Risking It All Read online

  Trust equaled vulnerability, and Cash never wanted to be vulnerable again. At least not without his team to back him up, and somehow, he didn’t see crying on their shoulder when things with Rina didn’t work out as an option.

  “Rina, you said it yourself. The danger scares you. And you’re right to let it scare you. I don’t think I’m the best risk for you.”

  “Why don’t I get to decide that for myself?”

  “You already did, remember?”

  “That was before I knew you. Sometimes, things are meant to be. Sometimes, things are worth the risk. I think you are.”

  Was he? His brain screamed no, but other, more influential parts of his body, including his heart, tugged him in a different direction. He’d been so busy showing her, telling her not to be scared, to grab for new opportunities, that he hadn’t been listening to his own advice.

  Your situation’s different.

  He’d have to tell her about Africa. Eventually, because eventually she was going to leave him for that continent and he would have to deal with it.

  His old CO used to say, If you’ve got one foot in yesterday and one in tomorrow, you’ll just end up pissing on today.

  But, for now, he was losing himself in her, and forgetting about past and future. Mainly because the ringing beeper was hell-bent on keeping him firmly in the present.

  He reached across her to the night table, where he’d left his beeper and phone, and groaned inwardly. Another call in. Training, most probably, but who knew for sure.

  “I’ve, ah, got to go,” he said. “Dammit, I don’t want to leave you tonight.”

  “But you have to. I’m sorry I ruined your celebration.”

  “It was only dinner. We weren’t doing the town, because technically we’re on call.”

  “I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy,” she said. “I’m thinking of sending out the grant stuff tomorrow.”

  “I’m proud of you,” he said, loving the way she smiled almost shyly at the compliment. “Give me a second, and I’ll walk out with you.”

  He went into the bathroom and when he came out a few minutes later, he was dressed in his jungle greens. He grabbed a bag out of his closet and slung it across his shoulder. “What are you staring at? You’ve seen me dressed like this before.”

  “I was just…thinking,” she said.

  “Too much thinking.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him, hard. And then he kissed her fiercely, a kiss that would tide him over for the rest of the night and day, a kiss to remind her why she’d come here, to him, in the first place.

  MAC WAS HOME EARLY. Or maybe he was on time and Jenny had lost track, which she tended to do when her back was up against a deadline, but he always managed to enter the house without her hearing him.

  It used to scare the life out of her when they’d first married, but now she merely jumped slightly off the floor instead of halfway to the ceiling.He’d only been gone a week and a half this time, longer than he’d promised, but when she looked at him, she saw the same guy who’d sauntered in ten years earlier with a bandage wrapped around the side of his neck, a split lip and a desire to want to make love to her.

  He had that same look in his eye tonight, and there were no apparent injuries, which was always a good thing.

  “You need to shoot off flares when you get in the vicinity of the neighborhood,” she said.

  “I like surprising you,” he quipped. The old shtick. Familiar, comforting. “What are you still doing up? It’s almost dawn.”

  She opened her mouth to answer him, to tell him she’d taken the test three times since he’d been away, but couldn’t. Instead, she tried not to let the emotion choke her up. But, after ten years—who was she kidding, after ten minutes—Mac knew her better than she knew herself. He didn’t say anything, but wrapped his arms around her and held her.

  They stood together in the hallway for a long time, until she whispered against his chest, “I took another test. I’m not pregnant.”

  “Jen, why don’t we just adopt?”

  She shook her head, her cheek rasping against the crisp fabric of his uniform. “Not yet.”

  It wasn’t that she had a problem with adopting—in fact, she felt strongly enough about it that she’d probably adopt even if she did have a child of her own. But to give up trying now, to admit failure, was something she wasn’t ready to do.

  “I hate seeing you do this to yourself,” he said.

  “But you do like the way we’ve got to keep trying, don’t you?” She peered up at him and he grinned.

  “You never fail to surprise me.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Very.” He pulled back, wiped her cheeks with his palm. “Are you sure there aren’t more tests we can take? They come up with new things every day.”

  “We’ve been through all the tests.” Hopelessly embarrassing tests. She winced as she remembered when the nurse had shoved a cup and a porno magazine at Mac in the middle of the waiting room.

  Mac, of course, had seen a lot worse in his lifetime and merely grinned at the nurse, handed her the magazine back. He’d grabbed Jenny’s hand and pulled her to the private room with him, ignoring the nurse’s protests.

  “Who needs skin mags? I like this skin the best,” he’d whispered against her lips, then urged her to talk dirty to him.

  In the end, his sperm hadn’t been the problem, and he’d never even cracked the most obvious joke that, of course they’d be good swimmers. No, the problem was all hers.

  Odds were 30/70 that she’d conceive on her own. And she was going to put that thirty percent to the test for two more years before she called uncle.

  “Then you’re doing too much thinking, not enough practicing making babies,” Mac said. “We’ve got a whole twelve days to make up for.”

  He always made her feel better. Rough and tough on the outside, rough and tough on the inside, and forever able to bring her to her knees. Yes, they’d make babies together. She was sure of it.

