Daddy to the Rescue Page 7

  “There’re a few nutcases out there, people who believe their privacy will be violated.” She shrugged. “But kill me to stop the government from installing my program in every airport in the country? I don’t think so.”

  “Logan believes they will try again.”

  Oh God.

  She’d been so busy surviving, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. But since the thief hadn’t gotten her program in the computer bag the pilot had stolen, and since they’d come up empty on the hard drive at her house, they might come looking for her computer on the crashed aircraft. When they didn’t find her body or her computer, they’d know she had survived. And would try again.

  Abby wasn’t safe. Blood rushed from her face and she swayed, slightly faint.

  Kirk reached out a hand to steady her. “Take it easy. You have lots of help. Logan’s team are experts in—”

  “How do you know you can trust him?” Her heart raced, and suddenly Kirk’s arrival seemed too timely, too suspicious.

  Breathe, she told herself. If Logan was a bad guy, Kirk wasn’t in on the deception. True blue to his core, he never lied, and it simply wasn’t in him to make any choice except the right one. They may have had marital troubles, but she could always count on him when he finally showed up. Their problem had been the long absences combined with her worries over his dangerous missions. However, when he had been around, he was dependable, honest and caring. The kind of man who helped little old ladies across the street. The kind of man who would stay awake all night nursing a sick puppy. A hero. His expertise had saved many lives—his commanding officers had never failed to tell her about his accomplishments with pride.

  But had Logan Kincaid conned Kirk?

  “Excuse me?” Kirk looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Logan hired me to find you.”

  “Maybe he wants the program.”

  “I don’t think so. His reputation is impeccable. And he works for our government.”

  Sara knew all too well how one arm of the government might not approve of what another arm was doing. But she didn’t want to argue with Kirk, who believed in the chain of command, in following orders, in having faith in one’s superiors.

  “You checked Logan out?”

  “I didn’t have time. I was worried about you. And Abby.” Kirk hesitated, and a glimmer of pain shone in his eyes before he looked away. “How come you never told me about her?”

  “What?” She glared at him. She’d spent months hating him for rejecting his daughter, and now he claimed that he’d never known about Abby? Frustration and fury made her raise her voice. “Were you too busy to read my letters?”

  “Your letters were the highlight of my days.”

  Maybe her close call with death made saying what she felt easier. Maybe she simply was worn down from her ordeal. She couldn’t keep the pain from pouring out. Didn’t try to rein in her sarcasm. “Yeah, you missed me so much that you came back to live with me.”

  He flinched and withdrew his hand from her shoulder. “I read every letter at least ten times. You know that.”

  She did know. He’d told her often how much the daily letters had meant to him, how he looked forward to hearing about her life, how her words kept them close when they weren’t together. That’s why she’d been so hurt when he had never responded. So she’d sent the divorce papers and he’d signed them, and that was the end of their marriage. However often she’d told herself that he was no longer a part of her life, he’d sneaked into her thoughts when she dropped her guard. Like when she’d been hanging upside down on the edge of the cliff. Like during the lonely nights when she remembered how good making love with him had been. Like when she saw his stubborn determination in the child they had made during his last leave. Dealing now with the issues between them sharpened the pain, but maybe once they cleared the air, she could let go of her past and go on with her life.

  “I wrote you about Abby twice.”

  “I didn’t get anything about Abby.”

  “When you didn’t answer—”

  “I didn’t get them,” he insisted, in a voice that reminded her of a soft sheath housing the sharpest of blades.

  “—I figured you didn’t care.” She finished in a rush, wondering if he could ever know how many hours she’d spent wondering why she hadn’t heard from him.

  “You know better.” His eyes flashed anger at her assumption. “When did you send the letters?”

  “Right after your last leave.”

  Right after the condom they’d been using had broken. She hadn’t been in her fertile time of the month, so she had figured she was safe. She’d figured wrong. And had been so happy about the baby, and scared and thrilled to have her at the same time.

