Mac fidgeted in the hospital bed, frustrated by his enforced stillness. Two weeks of bed rest had all but killed him. His wrist still hurt under the cast, but he’d been through worse. He looked out the window at the darkness outside. Somewhere out there was Susan. What was she doing tonight? Was she thinking of him? Counting herself lucky to have gotten rid of the bastard who messed up her life every time he got near her?

A deep voice spoke behind him. “Hey, you slacker. Enjoying lying around getting waited on hand and foot?”

Mac turned his head to look at Colonel Foley. “Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

Mac shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about himself. “Any luck identifying Ruala’s body?”

Colonel Foley grinned. “We got the DNA report back today. That was Ramon Ruala you took out, all right.”

Profound relief swept through him. Now Susan would be safe. “Thank God,” he said aloud. He shifted his weight in the bed and flinched as his arm protested. His boss made a sympathetic grimace. Mac recalled that the colonel had broken his left forearm on his last mission, too.

Foley asked, “How’s the arm? I heard you’re healing nicely.”

“The docs say only time will tell if I’ll be able to go out in the field again.”

Colonel Foley sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. “If anybody can make it back, it’s you. But don’t sweat it either way. You know there’s a standing offer for you to teach demolitions at the Special Forces schoolhouse.”

Mac nodded. He’d been trying to prepare himself for the last two weeks to be put out to pasture like a broken-down old racehorse. Maybe retirement wouldn’t be so bad if he had someone to go home to. But he didn’t. He was alone.

If he really loved Susan, he would walk away from her. Leave her the hell alone and quit wrecking her life every time he came into contact with her. God, it hurt, though.

The colonel’s casual voice interrupted his misery. “I hear you’ve gone off your feed. Been a little out of it, recently. Anything bugging you that I can help with?”

Mac’s gaze snapped to his boss’s. They were much more than senior officer and subordinate. Much more than teammates. Much more even than friends. They’d been to hell and back together more times than he could count over the past eight years. “Are you asking as my boss or as a friend?”

“Either. Both.”

Mac closed his eyes against the searing pain that swept through him. He managed to grit out, “How’s Susan doing?”

She’d been whisked into protective custody straight from the site of the explosion. Nobody but the guys on the Blackjacks knew she was alive. There’d even been a mock funeral, which thankfully he’d been too laid up from his injuries to attend. In keeping with the story that she’d died in the fire, Tex had even worked out a deal for Frank Riverra to run the ranch permanently.

Colonel Foley shrugged. “She’s about like you’d expect. Lonely. Scared. Putting on a brave front.”

“Do me a favor,” Mac asked abruptly. “Keep an eye out for her, will you? She’s not nearly as tough as she tries to be. She could use a friend.”

Colonel Foley answered quietly, “She doesn’t need me, buddy. She needs you.”

Mac jolted. “Excuse me?”

Colonel Foley’s steady, steel blue gaze met his. “You heard me.”

Mac shook his head. “It’s more complicated that that. I’ve hurt her too bad too many times. I don’t…” He sighed. “I just can’t. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”

The colonel shrugged. “It’s your life. But that reminds me. I’ve got something for you.” He pulled out a flat, dark-blue box about the size of his palm.

Mac recognized the vinyl container. Military medals came in them. With his right hand he caught the box the colonel flipped at him. He opened the lid and looked inside to see a Purple Heart resting on a background of silver velvet.

“How many is that for you?” the colonel asked. “Four?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Mac replied. “I don’t keep count.”

Colonel Foley grinned. “Congratulations and all that stuff.”

Mac grinned, his mood momentarily lightened. They both knew they weren’t in their profession for the medals. He snapped the lid closed.

“Seriously, that medal isn’t just scrap iron,” Colonel Foley commented. “It’s your country’s way of saying thank you. Lord knows we don’t get much recognition in our line of work, but Uncle Sam knows you’re out there and that you put your butt on the line to protect the nation.” He added lightly, “Too bad I can’t award medals to civilians. Lord knows, Susan deserves a couple of those, too.”

