Chapter Five
Friday, July 17
6:00 p.m.
Alta, WY
Quinn and Mara’s new house was a mile as the crow flies from Jesse’s. Usually he walked across the fields, or sometimes he saddled a horse and rode over. But one look at the dark clouds spreading out over the mountaintops in the distance told him to take the truck. They were in for one of Wyoming’s infamous storms. The air already snapped with electricity.
He glanced back at his house as he pulled open the driver’s side door. His parents had come over from their place on the other side of the ranch to stay with Connor, but he felt better knowing the storm would keep the kid inside and out of trouble while he was gone.
Hopefully.
He hopped up into the cab. The truck was old and rattled with each bump as he turned it around in the dirt patch in front of the barn and pointed it toward the road. By car, the trip was more like six miles since the road skirted along the edge of Warrick land, and he took the time to let his mind wander to his impending meeting with Gabe and Quinn.
Lanie was probably right and they only wanted to go over plans for the upcoming training exercise. It was the first time the recruits would be away from the facility and no doubt they wanted to make sure everyone had his medical stamp of approval. And the recruits all did. At this point in their training, they were all a bit dinged up, but the only real medical issue had happened weeks ago when one recruit broke his leg after falling off the ropes course. He’d been treated and sent home with an invitation to come back once he healed. Other than that, the rest of them were in the best shape of their lives.
But if this little meet-and-greet was just to discuss the recruits’ medical histories, why the hell wouldn’t Gabe just come out and say it right there in the barn?
Lightning flashed over the mountains, momentarily lighting up his rearview mirror. He spotted a lone figure jogging along the road behind him and slowed, intending to offer the runner a lift.
Dammit. It wasn’t one of the recruits. It was Lanie.
Why’d he have to glance back just then? Now he couldn’t not stop. He guided the truck over to the shoulder and waited.
She slowed as she approached, her feet crunching on the hard-packed dirt, ponytail swinging behind her. Sweat glistened on her brown skin and her chest heaved with each indrawn breath.
He tried to keep his eyes on her face, and his mind on anything other than the way her tank top stretched tight across her breasts. “Not goin’ to outrun the storm.”
She arched an eyebrow. She did it often, and sometimes he wondered if she was even aware of the quirk.
“Was that your way of offering a lift?” she asked. “Or are you challenging me, cowboy? Because I can’t back down from a challenge.”
He ground his teeth. Never took much for her to get under his skin and that, he knew, she did on purpose. “Get in the truck, Lanie.”
She winced. “With the mood you’re in, I think I’d rather take my chances with the lightning. I’ll probably walk away less singed.”
“Fine.” He put the truck in gear. Lightning gashed open the sky behind them and a gentle rain splattered his windshield. It wouldn’t be gentle for long. Not with the way that cloud was rumbling. He wanted to drive away, leave her to try to race the storm back to the training center, but he couldn’t bring himself to take his foot off the brake.
“Lanie,” he said through his teeth. “Get in the truck.” He had to unlock his jaw to add, “Please.”
She wiped at the sweat and rain dripping into her eyes. “Oh. Well, since you asked so nicely.” Sarcasm was heavy in her tone, but she circled around the hood to the passenger side.
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathed out a soft sigh of relief, and forced himself to loosen his grip on the steering wheel. Like a burr under the saddle, she was a nagging annoyance, pricking at him with her mere presence. Why couldn’t she have stayed in El Paso working for the Texas Rangers? Why did she have to go and throw in with HORNET? It had been so much easier to ignore her when he’d only seen her every ten years or so. Now that she was practically his next-door neighbor, he was lucky to get through a day without catching at least a glimpse of her.
The door’s hinges squawked as it opened and the old leather bench seat creaked under her weight as she settled in. He silently thanked God the drive was only a few minutes long. As it was, it was going to feel like forever. He turned up the radio. Hopefully some classic country would curtail any attempts at conversation.
“How’s Connor?” Lanie asked over Garth Brooks singing about his friends in low places.
So much for hoping for silence. “I don’t know.”
She turned the radio down and stared over at him. “You didn’t talk to him?”
“I tried. He locked himself in his room.”
She scowled. “Did you try to talk…or lecture?”
