Chapter Eighteen
Laura’s flight in the second helicopter to leave the airfield passed in a haze of relief and agony. Tony was safe, tucked against her, his strong little body a reassurance.
But Mark. She didn’t know what had happened to him. He’d been placed on the first helicopter. His friend, Mackenzie Mark had called him, had gone with him. As her helicopter landed at the San Matean naval hospital, she saw him carried off. She couldn’t tell if he’d regained consciousness or not. And once she and Tony were placed in an examining room in a section reserved for Americans, no one would even acknowledge Mark’s existence.
The doctor assessed Tony quickly, pronounced him healthy, and had a nurse take him out so he could treat Laura’s leg. She almost insisted he be allowed to stay, afraid to let him out of her sight, but he didn’t need to see a bullet hole.
In the confusion, as she waited for the doctor to get what he needed, an older man walked into the treatment room. He introduced himself as Jonathan Ethridge from the American Embassy. After questioning her about what had happened over the past few days, he told her that due to national security she must never mention Mark. She asked about him, desperate to know if he was alive, but Ethridge said goodbye and vanished.
Then her father was there, wearing a green sports coat over striped prison garb. He stayed with her as the doctor treated her wound. A bullet fragment had passed through her thigh without doing major damage. She’d lost some blood, but didn’t need a transfusion. Even so, the doctor insisted she spend one night, just in case. Her father told her he had to go and assured her that Esperanza, along with some of his men, were on their way take Tony home. An intelligence officer would stay at the house with them, but the coup had been put down.
Tony spent the next half hour sitting beside her on the examining table, recounting his adventure. “Tía Esperanza helped me with my letters. Tía Margarita said she would keep me safe until you could come for me.” He wriggled against her. “We played with cars. Can we play? Tía said she will give us the ones we used.”
“Of course.” Laura admitted that Margarita Ruiz had been good to Tony. As good as someone who let the snake of her husband take Tony in the first place.
“Mark is strong, isn’t he, Mom?” Tony was already back to calling her mom rather than the Spanish mami, something that told her just how frightened he’d been at the airfield.
“Mark?”
“The man who brought you to help me. His friend from the…” He seemed to search for the right word. “Emesee?”
“Embassy?”
Tony gave her a wide smile. “The embassy,” he repeated with a nod. “He told me Mark is a secret. He said I can only talk about him with you.”
The man named Ethridge. It had to be.
“Mark is strong. He’s brave, too.” Tony continued. “He helped you and Tía Margarita at the airport. When I waited for the doctor to help you, I saw Papá Arturo’s friend who was there, too. He said he was visiting someone at the hospital. Do you think that was Mark?”
Would Emilio Estrada visit Mark?
The nurse let Esperanza in.
“Thank you for everything, Esperanza,” Laura said as they hugged.
“He is a good boy, Laurita,” the older woman said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” With a look at Tony, she added, “We’ll talk when you get home.” Then she reached out to lift Tony off the examining table and onto the floor. “Come. We must not tire your mother so you and she can go home.”
“I have so much to tell my friends,” Tony said. “Papá Arturo said he would play fútbol with me when he gets home later.”
Laura hoped her father could keep that promise. He’d become indispensable in reassuring the country and the international community of stability after the aborted coup.
“Go with Tía Esperanza,” Laura said.
Tony kissed her. “Ciao, Mami.”
And there he went, back to Spanish, with the friendly Italian so many San Mateans used instead of adios. When he’d called her mami at the airfield, she thought it was because he was frightened. Maybe it wasn’t fear, maybe it was just the way a child who spoke two languages at such an early age could switch back and forth, as she had. She hugged him a little tighter than usual.
A nurse took her in a wheelchair to one of four patient rooms in the American wing of the hospital, past the area devoted to research in tropical medicine.
Time, which had whirled past, slowed once she was alone in the hospital room. She tried to wrap her head around what happened. Tony was safe.
Mark. He’d saved Tony. She’d doubted him, accused him of using her, yet he’d come through for both Tony and her.
And he’d known José Antonio. Had seen him when…
She couldn’t stop replaying every word, every nuance of Mark’s last words to her.
He told me to leave him.
He knew—we both knew—he wouldn’t make it.
He saved me once.
Was that why Mark came to her and Tony’s rescue? To repay a debt? He’d made love to her passionately. He’d said he wanted more. But his words had been disjointed, rambling.
I wanted to help him.
I tried.
That she knew. He would never leave anyone behind. He would never stop trying to save someone’s life. He hadn’t abandoned her or Tony or Victor Fuentes. That was the kind of man he was.