  15

  A RESTLESS NIGHT proved to Rina just how used to sleeping next to Cash she’d become over the past weeks. In desperation, she’d grabbed a pillow to hang on to, but it was so not the same.

  She gave up on pretending and dragged herself over to the computer sometime after two in the morning, didn’t look up until sunlight splashed across the screen. She opened the curtains of the hotel room and let in one of the most beautiful sunrises ever. It stretched lazily across the horizon, as if being cajoled from sleep. She put her arms over her head and stretched out the weariness from her body.She wished the hotel room had a balcony to walk out to, and her body responded at the thought of what Cash had done to her on the balcony in Hawaii.

  She wondered if they had balconies in Africa, then reminded herself that there was no guarantee of getting the grant. The competition was fierce in the short documentary business, but after yesterday’s conversation with her mother, she was even more determined to succeed. To prove everyone who’d thought she couldn’t do it, including herself, wrong.

  Since she knew there’d be no filming with the base technically deserted of the SEALs, she agreed to meet her aunt for brunch when she called a while later. Meanwhile, Stella, Zoot and Keith hit the post office to mail the completed grant proposal, since Rina wasn’t sure she’d let the postal employees pry it from her hands. Then they were going to celebrate. Rina would meet them later.

  Jenny was seated at one of the corner tables by a lit fireplace when Rina arrived at the restaurant. And there were already mimosas on the table.

  “It smells delicious in here. I’m starving,” Rina said, giving her aunt a quick hug before she sat down.

  “Probably because you’ve been spending more time working than eating. I know I have,” Jenny said, pushing the basket of muffins toward her. Rina picked a blueberry one out of the basket and, yum, it was still warm.

  “How’s your deadline coming along?” Rina asked through bites of buttere
d muffin.

  “If I work through the afternoon, I should be able to finish tonight. Or by the time the sun comes up, anyway.” Jenny smiled and shrugged, looking much younger than she was. “Mac left again for another few days. When he’s gone, the hours tend to blend into each other anyway.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “I have a feeling you’re learning,” Jenny agreed. “The team’s been called in quite a bit since you’ve been here.”

  “Is that normal? Is that the way it always happens?”

  “It happens more than that, usually. It’s hard to say though, after a while, I just got so used to it. Many of the military wives I knew when I first married didn’t. Marriage is tough enough without the kind of pressure the military adds to it.”

  Rina nodded, bit into the last half of the muffin and tried not to think about that. But her aunt wasn’t stopping there.

  “Speaking of tough, I heard you and your mom had a conversation that went off the rails.”

  She sighed, drank half the mimosa before answering. “I thought it was about time I told her. I guess maybe I should’ve held out longer. Or I could have lied and told her I’m back in Hawaii when I do go to Africa.”

  “I’m glad you told her the truth.”

  “She blames you and Uncle Mac, you know.”

  “I don’t mind taking some of the heat.”

  “But I do,” Rina said. “This was—is—my decision.”

  Jenny played with the stem of her glass. “I’m sorry I never told you the truth about David. I didn’t want you to find out like that. Truthfully, I didn’t want you to find out at all. I guess I’m getting as overprotective as your mom.”

  “It came as a pretty big shock, especially because mom wasn’t exactly calm when she told me. At first, I thought maybe she was exaggerating, but then I asked Cash.”

  “Yes, he knew about what happened. David’s death became something of a case to study when more reporters started embedding with the troops. At least what they learned helped other reporters.” Jenny’s face tightened for a second, and Rina reached out and grabbed her aunt’s hand.

  “That’s why I want to finish what he started out there. It’s something I feel strongly about, but it’s also a tribute to him.” Rina paused. “I can’t imagine what it was like for him, living with the troops, being there under fire, all to capture images of both the soldiers and the war-torn area. I know it was important for him to show both sides of the skirmishes.”

  “Ordinary people pushed to their limits can do extraordinary things,” Jenny agreed. “Speaking of extraordinary, what about Cash?”

  “What about him? He’s been encouraging me the most, telling me to go for it, not to be afraid.”

  “Sounds like him.”

  “I thought you wanted me to go, too.”

  “I do. I know how important documentary filmmaking is to you. And I know how easy it is to get so wrapped up in your work that you let everything else go to shit.”

  Rina looked into her aunt’s eyes, surprised at that admission. She and Uncle Mac seemed to have hit the perfect balance, but she wondered if she’d missed something. After all, she hadn’t been around them much until these past months.

  “All I’m saying is, if you’ve read your uncle’s letters, I hope you’ll recognize that he was lonely an awful lot of the time. His work consumed him, and a lot of that was his fault. He let the job take over everything. And in the end, I don’t think he was happy about it. It was a hard lesson for me to learn, but I did.”

  “I guess it’s a fine line,” Rina said.

  “If you and Cash are going to have a real chance, any chance, you can’t let the work consume you. It’ll be easy for it to, especially because he’s away so much. You figure, what’s the harm, that you’ll make up the time during the few weeks here and there when you spend it together. And that might be okay for a while.”

