Page 68 of Lethal Pursuit

A tingling of excitement rushed through her. The end goal of working for one of those agencies had been something she’ddreamed of for years. She wanted to help eradicate any evil that would harm innocents. With a clean bill of health, a psychiatrist’s signature of approval and a letter of reference from the Secretary of Defense, her dream seemed more attainable than ever. “Well then, thank you. I might take you up on that.”

“I hope you do. And if there’s ever anything I can do for you, you’d better not hesitate to call me.” He pulled a card out of his shirt pocket. “This is my personal cell phone number. Call me anytime.”

She took it with a murmur of thanks. But the suspicion rolling around in her gut wouldn’t go away. “You’re not doing this because you feel like you owe me something, are you?”

“No, even though I do owe you since you saved my life out there at least a few times. I’m doing it because you’re an airman, and we American fighting men and women stick together.”

It made her think of Ace and Jackson. Of how loyal and steadfast friends they both were to her. She smiled. “Yeah, we do.” And that made her incredibly proud.

The door opened and a nurse appeared, carrying a tray of blood-taking supplies. Maya withheld a groan. She’d been poked and prodded enough. All she wanted to do now was sleep.

“One more thing,” Haversham said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper so the nurse wouldn’t overhear. “There’s another number on that card you might be interested in. And he also asked me to give you this.” He pulled a black iPod out of his pocket and handed it to her. “You’re supposed to listen to track number three, apparently.” Blinking, she took it from him and he patted her shoulder. “See you later. Get some rest.” With that, he swiveled himself around and wheeled the chair out the door one of his security staff held open for him.

“I need you to keep this on,” the nurse said, placing the oxygen mask back over her nose and mouth and securing the elastic band behind her head. “How’s your pain level?”

“Good.” Compared to how she’d felt before, it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Her voice was muffled beneath the mask.

“I’ll just take a quick blood sample and let you get some more sleep.” She reached up to adjust something on the IV pole.

Maya paid minimal attention to the nurse at her bedside andflipped the card over in her fingers. Beneath Doug’s cell number were handwritten numbers, along with the wordsSSgt. J. Thatcher.

Jackson’s cell number. Her heart squeezed. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Haversham had managed to dig that up too. Or had Jackson given it to him along with the iPod? She was going to listen to that special track the moment she was alone.

Laying the card on her chest while the nurse checked her vitals, a secret smile spread across her face. She didn’t know when she’d be able to see him next, but at least she’d be able to talk to him. She couldn’t wait to call him, just to hear his voice.

TWENTY-THREE

JACKSON LEANED HIShip against the kitchen counter as he talked on his cell phone, overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding he couldn’t seem to shake. Throughout their separation, he’d never felt farther away from Maya than he did at that moment. He struggled to stay positive. “So, you’re sleeping better these days without your cast on?”

“It felt weird at first without it, but yeah, and my ribs are pretty much fine now,” she answered. He heard her smother a yawn before continuing. “Glad you got the green light today from the docs.”

“Me too.” She was lonely. He could hear it in her voice, even if she’d never admit to it. He’d have given anything to be beside her right then. “I’m not sorry to be finished with all my rehab.” His abs were killing him from all the core-strengthening exercises they had him doing. He needed to be in peak condition before he went back to Bagram to finish his tour, and he was getting close.

“I’ll bet.” She yawned again, doing her best to smother it so he wouldn’t hear.

He hid his disappointment, knowing their conversation was at an end. “You sound wiped. I’ll let you go so you can get to sleep.” It was only eight on the West Coast, but he knew she hadn’t been sleeping well the past few weeks.

“Sorry. I’m not much of a conversationalist tonight, am I?”

“It’s okay, I’ll call you tomorrow night. Sweet dreams, baby,” Jackson murmured.

“Thanks. You too. Good night.”

He waited for her to say something else, something more meaningful, but she was already gone. Disconnecting, he stood staring out the kitchen window into the backyard illuminated by the streetlamps in the alley. God, he missed her. It was a physical acheinside him, growing every day he went without seeing her, not being able to touch her. Talking on the phone wasn’t good enough anymore. When the hell was he going to get the chance to be with her?

Seven weeks, he thought with a miserable shake of his head. A whole seven weeks since he’d last seen her. His last memory of her was seeing those fear-filled eyes staring at him from across the emergency ward in Kandahar. He’d wanted so badly to erase that look on her face, stroke the furrows of concern from her forehead with his fingers before they wheeled him into the O.R. Through all the psych sessions and all the other things he was forced to recall these past two months, that frightened look on her face was the memory that stuck in his head most often.

He sensed movement behind him and knew without looking it was his sister, Angela, who’d been kind enough to put him up for this two-week leave the Air Force was giving him before he had to rejoin his unit at Bagram. He’d only arrived yesterday.

“Was that Maya?” she asked softly, her tone cautious.

“Yeah.”

“How’s she doing?”

He shrugged. “Same.” They’d talked almost every day since she’d called him on his cell at the hospital in Germany, and yet more than ever he was convinced she was pulling away from him. He didn’t understand what was happening. Whenever he tried to broach the subject of a relationship or talk about how she was handling the aftereffects of their ordeal in Afghanistan, she either closed up or steered the conversation in a superficial direction. He was worried as hell about her and it drove him fucking nuts that she was all alone. Now that his leave had started, maybe he should hop a flight in the morning and go find out in person what the deal was.

Angela came up to rest her chin on his shoulder. “Isn’t there anyone to stay with her?”

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