  He’d never gotten her letters?

  She’d spent months resenting him for avoiding his responsibilities. Months feeling hurt that he’d rejected their baby.

  “I was in Kuwait. Your letters might have been blown up during the embassy bombing. I should have guessed a few had gone missing, but you weren’t writing regularly then.” Kirk’s voice was choked. “And then the divorce papers came and, soon after that, Gabby got killed.”

  “I’m sorry.” She’d heard about Gabby’s death through the military grapevine. Knew that the two men had been as close as brothers. They’d trained the animals together, put their lives on the line for one another. She hadn’t known Gabby that well, but what she’d known of the man, she’d liked and respected.

  “I resigned my commission, Sara.”

  She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d told her he had suddenly taken up knitting. The U.S. Marine Corps had been such a large part of his life for so long that she had difficulty wrapping her mind around his statement. She almost asked why, and then decided she didn’t want to be that much of a masochist. He hadn’t quit for her. She’d made her feelings about their interminable separations known to him long before she’d accidentally gotten pregnant during his last leave. She’d wanted him to resign. And he had. But he hadn’t done it for her or to keep their marriage together, and that hurt enough to make her turn away from him.

  But in the small space of the snow hut, she couldn’t avoid him any more than she could keep back her emotions. She tried a different tack. “What do you do now?”

  “I train dogs for other handlers.”

  “Drug and bomb sniffers?” She’d named the two most dangerous occupations for dogs and their handlers.

  “I’m training the animals, not going on missions.”

  “But—”

  “I only agreed to take this mission after Logan told me that it was you.”

  He looked so sincere, as if he believed what he’d just told her. She couldn’t allow herself any hope. “You’ll re-up when you get done grieving for Gabby.”

  “I won’t.” She could tell that he knew she didn’t believe him.

  He hesitated slightly, but remained honest as always. “Logan Kincaid has offered me a job with the Shey Group, but I haven’t yet decided whether to accept his offer.”

  “I see.” So maybe he wouldn’t rejoin the military, but if he worked for the Shey Group, he’d still be working in considerable danger. As far as she could see, nothing much had changed.

  “I missed you, Abby. I was hoping you might give us another chance.”

  “I can’t.”

  “And I wanted to see my daughter.”

  “Thanks.” Again she covered her pain with sarcasm. Most men would have been annoyed and left her to stew in an angry silence, but Kirk knew her too damn well. He knew she used a cutting tongue to hide her feelings, and he always reacted calmly, so she added, “And it’s our daughter.”

  “She’s stopped crying.” Kirk grinned. “I think she likes me.”

  Abby tugged on the metal tag of his pocket sleeve. Her tiny fingers couldn’t quite grasp the metal and when they did, she invariably lost her grip.

  “She cries when she’s hungry, tired or hurting. Or when she wants attention.�
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  “What a sensible girl you are.”

  At Kirk’s attention, Abby blossomed, her round cheeks dimpling with a winsome smile. She spoke in a baby voice, “Good girl.”

  “You’re already talking?” He glanced from Abby to Sara and back again. “Are you brilliant like your mom?”

  His statement made Sara uncomfortable. She’d spent too many years of her childhood being called The Brain to want her daughter to be made fun of like that. “Her vocabulary consists of mama, good girl, dog, cat, ball, eat and up. Pepper probably knows more words.”

  Kirk shot her one of those piercing, perceptive looks. “You going to argue with everything I say?”

  “Maybe.” She scowled at him, knowing she needed to keep her anger as a barrier against the pain of seeing him again. Already she had the urge to set aside their differences and forgive him for being the man he was. And it would be the second biggest mistake of her life. She already knew that he never put his family first. He’d made that agonizingly clear. She couldn’t fall under his spell again.

  Sara didn’t like to make the same mistake twice. And Kirk was what he was. A very kind and tender man with a very large heart—with too much room in it. Sara hadn’t wanted to be just one of the people he included in his world; she’d wanted to be his whole world—or, at least, enough of it that she could count on their living together.