  “Are you saying I have to give up my career?”

  “No. I didn’t, remember? It’s just that you’ve got to try harder than most, to make each moment count. To not let yourself get so wrapped up in the film that you don’t take time out for you. And for him.” Jenny paused. “I hope I didn’t scare you. I didn’t want to come across all lecturing, like a mom.”

  “You didn’t scare me. I’m lucky to have you helping me through this. And, for the record, I think you’ll make an amazing mom,” Rina told her. Her aunt’s eyes filled with tears, and so did hers, but they were both smiling.

  “Enough of this serious talk. Let’s eat. And gossip,” Jenny said. Rina opened the menu and realized she was hungry enough to eat half of what was listed there. Her thoughts drifted to Cash again. Was he eating well, or at least thinking about her, wherever he was?

  JENNY STAYED at the table after Rina left, partly to procrastinate about her looming deadline and partly to give in to reverie. This thing between her niece and Cash brought so much to the forefront, and some memories were sweeter than others.

  Jenny’s relationship with Mac had mixed the good with the bad right from the start, from that first night they’d spent together.They’d been in the car in front of his apartment building, making out like teenagers. She remembered wanting to get upstairs desperately, but they’d been unable to break apart to actually get there. She’d never expected to be hit so hard by her feelings for Mac.

  That’s not true, she chided herself. She had expected that, but she’d been hoping for a different outcome.

  She crossed her arms around herself, enjoying the warmth of the fire and certain that if she just closed her eyes she could feel Mac’s arms around her that night.

  “Jenny,” he’d murmured against her cheek. His cheek was rough, and she loved the feel of it next to her smooth skin. His hands suddenly stopped their exploration of her body, and she knew why he wanted to talk then. “There’s something you need to know.”

  She lifted her head from his chest, wondered if she could get away with telling him to be quiet and then reminded herself this is what she’d come here for. This very purpose. For closure. And in the quiet of the car, she’d whispered, “You knew my brother.” “How the…?” He stopped, pulled back from her.

  “I was prepared to hate you. Blame you. Anything.” She traced his opened palm with her finger. “But I had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “David’s letters,” she said simply.

  “He talked about me?”

  She knew David wasn’t supposed to mention names—even nicknames. Anything that could give away identities or positions was off-limits, but really, the game was all about trust. No one ever checked his outgoing letters. And yes, he’d talked about Mac and the other men, about how strong and brave they were. How they were men doing a job that most would never want, that most could never do, let alone do it well.

  He’d even sent a picture of the team, one she’d kept, because the tall man with the dark hair and the dark eyes seemed to be looking right at her.

  “He talked about the team. And you. But that’s not what I’m referring to,” she said. And suddenly, for the first time that night, she was nervous. She hadn’t had enough to drink that the fear had left her, even though that had been her plan. “I know you wrote those last letters.”

  Mac had, no doubt, been prepared to deny that, been instructed to. A direct order that would never see paper. He’d most likely figured that he hadn’t fooled her anyway, so kept the letters brief and steered away from personal topics. But she’d continued answering him. It had felt right.

  “I didn’t know at first,” she said. “At first, I assumed that David was tired, rushed, writing in the dark. His handwriting was only a step above unintelligible most of the time.”

  “I don’t take that as a compliment,” he muttered.

  “It’s not. And by the third letter, I knew. The way I saw it, David was killed three to four months earlier than the official documents said.”

  Mac
didn’t say a word, wasn’t allowed to confirm or deny anything. But she hadn’t been looking for him to tell her that she was right.

  “David talked about you a lot. Told us you were a writer,” he trailed off.

  “Did you have to write to me? I mean, was that all part of the mission? The cover-up?”

  “No.”

  That was the truth. In fact, it would’ve been better if he’d cut all contact after David had been killed. Mail to and from their location was unreliable at best, and no one would’ve thought anything about letters possibly being lost.

  “Your letters made me smile, Jenny. And that wasn’t easy to do, considering the hellhole I’d been living in for six months.” He paused. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Just kiss me,” she said.

  “Dammit, you cannot just bring all this up and expect me to forget it now.”

  “But I do want to forget it. I came here looking for something, and I got it.” She touched his cheek, rubbed down the chiseled profile and traced his full lips with the pad of her thumb.

  “Suppose I turned out to be a jerk?”

  “Then I wouldn’t be asking you to kiss me.”

  Rina had once asked if there was more to the story—her niece figured that what she’d discovered had been terrible enough, and Jenny wasn’t planning on disagreeing with her. Yes, there was more to the story. But her sister, and Rina, didn’t need to know that part. Mac never told her exactly what happened out there on that horrible day, but she took it on trust that if Mac could’ve done anything to save David, to protect him further, he would’ve.

  Some things you just had to take on faith.

  16

  CASH HAD LEFT his front door open—he’d never bothered to switch out the screen for the storm door and for a night in early October, after getting back from a long run and a warm shower, the air felt good on his skin. He heard a car pull up, glanced to see a cab pulling away and a few seconds later, Rina was at his door.