She had fallen in love with him. Because he was that kind of man.
Back at the clinic, Julie had said something she remembered again.
I have a propensity for men who disregard their safety for the sake of the greater good.
Her brother and father were not choices in her life, but José Antonio had been. She’d failed to accept them for who they were. Brave men who didn’t take reckless risks, didn’t disregard their safety, but lived by a code of honor. Like Victor Fuentes.
Like Mark.
Please, God, let him be alive.
The reality was that he could be dead like her brother and José Antonio.
Then she’d taken her grief, the hollowness of loss, and run away. She’d built a new life, determined never to go through that pain again. It had taken her four years, years when she’d hidden from the mistakes of her past, to realize that she was living a half-life.
How she wished she could go back and be more supportive of her brother’s and José Antonio’s military careers, of her father’s aspirations for San Mateo. She hated regrets.
Doubting Mark was another one she would have to live with.
But if he was alive, she could tell him.
If.
Ethridge had warned her not to mention Mark. And Tony had seen Emilio Estrada, here, visiting a friend. Ruiz had been taken to another hospital. Other than her, the only other person who needed medical treatment at the airfield had been Mark.
Maybe…
Would her father know? If he did, would he tell her?
***
Mark stared at the road ahead as a Green Beret sergeant drove him to the American airbase south of the capital. He’d been patched up and was going home. His cover was done. The debrief only verified it. Juan Marcos was killed at the airfield.
Ethridge didn’t ream him a new one for taking his eye off Ruiz and going after Arturo Herrera’s grandson. Probably because it had all worked out in the end. And because the call Sister Carmen made had given a heads-up not only to Ethridge, but to Herrera who asked that the Delta team step in to rescue the boy as well as Laura.
President Valdivia was firmly back in control. Ruiz would stand trial for treason as soon as he recovered. Ethridge believed the San Matean government’s investigation would reveal the ties Ruiz had to Primero de Mayo.
All the troops that were moved were going back. Ruiz thought that soldiers from the north would have no qualms shooting civilians in the south and vice versa. And the border dispute had calmed down again thanks to the intervention of the Organization of American States and the American secretary of state.
Arturo Herrera had come to see Mark, to thank him for saving both his daughter and grandson. Mark had muttered something he thought sounded reasonable when all he wanted to do was find Laura and… What?
Explain again? Hell, he couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said. What he did remember was the look of betrayal on her face before they crossed the river, then his half coherent muttering, regret punching at every painful breath he took, courtesy of a flesh wound and a broken rib. Something called vasovagal response had knocked him out. He’d never heard of it, but that was what the doctor said.
For all Laura knew, he could be dead. Did it matter to her?
He’d made love to her when he should have kept his hands off.
He hadn’t told her he loved her. How could he?
He’d lied to her when he could have found a way to tell her what her husband did for him.
But he hadn’t been able to save the man she loved.
Hell, seeing her hurt, both by a bullet and by him, had been a thousand times worse than being shot himself. The shock on her face, the pain in her voice made his heart ache.
The realization that he loved her had been… A punch in the gut.
But he’d finally come clean, so she knew.
He’d called his sister to make sure she didn’t freak out over any news she might hear either from her husband or someone else. She’d asked if he’d finally put his ghosts to rest.
He remembered Iglesias’s words. Your purpose.
He’d managed to save the man’s son. Maybe that made up for something. He would always regret not saving fellow soldiers. There would always be that universal question: why them, why not me?
Shit happens was the only answer. The last few days reminded him of that. He thought he’d understood that growing up when he’d traveled with his ambassador father and seen unconscionable suffering. His undercover work, both with the army and the CIA, had helped stop ruthless killers. He’d brought his men back from two deployments in Afghanistan. But he couldn’t save the three men in that terrorist compound. Iglesias and the other two were good soldiers. Well trained. But they weren’t immortal.
No one was. They, like he, knew what they did was worth the risk.
Risk.
Was he willing to leave without risking one more chance to talk to Laura?
They hadn’t reached the airbase yet.
“Hey,” he said to the sergeant driving, “I need to pick something up before I board the plane. Can you pull over at that store?”
***
Laura spent an hour on the phone chasing her father down with no luck. Frustrated, she’d just decided to get up and check herself out when she heard her hospital room door open.
“You’re awake,” Carmen, once again wearing street clothes rather than her nun’s habit, stood in the doorway. “How do you feel?”