“I was only tryin’ to tell him his behavior was unacceptable and—”
“Oh, Jesse.” She sighed. “Do you even remember what it was like being a teenager?”
Not really. In truth, he hadn’t gotten to be one for long. He’d spent most of his teenage years helping out his increasingly disabled dad on the ranch, and had joined the Army before the ink was dry on his high school diploma. Then, while in basic training, he’d gotten a letter from his girlfriend with a sonogram attached. Before he was even nineteen, he’d been a husband and a father. He’d had to grow up damn fast.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The fact is, he picked a fight with Schumacher—”
“Connor said Schumacher started it.”
He glanced at her. “I don’t give a rat’s ass who started it. Connor needs to learn to control himself. He needs to learn when to hold his temper and walk away or else—”
He’ll become me.
He stopped short of saying it. Didn’t dare re-open those healed over wounds.
“Or else what?” Lanie asked, a soft, all-too-knowing look in her eyes. Another reason she was dangerous. She was longtime friends with his family, knew all the ugly details of his life. She knew his temper, always boiling right under the surface, threatening to break free if he didn’t keep a tight lid on it. Knew about the spiral of depression and drink that ended his Delta Force career and helped seal the fate of his failing marriage to Connor’s mom. Knew about the two other failed marriages in his past.
And, goddamn her, she never condemned him for any of it.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and focused on the road in the increasing darkness. “Kid just needs to learn. Nothin’ more to say about it.”
He turned onto the lane that led to Quinn’s house, where a handful of cottages huddled around the T-intersection. Back when this land used to be part of the Warrick family ranch, the cottages had been lodging for ranch hands that had families since they were close to the main road and kids could catch the school bus. Now they served as guesthouses when the guys were at the training facility—except for the first house in the row with the bright yellow shutters. Lanie had bought that one off Quinn and Mara when she decided to join HORNET. She’d since repainted it in ridiculously cheery colors and added on a room. Jesse didn’t have a clue what that extra room was for since he’d never asked and he sure as fuck had never been inside, but she’d managed to turn the ramshackle place into a cozy, welcoming home.
He stopped the truck at the side of the road by her mailbox, but she didn’t seem inclined to leave anytime soon. The air in the cab grew thick, started getting uncomfortably warm. He was aware of her scent, sweat and rain and something sweet like berries. It wrapped around him, more seductive than any bank-busting bottle of perfume. He didn’t want to want her, but she was such an appealing combination of hard and soft, tough but gentle. She could take care of herself in a fight and wanted to be considered just another one of the guys, but he couldn’t see her like that. Lanie Delcambre was distinctly woman, and his body was very aware of that fact whenever she was around.
“I have a meeting to get to,” he said finally.
She nodded and climbed out. But before shutting the door, she met his gaze. “Connor is not you. Talk to him, cowboy.”
Was he that transparent? “How about you stop meddlin’ in things you have no business meddlin’ in?”
She grinned. “Meddlin’”—she stressed the word, mimicking his accent— “is what I do best. Ask Mara.”
Jesse sat there for several long seconds and watched her dash through the rain to the house.
Dayam. That smile.
As always, he felt a little like she’d socked him in the gut with it. All she had to do was flash some teeth and crinkle her dark eyes and all the oxygen rushed out of his lungs. Every-freakin’-time. It pissed him right the hell off.
He slammed the truck into drive and powered up the dirt road to Quinn’s as lightning chased behind him. The weather tonight suited his mood. Dark and stormy with the potential for massive destruction.
Lanie was dangerous. She challenged the control he’d spent years perfecting, and he was so damn terrified one of these times she’d snap it like a twig. And if she did, they’d have a good time together, sure, but he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t go back to the man he’d been when he left the Army. All that anger. All that darkness. He didn’t want to be that again. Couldn’t go back. Wouldn’t.
So, control. He’d just have to choke up on the reins and make sure he didn’t lose it.
He parked behind Quinn’s SUV and stared through the windshield at the house. He couldn’t go in there as wound up as he was. He had to calm his sorry ass down.
He’d taken a few yoga classes when he’d left the Army—though he’d deny it with his last breath if anyone asked him about it. He’d been hoping to find peace. He’d felt like a pussy the whole time—but he had learned a few breathing techniques that did help him chill out when his temper sneaked up on him. He channeled his inner yogi now and breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. Concentrated on the simple act of sucking in oxygen and releasing it, and studied the house in front of him like he was going to be quizzed on it later.
