Page 18 of Call Sign: Thunder
Regret replaced anger in his beautiful green eyes. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
She lied. "You didn't." She was hurt though. He wasn't interested in her that way. Hell, who could blame him? She was damaged goods.
She snuggled lower again, this time to avoid looking into his eyes. The next forty-five minutes couldn't come fast enough.
But Zach saw through her, putting his finger under her chin and lifting her to look into his eyes.
"It's the drugs talking, Allie. We'll get you medical attention and everything will be back to normal. You'll see."
She didn't know how to tell him nothing would ever be normal again. Still, she felt a yearning for something more.
"I don't think it's the drugs, Zach. It's more than that."
He took his time, searching for the right words. Allie held her breath, hoping he felt the connection she felt too.
"You aren't thinking right yet. You've been through so much. You feel grateful that I saved you is all. But, I was doing my job."
His words cut deep. She couldn't meet his eyes any longer. What had she been thinking? She'd embarrassed herself enough. He wasn't interested in her that way.
He had just been doing his job.
Chapter Eight
ZACH
Zachary walked out into the late afternoon sun. He'd spent over thirty-six hours in base headquarters being drilled by everyone from his commanding officer to the Marine Corp's version of internal affairs. He'd had to relive the events of the last mission so many times he was tempted to record the story so he could save time and just play it back for the next person who gave a shit.
He was exhausted, having only been allowed to take a few catnaps since their return. Worse yet, he was grimy having only been allowed to splash his face and brush his teeth.
He needed a shower and a bed—in that order.
But instead of heading to his small on-base apartment, he jumped in his jeep and took off for the opposite side of base. Because more than a shower or a bed, what he needed the most was to check in on Allie.
Allie Benson. Only daughter of Walter Benson – US Senator and powerful chairman of the arms appropriation committee.
What stupid luck it had been that he'd stumbled upon her that night. The odds were a million to one, and yet the universe had brought them together for a reason. When he thought about what would be happening to her right this minute if his helicopter hadn't been shot down, it made him sick to his stomach.
Those assholes would have made her pray for death.
The base was small. The hospital petite. It only took him a few minutes to arrive at the main reception desk. An elderly nurse with sun-dried leathery skin and sad eyes welcomed him.
"May I help you?"
"I'm here to see Allie Benson. She's a civilian brought in thirty-six hours ago."
The woman didn't even look at her computer. She picked up the phone and dialed two-digits. Her words were cryptic. "He's here."
She hung up and looked at Zach, her eyes less sad—more curious. "He'll be with you in just a moment."
"I think you misunderstood. I'm here to see a woman. Allie Benson."
"Yes. Allison Benson."
So her full name is Allison. He liked Allie better.
Zach had only waited a few short minutes when a middle-aged man in a three-piece suit came through the swinging double-doors labeled Critical Care. At first glance, Zach assumed he was Allie's doctor, but as he drew closer, Zach saw the worry lines around his eyes. He noticed the loosened necktie and wrinkled slacks. Anger radiated from him and Zach knew he was about to meet Allie's father.
"Captain Garrett, I presume?" He extended his right hand to greet Zach. The gesture was friendly enough, yet Zach knew he was being weighed and measured by the senator.