“Impatient to get out of here,” Laura admitted. She’d find her father. She’d demand to be told what he knew about Mark.
“I’m so glad Tony’s home safe. I visited with him. It was good to see your father there.”
“My father was home?”
“Sí. He was playing a video game with Tony.”
Her father, playing video games?
“He seemed so happy, Laurita. This burden of Ruiz has been lifted from him.”
“I hope he can be more settled. Maybe even retire to the hacienda in the south.”
“The country needs him.” Carmen pulled up a chair. “I spoke with the man who saved Tony. I know his name is not Juan Marcos. He is not so happy, Laurita.”
Mark was alive! Relief brought a spike of tears that she hurriedly blinked away. “You spoke with him, when?”
“When I arrived about a half ago to visit two parishioners. He was being taken away. Back to his country, he said. He wore a hat and dark glasses. I almost didn’t recognize him. Por Dios, Laurita, he saved Tony. What did you say to him?”
“Say to him?”
“He said to tell you he’s sorry. What does he have to be sorry for?”
Suddenly, she couldn’t stop sobbing or keep her voice even. “He said José Antonio saved him once. That he saw José Antonio alive. In the Primero de Mayo encampment.” Her breath came in hiccupped gasps as she struggled to explain what Mark said. “That he told Mark to leave him.” She shook her head, helpless to continue.
Carmen handed her a tissue. She blew her nose and took several deep breaths.
“But Mark wouldn’t do that. He didn’t. I know he didn’t.” She’d seen regret and sorrow play across his features. And guilt.
Guilt. Had that been why he hadn’t told her before? Had what happened between them been the result of nothing but guilt?
“Of course he didn’t leave him. He’s a good man,” Carmen said. “He cares for you. And it’s more than caring. You shared something special with him. ¿No, hija?”
Laura laughed through the last of her tears. “This coming from a nun?”
“I may have taken vows, but I’m not dead. Be careful. It’s not just your heart you put at risk, but also this man’s.”
His heart. He’d been gentle, caring. Could that have only been what he had to do for his agency?
Laura shook her head. “You haven’t changed, Carmen. You’re still a romantic.”
“Why should I change? God knows my heart just as he knows yours.” She took Laura’s hand. “You know this man.”
Yes, she did. She had to see him again. Tell him… Tell him what? Thank you? Ask what he meant when he said he wanted more?
“I have the number he asked me to call. Use it. Talk to this man, Ethridge is his name.”
“You saved the number?”
Carmen pulled her phone from her pocket. “Consider carefully, prima, porque ese hombre te quiere.”
Because that man wants you.
Or the other meaning of te quiere? That man loves you.
***
“What the hell were you thinking, Cap?” Sam Mackenzie, dressed in fatigues, walked into the room at the American airbase where Mark had been stashed over two hours earlier, a guard posted outside the door.
“You can’t talk to a superior officer that way.” Shit. He sounded like a damn ass.
“You’re not in the army anymore and I’d say the same thing if you were, only I’d add ‘sir’ at the end.” Sam grabbed a chair and sat. “Trying to run from a guy who’s obeying orders? What’s with that?”
Desperation. He’d wanted to get to Laura one more time before he was banished from San Mateo. “I needed to make a call. Give me some credit. I wasn’t going to screw up anything.”
“I’m glad you didn’t try to overpower him.” Sam watched him with that uncanny ability he had. “Shit! You were going to!”
“I wasn’t going to hurt him,” Mark admitted. Though since he couldn’t take deep breaths without pain, he would probably have failed. Besides, Laura would go back to States, too. He’d get another chance. Make one. Maybe with time she’d forgive him.
“Damn.” Sam shook his head. “I’ve been sent to keep you from pulling some other crazy stunt.”
Mind made up on what he’d do once he got stateside, Mark decided to let it go. For now. A change of subject might get Sam off his back.
“I heard that the secretary of state has gotten involved in settling the border dispute. Hope she’s not going to get into some other situation that requires sending your team in.”
“She’s playing it safe now,” Sam said.
“Seeing you get shot saving her might have something to do with that.”
“The secretary’s a tough woman. I have to give her credit for not freaking out.” Sam sat back in his chair, but Mark wasn’t fooled. Sam wouldn’t let down his guard, no matter what they talked about. No way would he let Mark out of his sight.
“Speaking of tough women,” Sam continued. “I ran into Margarita Ruiz this morning. She doesn’t look like the same person. She said to thank you.”
“Thank me for what? I shot her husband.”
“For saving Estrada. Only she called him Emilio.”