  And she definitely didn’t want Abby to become attached to a man who would almost certainly break her heart. Kirk would leave again. As soon as he finished grieving for Gabby, he would re-up, and the Marine Corps would welcome him back like a lost family member who’d come home after a difficult journey.

  Sara had to keep her emotional distance. Kirk was simply too accustomed to handling her; she couldn’t allow him to get close again. Older and wiser since their split, she refused to fall for those tender looks at Abby. She needed to keep in mind that he would leave them again—whether he knew it yet or not.

  She didn’t care how bitchy or ungrateful she sounded. Until they got off this mountain, they would be eating and sleeping in such close quarters that avoiding him would be impossible. If her only defense was her memories of their separations and a sharp tongue, then she’d use the weapons at hand.

  “Dada.” Kirk patted his chest and tried to get Abby to repeat the words. “Dada.”

  Abby stuck her fingers in her mouth. Gently, he pulled them out. “Say ‘Dada’ for me, little girl.”

  “Good girl?”

  “Yes, you’re a very good girl.” He grinned at her. “Now say ‘Dada’.”

  Abby stuck her fingers back in her mouth and ignored him. Smart girl, Sara thought. Don’t fall for that sweet charm like your mother did.

  Chapter Six

  Since Logan had told him about Sara’s plane crash, Kirk had kept his emotions locked down tight. He’d gone into his mission mode—analyzing, assessing, calculating the odds—a mode he’d found useful during dangerous missions where keeping his emotions in check might make the difference between survival and death—not just for him, but for anyone in or near the buildings where he searched for bombs.

  Deep in his heart, he’d never believed Sara and Abby had died. Hope had kept him going. Hope had kept him from losing it after he saw the crashed plane. Hope had had him scaling that cliff in a blizzard. And hope kept back the despair now.

  Since he’d found them alive, in better shape than he could have thought possible, feelings had bombarded him in giant blasts that rocked him to the core. Joy over Sara and Abby’s safety alternated with worry over getting them off the mountain. Just seeing Sara again brought him a kind of peace. Hearing her sharp tongue was better than the silence of his own thoughts over these past horrible months without her. During his last leave, Sara had asked him to quit the military—and he’d refused. But he’d always felt guilty that he hadn’t given her fears more consideration. He’d signed the divorce papers, giving Sara what she’d wanted, still hoping that he could someday change her mind, but obligated to complete his military hitch.

  Then Gabby died—his best friend, his partner. And while Kirk had grieved, he’d thrown himself into work, determined to help root out the terrorists who had planted the bomb that had killed Gabby. Success had eased some of the pain he’d felt over his friend’s death, but hard work brought no relief from the loss of his marriage. Without Sara behind him to give his days meaning, the job he’d loved had become just work. His zest and enthusiasm were gone. Sara was no longer waiting for him to come home. She refused to answer his phone calls. So he’d leased his ranch and simply thrown himself into his day-to-day tasks, unable to think about his future.

  “Are you dead?” He could still hear his partner, Gabby, prodding him as Kirk procrastinated over signing the divorce papers. “It ain’t over until you’re dead.”

  And Kirk was very much alive. Alive enough to feel the pain of rejection and remorse. But his heart was still beating, his thoughts racing.

  Maybe he could change Sara’s mind, but she was the most stubborn woman he’d ever known. She rarely made quick decisions, but pondered over the possibilities until she convinced herself she’d made the correct choice. And once she decided, she seldom wavered. She obviously didn’t want him back in her life, not that she could argue while they remained trapped by the storm on the mountain. To give him a measly glimmer of hope, he’d seen several sparks of the old Sara, a few moments when she hadn’t completely hidden her feelings from him. All her thoughts of him couldn’t be bad—she was too reasonable a person not to remember the good times in their marriage, too.