Quinn and Mara’s house was two stories, arts-and-crafts style, with a wraparound porch. Rustic, welcoming, and new enough that the elements hadn’t worn the shine off it. As they were building it, he’d privately thought it was too big, but now that his cousin was pregnant again, he got why they’d opted for so much space. The rate they were going, they’d have their own army in a matter of years.
And good for them. They’d both had less-than-stellar upbringings. If they found peace by filling their home with children, more power to them. And God help them when their kids became teenagers.
Then again, he couldn’t see Quinn and Mara’s daughter acting out like his son was now. Bianca was a doll, and as pretty as one. The thought of seeing the little girl brightened his mood some and finally his blood pressure began to ease down.
Soft yellow lights glowed invitingly behind the windows, fighting off the encroaching darkness. Mara had chosen Santa-sleigh-red Adirondack chairs and strings of tiny white lights for the porch. Quinn—the man who bled desert beige and olive drab—hated the color and the fairy lights, but he’d indulged her like he always did.
As Jesse hopped out of the truck and dashed through the rain, he noticed two large figures in those chairs, watching the storm roll in.
Gabe’s cane was propped next to his chair and his legs stretched out in front of him. Quinn was as relaxed as Jesse had ever seen him, feet resting on the bottom rail of the porch fencing. Of course he still wore his combat boots. You could take the SEALs away from the man, but you’d never beat it out of him. He lifted his beer in a hello salute before taking a swig. He wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Alcohol didn’t mix well with his migraine meds, but Jesse decided to let it pass without comment this time. He didn’t have to watch the guy like a hawk anymore since Quinn now took his medical issues seriously, but the habit turned out to be a hard one to break.
Gabe wasn’t drinking, but his medical problems were far newer than Quinn’s. Jesse didn’t know the specifics since he’d only treated Gabe in the first few hours after he was shot, but there had been a helluva lot of damage. The bullet had pinged around inside him like a pinball. He was damn lucky to be alive, but he was likely subsisting on a cocktail of pain meds and would be for years to come.
“Quinn. Gabe.” He nodded to them, then motioned to the storm with a jerk of his chin. “Bet ya don’t see storms like this in Costa Rica.”
“We had a few,” Gabe said, and if Jesse wasn’t mistaken there was a note of something—was that wistfulness?—in his tone.
Well, of course he’d be wistful. He and his wife Audrey hadn’t spent any time at their Costa Rican home during his recovery and they both probably missed the place. It was just strange hearing something other than command in the big guy’s voice.
Jesse looked toward the screen door as a burst of female laughter drifted out of it. “Audrey’s here?”
“Yup,” Gabe said and picked up his bottle of water from the table between them. “We’re looking to build a house.”
Jesse swung around. “Here?”
The two men shared a look, then Gabe grabbed his cane and pushed to his feet. He was moving a little slower than he had been earlier in the day. Not bad, though. He’d come a long way.
“Let’s take this into Quinn’s office,” Gabe suggested.
Whatever this was.
Jesse waited for them both to go inside before following. Toys scattered the living room, and they had to navigate around the dolls and stuffed animals to get to the office door. Mara and Audrey were at the kitchen island, conversing over…were those tubs of Ben and Jerry’s? Probably. That had been Mara’s main craving during her last pregnancy.
And the sight of the ice cream reminded him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He detoured to the kitchen, drawn by the scent of something cooking. Bianca was in her high chair beside her mother, smashing what looked to be peas between her chubby fingers.
“Ladies.” He bent to kiss the baby’s head—yep, she definitely smelled like peas and had some stuck in her dark hair—then smiled at the two women. “You’ll ruin your appetites.”
“Doubt it.” Mara snorted and rubbed her belly. “This boy has his daddy’s appetite.” She looked round and sweet and rosy with happiness. He was so glad for her in that instant, he couldn’t help but give her a hug. He covered for it—the guys would never let him live it down if they knew he was such a sap—by pretending it was a diversion to steal the spoon out of her hand. He dug into the ice cream for himself.