Mark had seen how Estrada treated her. Yeah, there was something between them.
“She’s one complicated woman, but smart,” Sam said. “And scary, frankly.”
“What’s going to happen to her?”
“My guess is she’ll avoid trouble since she helped the government,” Sam said. “She risked her life by telling Estrada about Herrera’s grandson and Ruiz’s plans. She knew that one of the drivers at the airfield was Estrada’s man and knew there was likely to be shooting, so she stayed close to the boy.”
“She has a soft spot for him,” Mark said.
Sam didn’t say anything for long moments, just watched him in that quiet way Sam had of studying situations. Of course, what Mark had seen was more of how Sam watched a target while on overwatch.
“It’s Laura Iglesias, isn’t it?” Sam asked.
Yeah, Sam was that good at reading people.
“You were trying to get away from your guy so you could fix the mess you made of what you were trying to get across to her.”
“What the hell? You were listening?”
“I was keeping an eye on you, afraid you were going to dive head first into the dirt. So?”
He shrugged. He refused to get into it with Sam. “How long can it possibly take to get a transport ready for takeoff?” he asked. “Hell, I could have flown commercial at this rate.”
“And get both our asses fried? No way. I’m doing what Ethridge said to do. Put you on this plane, personally, and take you home.”
“If you’re going along with Ethridge, you must be coming around to the idea of working for the agency.”
Sam laughed. “Hell, no. Not in anyone’s wildest dreams. I’m following orders from my command.”
The door behind them opened. Mark turned.
Laura stood balanced on crutches.
Sam jumped to his feet. “Can I help you get—”
“Thank you, but I’ve got it from here.” She took an awkward step forward.
Sam looked from her to Mark, then with a quick casual salute, left.
Mark pushed himself out of the chair, afraid to ask what she was doing here. Had she come to hear the gory details? To berate him?
He took a step toward her, but she waved him back. Not a good start. “How are you?” he asked.
“The crutches are just in case my leg gives, which it won’t. I’m fine. Nothing serious.”
“I’m glad,” he said.
“What about you?” She hobbled closer.
“I’m good.” They’d become polite strangers.
“You were shot.” She looked him over, as if searching for wounds.
“The worst of it is a broken a rib.”
“But you were unconscious.” She took another awkward step.
“My blood pressure dropped. I’m fine. Is your son okay? Is he dealing with everything okay?”
“He’s fine. Great, really.”
“Good.” What the hell was wrong with him? He’d wanted another chance to explain and all he could say was “good?”
She took several more steps until she reached his side, then leaned one crutch against the chair next to him and held on to the other one to keep her balance.
“I want to thank you, again, and apologize.”
“Apologize? What for? I’m the one who—”
“For doubting you. For saying you used me.”
“Didn’t you hear what I told you? About your husband.”
“You didn’t leave him,” she said, her gaze steady on him. “Just like you didn’t leave Victor Fuentes, or me, or Tony. You wouldn’t do that.” She waited, but he didn’t reply, so she added. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Because he’d lived with what happened for so long, he couldn’t get the words right. How could he explain falling in love with her when it was so unexpected, so complicated?
He gestured for her to sit. Once she was settled, he lowered himself back into his chair
“I met Mr. Ethridge,” she said.
He sat up straighter, wincing. “When?”
“When we got to the hospital. He warned me not to mention you, then left. But I had to know. Carmen still had his number. He sent someone to bring me here.”
“Ethridge sent—” Mark wasn’t sure he followed. “You—” He wanted to be sure he understood. “You came here because Carmen and Ethridge wanted you to?
“No.” She shook her head. “I came because I wanted to see you. I needed to. I—”
“I’m sorry, Laura. Sorry for what happened to him, for my inability to help him. He saved my life the year before. When…” His cover was almost blown by a gun runner who figured out who he was.
“I know there are things you can’t tell me.”
But there was something she should know. “He was a good soldier. A brave man.”
“Did… Did you help me as repayment of a debt? Because he saved your life?”
He owed her honestly. “Maybe a little at first, but after I got to know you, no. No way. It was about you and Tony.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Ethridge told me you were shot trying to carry him out of the encampment.”
Son of a bitch. Who’d have thought? Ethridge, talking too much. “He told you?”
She nodded. “Which scar is it?”
“Scar?”
“From the standoff. Which scar is it?”
He paused before answering. “The one at my temple.”
She hissed a breath.
“I have a hard head.” But he’d lost consciousness and when he woke up, Iglesias was dead. He’d gotten the hell out of there.