  He had to make the most of this opportunity, but how? Kirk glanced at his daughter in the crook of his arm and his heart swelled with pride and joy. And more guilt. He should have been at Sara’s side during Abby’s birth. He’d missed the first eight months of Abby’s life. As a baby, she couldn’t possibly know she was supposed to have a daddy to look after her, but soon she would be walking and talking and asking questions. Children needed their fathers.

  Yet Kirk didn’t believe he could convince Sara to take him back for the sake of their daughter. He’d hurt Sara by refusing to quit the Marines. She believed he’d put the needs of his country before their marriage. And he had. More guilt stabbed him, especially when he knew that if he had to make the same decision again, he’d choose Sara first and foremost. He’d learned too late that what they’d had together was rare and precious and that he should have fought much harder to keep her. She was his life, his heart—and he’d lost her.

  Sara had already heard his explanation. The CIA had gotten wind of a rumor that the Embassy in Pakistan would be bombed. They didn’t know when the attack might come or from where. Since Kirk and Gabby were the best handlers in that hemisphere, their mission was to keep the American Embassy in Pakistan safe. Days had stretched into weeks, then months, before the attack finally came—a bomb smuggled inside the embassy. In doing his job, Gabby had sacrificed his life. Kirk had sacrificed his marriage.

  Sara hadn’t believed that waiting for the mission’s completion was an option. She’d told him that after the danger in Pakistan ended, the military would send him to the next hot spot. Because Kirk knew he was good at what he did, he couldn’t disagree with her assumption.

  But he had to try.

  Kirk had never backed down from dangerous or difficult missions. He wouldn’t back down now. She hadn’t believed him when he told her that he had no intention of rejoining the Marine Corps. He’d seen the disbelief in her eyes. And he’d realized that he’d hurt her so badly that she was protecting herself. Words weren’t going to convince her. Actions might. If he had enough time… But time was the one thing he didn’t have. They should be off the mountain tomorrow. And then she would leave him.

  So he had to make the most of this opportunity together. That left him mere hours. Still, he’d go slowly. Sara reminded him of a wounded animal who didn’t trust strangers. That he had caused her wounds sliced him up inside. While he wanted her
to heal and didn’t want to cause more damage, he couldn’t let her go. He loved her too much. So, he had to make this effort or he’d never forgive himself.

  Kirk and Sara took turns feeding the fire, and as the silence between them lengthened, the air crackled with tension. Motherhood hadn’t changed Sara. She still had those model-high cheekbones, fine lips that had once responded so eagerly to his, and a graceful neck that he loved to plant kisses on or knead after she’d spent too many hours at her computer. They’d shared so many good times, and now Sara refused to say anything—and he didn’t know where to start.

  He couldn’t speak to her about what was in his heart because she wasn’t ready to listen. Instead, he stuck to the basics. “We won’t have to walk all the way down the mountain. Just to a clearing about a mile away. When the wind dies down, a chopper will land and fly us out.”

  She nodded, staring into the fire, avoiding his gaze.

  He tried again. “Are you warm enough? Want anything else to eat?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Damn, she could be uncooperative. Words weren’t going to break through her shell. He placed a hand on her ankle. “Sara.”

  She jerked her foot away, her eyes a bit wild. “What?”

  “Do you hate me?” he forced himself to ask, surprised at how violently she’d reacted to a touch through snowpants, jeans and two layers of socks.

  She didn’t answer for so long that he wondered if she was back to ignoring him. But the tension that started in her jaw and ran down her stiff neck and rigid spine clued him in to the fact that she was thinking about his question. That she had to ponder for so long shook him, and when she finally lifted her gaze from the flames and let him see her pain, he went berserk inside.

  She finally had her answer ready. And he already knew he didn’t want to hear it.

  The fire was reflected in her eyes, and the flames emphasized the hollows of her cheekbones, the fullness of her mouth. She’d always had the most adorable mouth, and it always spoke the truth. Sara didn’t play games. A straight-shooter, she rarely even told a white lie.