“Hey!” She socked him in the stomach hard enough that the bite went down his throat like a rock. He coughed, eyes watering, and handed her the spoon back.
Behind him, Quinn laughed. “You should know better than to come between her and ice cream. Especially when she’s pregnant.”
He returned his attention to Mara. “You feelin’ all right?”
She stared after her fiancé, who had continued with Gabe into the office off the living room. “I feel great,” she said, but there was an undercurrent of tension in her words.
“You sure?”
“Mm-hm.”
Didn’t sound that way. “Everything still okay between you and Quinn?”
“Oh God, yes. I love Travis and I know he loves me. It’s not that. It’s…” She sucked in a breath and glanced at Audrey.
“We’re worried,” Audrey blurted. She nodded toward the office. “About them. We know it’s just a training mission, but Gabe wasn’t supposed to go and now he’s being stubborn and insisting and…” Her eyes shimmered with tears and she blinked them back, shook her head. “I almost lost him last time. In more ways than you know. I-I can’t… I don’t know if I’m strong enough to go through it again.”
Jesse’s stomach twisted into a hard, painful knot. He’d suspected Gabe had struggled mentally as well as physically during his recovery, but to hear it confirmed…
Damn, it hurt.
Mara reached for his hand. “You’ll take care of our guys while you’re out there, won’t you, Jesse?”
His gut response was to assure the women that the team wasn’t walking into a real-life situation this week. But one look into Mara’s dark eyes told him she needed more assurance. He squeezed her hand. “Always. I’ll make sure they all stay in one piece.”
“Thank you,” Audrey said softly.
“I knew we could count on you,” Mara added.
Yeah. They could count on him, all right.
Problem was, he didn’t know if he could count on himself anymore. His ability to deal with serious medical issues in intense situations had always been the one thing he could truly rely on no matter what his mess of a love life looked like or the newest drama brewing in his oversized family back home. Medicine had been his calling for as long as he could remember…but now he just kept replaying all the things that went wrong when Gabe was shot, all the things that could have gone wrong, and all the ways Gabe could have—honestly, should have—died. Blood loss. Shock. Infection. To name a few. And Jesse hadn’t been able to do any-damn-thing but sit back and watch. What was the sense in having all this medical knowledge if he couldn’t do anything to help when his teammates needed him?
He realized he was standing there staring blankly at the two women and forced a smile. “I’d better go,” he said around the vice gripping his throat and tilted his head toward the office.
It was the last place he wanted to go at the moment. He didn’t want to talk strategy. What he wanted—no, needed—was a trip to the lake. It was the one place on earth he could clear his head and think straight. If he could get a few hours alone there, maybe he’d be able to figure out what to do about Connor and work through his sudden medical performance anxiety.
In the office, Gabe sat in the big executive chair while Quinn perched on the edge of the desk, arms crossed over his chest.
“The girls are worried about us,” Quinn said without preamble.
Jesse tilted his head in acknowledgment as he shut the door. “Can you blame them?”
“No,” Gabe said after a beat of silence. “And that’s why we asked you here.”
“Okay. You wanted to talk, so spit it out.”
Gabe picked up a pen and twisted it through his fingers a couple times. “After this week, I won’t be going on anymore missions. Training or otherwise.”
Jesse had started forward, but stopped like a glass wall had slammed down in front of him. “Wait.” He glanced between the two of them. “What?”
Gabe sighed, set the pen down, and pushed himself out of the chair. He left his cane where it was propped against the wall and limped around the desk. “I’m not at full strength and might never be again, no matter how hard I work. It took me a while…” He trailed off, cleared his throat, and started again. “I can no longer be the kind of commander that rides to the front lines with his men. I have to think of my wife and the family we want to start. I can’t give her that if I’m constantly running off to play war. And I won’t”—he stressed the word with so much conviction it was more of an oath than a simple statement—“put her through the last year and a half again.”
Jesse got it. He’d drawn that same line in the sand in a last ditch effort to save his marriage to Connor’s mother. And look how that had turned out. But he hoped for Audrey’s sake, Gabe was better at being a civilian than he’d been. “So you’re leaving HORNET?”
“Not leaving. I’m still CO and Quinn is still my executive officer, but neither of us can be in the field anymore. Our roles from here on out have to be behind the scenes, which means we need a field commander who can follow orders, but who also has the ability to make split-second decisions under pressure.”