Mac stared down at the box in his hand. A tiny fire lit in his gut and caught on. It grew and grew until it was a frenzied firestorm whipping through him. He looked up at his boss. “How fast can you get me out of here?”

The colonel didn’t miss a beat. Clever bastard had probably pushed his buttons intentionally. “It’s nearly midnight, but I expect I can have you out of here in thirty minutes.”

“Make it twenty.” Mac sat up briskly and swung his feet over the side of the bed. “Where are my damned clothes?” he growled, spurred on by the sudden flames of hope raging inside him.

Colonel Foley laughed. “I’ll go pull the appropriate strings while you track down your pants. And, Mac?”

He glanced up at his boss.

“Ferrare sent his reply to our note. We got it today.”

“What did it say?” Mac held his breath, tense.

“He said to bring on our revenge. He bought Susan’s death. She’s safe.”

Mac grinned. “Make it ten minutes, sir.”

* * *

Susan tossed and turned, the bed sheets hot and clingy. And then she heard it. A thump downstairs. Somebody was in the house. Darkness enveloped her, and her room was cloaked in menacing shadows, just like the night this whole nightmare started. Her bedside clock said it was a little after 1:00 a.m.

Her pulse jumped and fear choked her. Had Ferrare’s men come for her? Had they managed to kill the U.S marshals outside and get into her hiding place? She considered creeping into her bathroom, locking the door and hiding in the bathtub. But something reckless inside her didn’t care if she lived or died anymore. Taking risks had ceased to matter. Mac was gone. Her heart was broken for good this time. So what if she ought to call the Blackjacks right now instead of investigating for herself?

She got out of bed and opened the bedroom door. She paused and listened but heard nothing. Easing down the stairs, she didn’t see anything unusual. A dull knife of loss stabbed her heart anew. How she wished for Mac’s strong, confident presence, right now. He would make short work of an intruder in her house.

She lurched as a shadow rose up in front of the fireplace. “Don’t move,” she ordered. “I’ve got a gun and I’ll shoot.”

“Don’t be silly, Suzie. That’s your finger pointing at me.”

She exhaled sharply. “Mac Conlon, one of these days I’m going to shoot you for real if you keep scaring me like that.”

Her heart raced like a runaway horse’s. Why was he here? Did she dare hope?

An awkward silence fell between them.

“Come sit down, Suzie. We need to talk.”

She sat gingerly on the edge of the sofa while he added wood to the fire he’d just built. He sat down close enough to look deeply into her eyes in the fledgling firelight.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“I’m fine. It’s just that—” the words burst out of her in a rush “—I’ve been so worried about you, Mac. It was so hard being here alone. Nobody knows if Ferrare bought my death or not, and we don’t even know for sure that Ruala’s dead, and then I lost you again—”

Somehow she ended up in his arms, her face buried against his chest, while sobs shook her shoulders. His big, capable hands rubbed her back while she cried it all out.

“Whoa, there, sweetheart,” he murmured into her hair. “I came to tell you the DNA results came back today. Ruala’s dead. And, we heard from Ferrare. He bought your death. You can go back to a real life, now. A new one, but a life.”

She smiled up at him in huge relief. And then burst into tears again.

He rode out the second round of sobs with admirable aplomb and then said wryly, “Things can’t be all that bad. We both made it through the op, didn’t we?”

She nodded, mortified. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen apart like that.

“Better?” he murmured.

“Yes. Except I have the hiccups now.”

She felt his smile against her temple. “Want me to scare them out of you?”

“No, thank you,” she answered shakily.

He set her away from him and she looked up into his eyes, which glowed in the flickering light. Just looking at him nourished her soul. How was she ever going to survive without him?

“I came to apologize to you, Susan. I never had the guts to do it after the shooting ten years ago. But I’m going to try to get it right this time.”

She frowned. She didn’t want any apologies from him. She wanted his heart! Her hopes fell, dashed against the rocky, unscalable cliffs of his damned honor.

He said soberly, “There aren’t words to describe how bad I feel about what you’ve had to go through. If I’d done my job right ten years ago, none of this would have happened. I just want you to know that I’m truly sorry. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

She closed her eyes against the anguish of listening to him walk away from her again. He might not be doing it with his feet, but he was closing off his heart and shutting down his soul before her very eyes.

