untie her bootlaces, doing her best to act normal while her mind searched for topics that had nothing to do with explosions or Shane. He could stay in her closet all night if he wanted, but she hoped he’d slipped out when she ran to answer the door. The more distance between them, the better.

“Are you okay?” Jackson settled in beside her. “You’re all jumpy.”

His closeness in the semidarkness was disconcerting. Something in his manner was off, like he was trying too hard to comfort her, his movements and facial expressions a too-bright caricature of his usual self. “You try thinking you’re being fire-bombed on your home turf.” And then come home to find a man you never wanted to see again hiding in your closet. That’ll light up your nerve endings. “What did you need my laptop for?”

“Mine’s fried. I left it plugged in at the office, thinking I’d go back and finish some reports after dinner, but the storm had other plans. That was why I had to ditch on dinner. Lightning hit our building. Good thing all of the other computers were hooked to surge protectors. It looks like I’m the lucky one who got zapped.”

“That’s good.” She went to work on the knot in her other boot, the pressure of the day deafening her so she heard only half of Jackson’s story. Typically, his brotherly presence was comforting. Tonight, though, every word out of his mouth sliced cuts in her raw nerves.

“That’s good? What is? That my computer got fried?” His voice wagged with amusement that didn’t match the events of the day.

“No. That the others are okay.” Cassidy jerked her shoelace. The knot grew tighter instead of working loose.

A soft scrape and a thud drifted in from the kitchen, and Jackson looked up, tensed as if to spring. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? It was nothing.” Let it be the sound of Shane leaving her life forever. Nobody would hear her complain about that.

Jackson snatched the flashlight from the coffee table and stood. “Was the power off when you got home?”

“Yes, but—”

“And did you get a cat since I was last here?” He eased toward the door to the kitchen, voice lowered.

“No.” Cassidy rocketed off of the couch. Jackson couldn’t go in there and find Shane sneaking his way out the door. There was no telling what he’d think. “I’m sure it’s—”

“Somebody’s in your house,” he whispered as he edged toward the kitchen.

“Jackson!” Her voice held all of the authority she normally reserved for wayward privates. “There is nobody in my house.” Why was she protecting Shane? As soon as she figured out why he was camping out in her closet, she’d probably call the police just to prove her point. If she did that, though, it would bring the authorities—and her chain of command when they got wind of it—into her personal life. The sigh that escaped was a fitting punctuation mark at the end of this day. It wasn’t worth the hassle.

Jackson hesitated, bobbing the beam of the flashlight in her direction, his expression dark in the reflected beam from the light. “Are you sure?”

“I came in that way. And nobody could get from anywhere else in the house to the kitchen without walking right past us.” Cassidy perched on the edge of the couch and hoped her voice was convincing as she reached for her bootlace.

Annoyed indecision flickered on Jackson’s face in the dim light. “What are you playing at, Matthews?”

Since when did he refer to her by her last name? “The only thing I’m ‘playing at’ is too much adrenaline and not enough food in my system, okay?”

With a last glance toward the kitchen, he walked over to the couch, settled the flashlight onto the table, and sat down next to her again. His eyes stayed on her, probing. “And you’re one hundred percent sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” She jerked the laces free and yanked her boot off her foot, fighting the sudden urge to throw it at her friend. This day—and the man in her kitchen—had gone to her head.

“Uh-huh. You act like everything’s perfectly normal.”

Well, let’s see. A toasted Honda. Her ex hiding in her house. Everyone in her life going cuckoo at once. Yeah, normal was all over her house. “Too much went down in too many places today.”

“Other than things going boom?”

“It’s like my whole life went boom.” Cassidy pressed her big toes together. It was too hard to breathe while split in two, her thoughts in one room and her body in another.

He eyed her like he had something to say, then pressed his lips together and stood. As he shouldered her bag, he said, “Thanks for digging this out of your car for me. I can bring it to you Monday morning.” Jackson pulled the door open and paused with one foot inside and one on the concrete of the front porch. “You sure you don’t want me to check out what went bump in your kitchen?”