He saw where this was going, and a sense of dread settled over him. “You don’t want—”
“Yeah, we do,” Quinn said. “If anyone can keep the team in line, it’s you.”
Holy hell.
Didn’t they realize he was barely holding his shit together? His son hated him, the only woman he wanted was the one he wasn’t going to touch with a ten-foot pole, and he didn’t even know if he was still capable of serving as the team’s medic. With his recent case of the yips, he doubted he’d be able to bandage a paper cut without breaking out into a cold sweat.
And they wanted him to take command?
Shit.
“Guys…” His voice wobbled. Not with sentiment, though he was touched that they trusted him enough to offer the position. Nope, that wobble was all about the firestorm of panic raging inside him. He cleared his throat, tried again. “I’m okay with my current position. Ask someone else to—”
“There is no one else,” Gabe said definitively.
“Think about it,” Quinn added. “What are our other options? Jean-Luc? Ian? Garcia?”
Jean-Luc Cavalier, the team’s linguist, drank way too much, didn’t much care for rules, and was doing a damn fine job of fucking his way through the female population. He was arguably the most reckless man on the team, which put a big red X on him for any position of command. Ian Reinhardt, explosives expert, was as volatile as the bombs he defused and had a penchant for using “enhanced interrogation” techniques. And Jace Garcia? That pilot was shady as fuck. He could fly any aircraft in any situation, but you never quite knew whose side he was on.
None of them were fit for command. They were barely fit for the roles they filled now.
The look on his face must have given away his thoughts because Quinn nodded. “You see our problem here. Harvard’s too young, too inexperienced—though he’s been putting himself through training with the recruits and he’s coming along. He’ll make a good leader someday. And while Seth’s managing his PTSD, we don’t want to put any extra pressure on him.”
“What about Marcus? He’s a joker, but he knows where to draw the line, when to get serious.”
“He’s a possibility if you really don’t want the position,” Gabe conceded. “But he was never military and doesn’t have the same combat experience as you do.”
Were the walls closing in on him? Because it sure as hell felt the room was getting smaller.
“Listen,” Quinn added after a beat. “You take the reins during this training op. After, if you still don’t think you’re the right guy for the job, we’ll tap someone else.”
One training mission. He could get through that and then politely decline their offer. He could do this. Wasn’t like they’d be facing any real-world baddies this time out.
He inhaled sharply, let the breath out slowly, and gave a nod. “You can count on me.”
“We know it.” Quinn stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “Men don’t come any steadier than you, Sawbones.”
Uh-huh. Steady as a rocking boat. Which explained why he was on the verge of a panic attack. His chest constricted and needed to get gone before the panic really took hold.
“Yeah, uh…” He cleared his throat to ease the tightness. “So. I have some thinkin’ to do now. I’ll need to take a rain check on dinner. Will you let Mara know?”
Quinn nodded. “I’m sure she’d put together a plate if you—”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll scrape up somethin’ at home.” He backed to the door, but stopped with his hand halfway to the knob as he remembered the fight from earlier. “Schumacher’s a problem. He picked a fight with Connor today.”
“Jesus.” Quinn heaved out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was starting to get a headache. “I’m aware. He knows he’s on shaky ground. If he fucks up or mouths off just once during the training exercise, he’s done.”
Okay, that settled one worry. He hesitated, unsure how to approach his next question. “How would you feel if…Connor joined us?”
Gabe’s brows climbed toward his hairline. “Thought you didn’t want him involved in this part of your life.”
Exhausted, Jesse scrubbed his face with both hands, dragged his fingers through his hair, and locked them behind his head. “I don’t, but…” He dropped his arms to his sides. Shrugged. “I can’t leave him here. He’ll try to go back to Vegas if I do and his mom won’t take him. She’s washed her hands of him. Christ knows where he’d end up.”
Gabe and Quinn shared a look that lasted for several seconds. The two had been friends for a long time—brothers, really, in every sense of the word but blood—and sometimes it seemed they could read each other’s minds.
Finally, Quinn turned back to Jesse. “It’s your decision whether you want to bring him or not. This is your show, buddy.”
Annnd the panic threatened to strangle him again.
His show.
Right.