Chapter Seventeen

Russell nearly vaulted off the plane, and would have if the yahoo landing the thing hadn’t taxied for what felt like forever. He’d made it back in a day, not two. Grinning, he slung his duffel over his shoulder and shook hands with the two SEALs who had given him a hop to Montana. Nice guys.

His phone ringing made him grin, but it wasn’t Susan calling. Did she have his number? It was Eagle. “Yeah, man, what’s up?”

“Hey, Ace. How’s it going? Heard you ditched Wolf and the team to hitch a ride with a team of Rangers?”

Those guys gossiped more than a bunch of women. Wolf was coming up, staying a while. He’d even convinced Dare to come and meet Susan. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to share her, but he was going to show her off so that the next time he had to go on a mission, she knew and he knew who she belonged to. This had been hell. The phone call hadn’t been any better, not until she’d chewed his ass out. Grinning, he juggled the phone, the bag, and managed to glance at his watch, all without slowing his fast lope off the runway.

“Yeah, well, I was in a hurry. Don’t want to leave my woman alone too long.” His woman, damn that sounded good.

“Ah, yeah, well… Fuck, this sucks, man, and I’m only doing this because, shit, I love you, man. I’d want the same thing, all right?”

That stopped him dead in his tracks. A chill filled him, and there it was. He’d known—he’d known damn good and well—a woman like Susan wouldn’t be sitting on her ass for five, almost six weeks. What had she said? Five weeks and two days. Yeah, no phone calls, no letters, nothing.

“Give it to me.”

“Ah, man. This might not be anything.”

Did it always start with that shit? “Say it, Eagle. Give it to me straight.”

“We saw her enter a hotel room with two guys, twenty-three hundred yesterday.”

Right after he’d got off the phone with her? I can’t wait that long. You’ve got me all hot and bothered.

“Thanks, man. See you in a few.”

“Listen, Russell, Katya wanted me to say she didn’t—”

He hung up. What was the point? He’d been screwed before. Why would Susan be different?

Pacing, Lacey finally gave up and blew out the candles. It’d been too early to light them anyway. He’d said two days at ten p.m. last night. That would be ten p.m. tomorrow night. Not six-thirty.

Thank God they hadn’t been having phone sex when the agent had called. Smiling, she rubbed her face, careful not to mess up what little makeup she was wearing. She’d not slept well at the hotel. The agents had insisted she drive out then and there to meet two men at a Wal-Mart parking lot. It had been spooky and when the two guys had materialised next to her, she’d been proud she’d not screamed. But she had trembled, and nearly lost her lunch.

Then things had got weirder. The agents thought her cover was blown. She’d had to sit for hours poring over picture after picture of people to see if she could tag anyone. She’d not recognised anyone. Instead of that reassuring the agents, they had only frowned and reminded her that they were trying to protect her and asked her to look again.

She’d looked again. Until she’d fallen asleep at the desk at nearly four a.m. and someone had picked her up, put her to bed fully dressed, and then woken her at ten a.m. to start all over again. She’d barely got home today. And she still hadn’t figured anyone, but now she was a nervous wreck.

They’d given her a gun. Asked her about Russell, and she’d tried to hold in her temper about them knowing about him. Why get mad? They’d only have looked at her with cold eyes and reminded her, again, that they were trying to help her. And not to tell Russell anything, because they didn’t want some retired SEAL screwing with this.

This being that they needed her to testify again. This time against the guys who had attacked her. As if she knew what they looked like.

Her phone rang, jerking her out of her thoughts and making her clutch her throat. Seven-thirty. Geez, she’d been pacing for an hour?

“Hello?”

Loud music, something like a door, then silence.

“Susan.”

“Russell! You’re back! Oh! Are you on your way? I’ll—”

“I’m back. Not feeling well. I’ll call you later, sometime.”

Later, sometime? The click of Russell’s disconnect hit her ear and she stood there in her high heels, silky hose, thong panties and slip dress, not quite understanding what had just happened.

Russell was home.

He wasn’t feeling well.

He’d call her later.

Later, sometime.

The room blurred and it took her a few painful heartbeats to understand she was crying. Not even making a sound, letting tears fall down her face, she stood there while around her she felt her world tumble down.

Again.

Huh. Why buy the cow?

A half sob, broken and not like anything she’d ever made before, escaped her control, and then the dam that’d held so many emotions back broke.

Two hours later, Lacey wasn’t crying anymore. She was slightly drunk, but not crying. She was somehow proud of that.

Jumping down from her truck, she managed not to fall, but grabbed the door to steady herself, then headed to the one bar in this one-bar town. Ha, she could still make a joke, and wasn’t that pathetic?

The sounds of country music filtered across the parking lot. The full parking lot, she noticed. Man, this was where everyone was in this town, huh? Making it to the door without falling, she straightened her shoulders and jerked the door open. Smoke, too much perfume and cologne hit her along with loud yells and too-loud music. Too many people filled almost every available space, but she dodged a few very spirited dancers, got to the bar, and even managed to draw the bartender’s eye. A small guy with a tattoo on his arm that looked like an octopus, the bartender looked like he belonged in East LA, not Western Montana.

“Twelve pack, please, and a bottle of tequila.”

His pierced eyebrow disappeared into his shaggy black bangs. “Now, that’s an order. Can’t do the tequila, but I got a twelve in Amstel Light.”

“Great.” Setting a twenty on the bar, Lacey kept her eyes on him until he disappeared out a back door. Then, she eyed the wild crowd. They were wild, too. The dance floor was crowded with people gyrating in ways that should so be illegal because, yeah, most of them looked horrible. She was all for free spirits, but some things should not be done in public. A break in the ugly line dance, and through the crowd she saw Russell. Not sick. Not tired. Not home. Nope, nope, nope. Russell was with a beautiful blonde with the biggest set of hooters Lacey had ever seen. She was stuck to his side like glue.

Her stomach dropped out.

“Here you go, honey.”

Turning back to the man like he was a lifeline, she gave him the twenty and took the beer. Something was breaking. Something was literally breaking inside her. It was odd that she could think about it. Could analyse it, critique it, even. It was somehow different than when she’d woken and found her dad gone. This was raw, like a wound, like they’d cut her open and let her wake up to tell them how bad the pain was. This was like that, times about a thousand.

And then she made it worse. At the door, she turned back and looked. The blonde was beautiful—big breasts, a barely-there tank top, tight mini skirt and high heels. She looked like a prostitute, and the table full of men were whistling and cheering her on as she wiggled her ass for Russell, then sat down on him, shimmying over his hips before arching back and wrapping her arms around his neck. She looked like she was going to have sex with him, right there on the seat.

She left before she could see his face clearly.

Before the pain inside took over and left her falling apart all over the place.