“I brought something for you,” he said quietly. He held out a flat box that looked black in the yellow firelight.

“What is it?” she asked as she took it.

“Open it up and see.”

It was a military medal. In the shape of a heart. She looked up at him questioningly.

“It’s the Purple Heart I was awarded for this mission to save you.”

She was vaguely familiar with Purple Hearts. They had something to do with getting hurt. “What’s it for?”

“Soldiers get one each time they’re wounded in combat.”

She looked from the medal to him. “Why are you giving it to me?” she asked, confused.

“Because nobody else is going to thank you for the sacrifice you’ve made for your country. For identifying Ruala and making the call to us. For going through the ordeal of the last couple weeks. And for being willing to give up your friends and family for weeks, months or years while we track down Ferrare. I figure after all that, you’ve earned a medal.”

“Why this one?” she asked, still confused.

“Because you were wounded a hell of a lot worse than I was by all of this.”

“How can you say that? Carlos nearly beat you to death. I got a limp and a scar out of our first encounter with Ferrare. But you—” Her voice broke. “Colonel Foley told me you may not be able to work with the Blackjacks anymore because of your broken wrist.”

She took a wobbly breath that very nearly broke over into a sob. “God, Mac, it’s all my fault.”

The words came tumbling out, and she couldn’t stop them. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to cost you your career. I know how much it means to you. I was so stupid to run out of the ranch house when I knew Ruala was coming soon….”

His finger pressed gently against her lips.

“Suzie. Stop. I don’t blame you for what happened to me. I made my own choices, and this is the price I paid. The important thing is we both got out alive. Ruala’s dead and Ferrare believes you’re dead. The mission was a success. Except for the part where I broke your heart again.”

She heard his words of absolution, his lips granting her forgiveness, but it meant nothing to her. Her own guilt was too overwhelming to be fixed by any simple statement of exoneration.

And then it hit her. “Oh my God,” she breathed. She gazed at him in dawning understanding. The revelation that rolled over her took her breath away. Dear God, let it not have come too late.

“What?” he asked sharply, instantly on full combat alert. He looked quickly all around the room.

“I get it now,” she gasped.

He frowned. “You get what?”

“Why you spent all those years thinking you hadn’t taken care of me like you should have.” He looked confused but she rushed onward. “Is this how you felt after the surveillance van got shot up? Like nothing I could say would ever make it right?” She probably wasn’t making a darn bit of sense. She must sound like she’d lost her mind.

He stared at her closely. And then he nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s exactly how I felt.”

“Oh, Mac, when will you ever listen to me about that night?”

He frowned. “I’m listening now.”

She grasped his hands in desperation. She spoke slowly, willing him to really hear what she had to say. “If you hadn’t been outside the van and managed to back off Ruala with your suppression fire as fast as you did, I’d have died for sure. You saved my life that night!”

He stared at her hard. Deep in the back of his eyes, she saw the hard wall around his heart dissolve a little.

“Do you hate me for running out of the house because I was upset that you called me a cripple?” she pressed, frantic to make him see the truth.

He jolted. “Hell, no! I never should have said that. I was frustrated and blurted it out to shock the guys into agreeing with me. I understand why it upset you. Why would I hate you for that?”

She stared deep into his eyes, searching for comprehension in them. “Don’t you see? I never hated you, either.”

He frowned. “But—”

She interrupted him. “Am I right that, at some level, part of why you came to the ranch on this mission was to get my forgiveness for whatever wrong you perceived you’d done to me?”

He thought about it for a second. And nodded slowly.

“When I saw you tonight,” she continued, “my first thought was to hope I could get you to forgive me for wrecking your arm and your career.”

She leaned forward, her body thrumming with need for him to understand. “But, Mac. Neither one of us needs to forgive the other. What we both have to do is forgive ourselves.”