She blinked a few times and then bit her lip. “What about the one on your side?”
“Afghanistan, during my army days.” What he’d done during that little cockup was instinctive. He hated that damn medal because it didn’t honor what his men did.
When she asked, he went on to tell her briefly about the scar on his shoulder, skimming over the details of what happened a year ago.
“Your sister is married to Nicholas Romero?”
“Yes,” he replied. “His cousin—”
“Was killed with José Antonio.”
“Both of them knew who I was and what I was doing.” What he’d spent so much time chasing. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save them.”
She raised her hand from his arm, eased back in her chair and seemed to study him. Mark clenched his jaw, waiting. Watching her.
“You feel guilty about what happened. You shouldn’t—” She took a quick breath. “The night we— When I was afraid Tony would blame me, you told me that I shouldn’t blame myself. That he wouldn’t.”
“I was right, wasn’t I? He doesn’t blame you at all.”
“He doesn’t, but let me finish. Please.” She leaned forward again, but didn’t touch him. “I realized something earlier.” She looked past him to the plane waiting to take him back to the States. “When I thought I might never see you again.”
Mark’s thoughts leapt ahead. Did that mean she forgave him? Did it mean more? Less?
“I realized I made a lot of mistakes before. I don’t want to make more.” She looked at the floor for a heartbeat before raising her eyes to him. “You said you were afraid to tell me.” She tilted her head as if to look at him from another angle. “Afraid of what?”
“Of causing you more pain.” He blew out a breath. “Of how you’d feel about me. Selfish, I know.”
“You’re not selfish.”
“Don’t you blame me?” The reason he’d been too scared to tell her.
“Blame you?” she sounded incredulous. “How can I blame you? You could have died trying to save those men. And Tony. And me because I didn’t trust you. So, no, I don’t blame you. You shouldn’t blame yourself. I appreciate what you did. I’m grateful.”
“I don’t want your appreciation. I don’t want you to feel grateful.” Of that, he was sure.
“You want my forgiveness when there’s nothing for me to forgive.” She took his hand. “You need to forgive yourself.”
“If I’d—”
“You told me not to dwell of what ifs. Please don’t do it yourself.”
“Using my own words against me?” Mark tried to smile, tried to make his comment lighthearted. There was nothing lighthearted about him right now.
“At the airfield, you said you wanted to tell me when I became more. What did you mean?”
Mark was sure she could feel the tension in him. He was afraid, more than before, because he knew this might be his last chance. “The timing was—is—bad. Worse than bad. You just learned something that has to hurt, but…” He might as well say it even though he was about to sound ridiculous and corny, but what the hell. “I don’t want your gratitude. I don’t want your thanks. I want a chance. To have… an us.” There. He said it.
She smiled and he hoped against all hope that it was a good sign, that she felt even one tenth of what he did. The warmth of her hand on his seeped into the distance he’d struggled to maintain from the moment he told her the truth.
“I told you. I don’t want to make any more mistakes. I think we deserve a chance for an us, too.”
If he could jump up and cheer, he would. But he had one more truth to tell. The most important one. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Laura Iglesias. You’re brave, loving, compassionate. A wonderful mother.”
She didn’t say anything for what seemed a forever. “I—”
He placed two fingers over her lips. “No, don’t say anything now. I know my murky life is a problem, but please give me time. Normal time, not the craziness of the past few days. Then, if you realize I’m not someone you want in your life—”
“If I’ve learned nothing else so far, it’s that risks are worth taking. You’re worth the risk.” Her hand tightened on his and she zeroed in on his eyes. “I don’t need more time to know I want you in my life.”
“I insist.” He let out a breath. “I want to get to know Tony and for him to get to know me. I don’t want you to regret your decisions. So, one year. If after a year of normal, you still want me, I’m yours forever.”
“Okay. One year. Any other conditions?”
“No, that’s it.”
“Then I look forward to the year, but I know you, Mark. You’re a good person and I love you.” She brushed his lips with hers.
It was the sweetest thing he’d ever felt. She took his breath away and he held on.
“Excuse me, Captain Williams?”
Mark looked up at the huge grin on Sam’s face. The Delta operator was enjoying interrupting.
“I’m here to escort you to the transport, sir.”
Mark shot him a bird behind Laura’s back and replied, “Thank you.”
Sam laughed and walked back out the door.
“You’re a captain?”
“I was once. Now I’m just plain Mark Williams. My murky past is more than likely behind me. I hope that’s enough for a start.”
“You’re more than enough.”
And she kissed him.