Always a Warrior(54)
He scowled fiercely at her sleeping form. Hate and contempt had blazed in her eyes when she woke on that cot, when she looked at him. But her lovemaking just now, in this very room, had been frantic and urgent, as though time was running out. Adrenaline rush, he wondered. She had still looked at him with love in her eyes. But this time, she made no effort to say the words.
Had he simply seen what he wanted to see?
He scowled again, disgusted with his useless thoughts. It didn’t matter anyway. Neither love nor hate fit in his life. No way, he thought firmly. There was no room in his volatile life for an emotional entanglement. No matter how well they meshed physically, their hearts did not belong together. He was better off without her. She was certainly better off without him. He had allowed old notions, old wants and needs, to resurface. He dragged his gaze from her and stared at the ceiling until he buried all of those old parts of the Great American Dream he had once wanted. He could never have them.
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
79
Chapter Eight
Three days later, Damien drove silently on eastbound interstate ten toward Wilcox, Arizona. He concentrated on the road while Laurie stared out the window wanting him to say something, anything. She needed to hear his voice. She remembered all of his apologies. What exactly did he regret? Making love to her? Caring even a little for her? All of the above? Her heart twisted at the thought.
She knew she had made a monumental mistake, but she could not convince herself to be sorry she had made love with him. Neither did she attempt to delude herself anything might come of it. After all, he had used her like a tool. She did not want to know if their relationship, if it could be called that, was part of his deception. She cast him a surreptitious glance. Just the sight of him scrambled her pulse.
Damien McAllister—consummate Navy SEAL, highly trained, deadly, cool and professional—but there was nothing personal. He focused on the road. Fierce longing, physical and emotional, turned her blood sluggish.
Despite her admittedly feeble protest, he had insisted on taking her home after the helicopter returned for them. She had endured constant questions for several hours, and then spent the night alone in an admittedly very nice hotel room. She had lain awake until nearly dawn but Damien had not come to her. She wanted just a little more time with him. Damien had turned the computer disks over to his superiors and endured his own much more extensive debriefing. And he still had not visited or even called her at the hotel until it was time to leave.
Instead of coming to her room, he called from the hotel lobby. Her heart heavy, hiding her eyes behind cheap sunglasses, she met him at the front entrance. They took a taxi to the airport, the entire width of the back seat between them. Wanting just a few more hours with him, even in rigid silence, she let him override her protests. He had taken her from her home and insisted on returning her to it.
He flew with her to Tucson then rented a vehicle at his own expense to drive her to Wilcox. During the past hour he had not said a single word to her. Even sitting beside him, she felt utterly cold and alone—not just ignored, but alone. She forced her gaze from him to the windshield.
“Where is my father?” she demanded, breaking the tedious, painful silence.
“In custody—in one piece.” His succinct tone implied he would have preferred several pieces.
“Can I see him?” She had badgered officials for two days for permission to see her father but to no avail.
“He’s still being interrogated,” Damien replied evasively.
“Oh,” she murmured then hesitated. After a moment of indecision, she continued softly.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” he demanded sharply.
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
80
“Helping us, protecting Stacy and keeping her out of danger,” Laurie clarified, confused and hurt by the thread of cold steel in his voice.
“It was my job,” he shot back.
“Was making love to me also your job?” she countered tartly, stung.
That abrupt cold dismissal of her and everything they had shared stung deep. The fierce ache in her heart nearly broke her and she fell back on temper. Tears welled in her eyes but she made no effort to wipe them away. Nor did she blink them back.
Damien expelled a harsh breath, pulled the car off the road, and switched off the engine.
They were now parked on the highway off-ramp leading into Wilcox. Laurie turned her head slightly, eyeing him warily through tear-filled eyes. He glared through the windshield, his fingers curled tight around the steering wheel.
“I'm sorry,” he said tonelessly. “I didn’t promise anything.”