Page 13 of D-Day

“Did…I know this sounds off the wall…but did you know him?”

“What?” Helen asked, startled. “Why would you say that?”

“Something in the way you two interacted that felt…I don’t know…familiar.”

To protect D-Day’s, her brother’s and that other man’s cover, she had to lie to her friend. “No. I don’t know him.” In many ways that was true. D-Day hadn’t committed to her during their brief affair, and it wasn’t because he just wanted sex from her. She was sure about that. There was this inner push and pull with him, a tortured soul that had retreated from any kind of solace, as if…as if he wasn’t somehow worthy of any type of affection or compliment. It only made her ache to find out what lay in the core of him as a man, as a lover, and as a decent and humble human being. This was the foundation of why D-Day scared her so much. She didn’t want to deal with troublesome emotions, and he evoked a slew of them. They often got in the way when she was working, because even though the medical field was cut and dried, people just weren’t, but she loved the experiences she got as a result of being an international nurse not tied to one hospital and one boring schedule.

“Oh, okay…well, even though he’s a gunrunner and a killer, allarmed and dangerous, he’s pretty nicely put together,” she said. “I can imagine what he looks like under all that grunge.”

As much as Helen adored Monique, her friend didn’t know the meaning of subtlety. She was bold and brazen, and usually said what was on her mind. “Seriously. I doubt that he takes anyone’s welfare—or pleasure for that matter—to heart. He’s a ruthless, dirty, scruffy thug.” Which wasn’t at all true. His blond hair was silky and gently mussed by the wind and his big, capable hands, his face chiseled, beautiful, that shadow of a beard across an elegant jaw, and then there were those incredibly blue eyes. Monique could guess what D-Day looked like under his clothes, but she would be off the mark. No man looked like him—six feet of power and grace, warm, smooth skinwrapped around converging layers of ironbound muscle, sinew, and bone. Andrew Nolan wasarmed and dangerousin more ways than met the eye.

“Yeah, but a gorgeous one.”

Helen couldn’t help it, knowing that everything Monique said about D-Day was true. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and no amount of grime or scruff changed that one bit. His longer hair and just-there beard were as sexy as hell. But she couldn’t openly agree with Monique.

They parted ways and Helen went to her small room, one of several that had been provided to the medical team that included a bed, dresser, and bathroom. It was bare bones, but it was all Helen needed. She’d made do with much, much less in the wilds of the countries she’d visited. Air conditioning, hot water, and privacy were huge luxuries. With that in mind, she stripped down and showered off all that sweat and grime. She dealt with her longer hair, letting it grow so that she could bind it off her face and neck when in the field.

In her robe, she was drying her hair when there was a knock on the door. She walked over and opened it. Greg was standing outside. His face lit up when he saw her, his eyes caressing her face. All of it just made her feel uncomfortable. But she had to work with him, and he had recommended her for this job…so, it might have been self-serving, but she was grateful to him. She didn’t want to burn any bridges and believed that they could remain friends.

“Hey,” he said in his deep voice, his greeting was, as always, spoken in a low, husky tone that made her all too aware that the flame he held for her wasn’t anywhere near going out. “We’re going out for dinner. Want to tag along?”

“I’m really tired—” She was also drained from seeing D-Day. He was right there, but so far away from her, he might as wellhave been on the moon. She couldn’t seem to get him out of her head, that look on his face. Shock, dismay, then confusion.

“After today, it’ll be good for you to be around decent people, Helen,” he said, dismissing her attempt to refuse. He was so hopeful, even now giving her signals to let her know he was more than willing to resume their relationship—despite the numerous times she’d gently turned him down. The man didn’t give up easily, and even though she’d tried to let him know by her words and actions that she no longer had any romantic feelings for him, he continued to try to persuade her in little, subtle ways. Keeping things cordial but warm and friendly between them was a tightrope that was becoming more difficult for her to walk.

She still hesitated, because when it was just the two of them, without anyone else around, he got much too intimate with her. “Other people are going? Monique?”

His mouth tightened a bit, and he nodded.

“All right. Give me ten minutes to get dressed.” He nodded, again, reluctantly moving back away from her door. She closed the door and sighed, not quite sure what to do about Greg. At forty-one, divorced, not only was Greg much older than her, but she just wasn’t attracted to him anymore, and he seemed clueless about it. After her interaction with D-Day, she couldn’t imagine going back to their tame affair.

This is why she terminated their relationship. Where D-Day pushed her beyond her comfort zone into new and scary thoughts and emotions, Greg just didn’t evoke the same kind of feelings. She was wondering how much of her life had been superficial, and it wasn’t until she’d met D-Day that she was beginning to understand what being real meant. Except for D-Day, she had never let a guy get away from her without giving up at least some of his secrets. More often than not, she got more than they ever meant to reveal.

But D-Day was incredibly self-contained. So self-contained, there wasn’t room for her, except in his bed and two people couldn’t make a life out of sex, not even the kind of sex they had. In all the time they’d spent together, there had been only one where he’d opened up. In the barn the last time she’d seen him. The experience had been shattering. He’d hurt so badly that night, and she’d hurt for him. But for all that they shared, all that she wanted to tell him, get him to reveal, he had retreated.

Today he had been cool, smart, collected, and quick on his feet. In his line of work, that was a requirement and damned impressive. He always seemed to find a way to catch her off guard. But all that had happened between them was borrowed time. He was crossing a line she didn’t know existed, and she had lost him even before she realized it, way before she was ready.

D-Day got off the helicopter,keeping low, his body as tense as steel. The rain spilled straight down, soft enough to soak everything as he walked across the tarmac to the TOC’s door. Buck and Zorro were close behind them. All the dialogue in the chopper had been nothing but swear words and an explanation for Zorro, the air turning blue.

“What the hell happened out there?” Bailee demanded the moment they entered the command center, a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of Manila and an isolated place where they could launch and land their sleek little bird chopper. She stood so fast that her chair rolled back. Everyone in the room had heard the disaster happen over the comms. No one spoke, but ruination hung in the air. “I don’t know,” D-Day said, still reeling from his encounter, his jaw clenching like a vise. “She came out of nowhere.” Anger coiled in him. Helen, hethought. Here in this den of snakes. Every protective instinct in him rose up like a wave of energy, crackling across every nerve ending in his body. A half dozen feelings ricocheted inside him, but he couldn’t focus. A bad week just got worse.

“She…she…whois this person?” Her shoulders lifted and her hands tightened into fists.How the hell do you meet someone you know in the freaking jungle?”

“She knows me, too,” Buck said with a wince. “She’s my sister, Helen Buckard.” He let that sink in. It didn’t get any better.

Bailee let out an incredulous laugh. “Your sister? Oh my God. How is that possible?”

“She’s an international nurse with Doctors for the World. I reckon she had an assignment in the Philippines.”

“You guess? Why don’t you know where she is?”

“Look, darlin’ my sister is a grown woman, and she has her own life,” Buck said, anger simmering in his voice. “This isn’t her fault.”

“Maybe not, but it’s our problem now.” She rubbed at her temple. “And how does she know D-Day?”

“He’s been a frequent visitor to my family’s ranch in Wyoming. He’s practically one of us. He met her there.” D-Day winced inside at Buck’s words. They were no longer true.

“What are the odds?” Zorro murmured, his gaze jerking to D-Day, and he didn’t like the speculation on his face. D-Day stared him down.

---