His hands squeezed hers painfully tight. “Suzie.” His voice was hoarse and he paused to clear it roughly. “Suzie, are you telling me that, after everything that’s happened, you don’t blame me for the things that have happened to you?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you ever since you got here! I chose to get in that surveillance van ten years ago, and I chose to be bait this time around to lure out Ruala. What really counts is how you feel about you. In here.” She touched his chest over his heart.

He frowned as if he wasn’t quite sure he bought it.

She pressed the point. “You said it before. We each make our own choices. Life throws us all curve balls we don’t expect, and we have to deal with them and move on as best we can. I can forgive myself. Can you forgive yourself?”

He looked at her a long time. The fire hissed quietly while he considered her words. He ran a hand through his hair, a sure sign that he was struggling with difficult thoughts.

Panic hovered close to the surface, just beneath her skin. Her future, their future, hung on what he was thinking. “Talk to me, Mac,” she urged.

“Dammit, Susan. Every time I come into your life I bring you disaster. If I were going to do the right thing by you, to act on that sense of obligation you keep accusing me of being lost in, I would get up right now and walk out of your life forever.”

“Because you love me,” she stated flatly.

“Yes. I love you enough to leave, so you’ll be safe from any further harm from me.

She whispered past her constricted throat, “Love is never safe, Mac. It’s the biggest risk of all. And whether you like it or not, I love you. I’ve already taken the risk. Leaving me won’t change that. It’ll only cause me pain.”

He turned his anguished gaze on her. His words sounded literally torn out of his throat. “I don’t want to leave you, dammit. I want to get down on my knees right now and beg you to marry me. To ask you to spend the rest of your life with me and make babies with me and grow old together.”

He buried his head in his hands.

She waited him out, praying he would work it through.

Finally he looked up again. “I can’t be noble any more. I can’t do the right thing and walk away again. It’s killing me.”

A tiny, little warm feeling started way down in her toes and started to grow upward. “You don’t have to walk away to be noble, Mac. Sometimes staying is the courageous choice.”

He visibly absorbed her words into himself. Something relaxed around his shoulders like a weight was lifting from them. He spoke carefully. “I don’t know how to convince you that I want to take care of you because I love you, not because I’m hung up on some twisted sense of duty.”

It was her turn to stare in shock.

“Do you really mean that?” she whispered.

“God, yes! I love you. Just for you. No strings attached, just the way you asked me to a couple weeks ago.”

Her skin started tingling and a flush heated her cheeks.

“I can’t lie to you,” he said low, each word ripped from his gut. “I won’t ever completely forgive myself for any part I’ve had in causing you a single second of pain. That’s just the way I am. But it’s not the basis of my feelings for you. Can you accept that?”

The warm feeling in her heart transformed into blinding light, shining like the sun, illuminating her soul from the inside out.

“Mac,” she said carefully, “I’ll never forget watching you take that beating for me. I’ll never forgive myself completely for it. I’ll carry that memory around with me till the day I die. But—” she took a deep breath and then plunged ahead “—I believe it’s possible for a relationship to have its scars and not only survive but be strong and wonderful and beautiful.”

He reached out and touched the scar on her neck lightly. “Just like people,” he murmured.

She reached up out of habit to hide her scar.

Mac intercepted her hand and drew it to his mouth, kissing her fingertips. “Baby, I even love your scar and your wrecked knee. I love everything about you.”

“I love your scars, too,” she answered quietly. She touched the place over his heart lightly. “I especially admire the ones in here. But can you live with them?”

A slow smile broke across his face. “Yeah. I think I can.”

And then he slid off the couch and took a knee at her feet. “Susan Monroe, I need you worse than life itself. I want to spend the rest of my life healing your heart. Marry me. Please.”

Tears filled her eyes as the light overflowed her soul, bursting forth in a brilliant glow of love around them that would never dim. “Only if you’ll let me heal your heart, too, Mac.”

She flung herself into his arms, toppling them both over onto the floor. He hugged her close, cushioning and absorbing their fall, protecting her the way he always did.

She sprawled on top of him, alarmed. “I didn’t hurt your arm, did I?”

“Who the hell cares about my arm?” he growled. “Are you going to marry me or not?”

“Oh, yes, Mac. Yes, I’ll marry you!”

And the healing for both of them began.