"You're saying if I don't... what? Cry at your feet or cut open my heart for you, then we can't be together?" His chest pumped with each ragged—angry?—breath. "That's not who I am and you know it."
Frustration frothed higher along with disappointment. She'd been so hopeful with the flowers and his opening up at least a little. "Lucas, I just want y—"
He stood abruptly, scattering petals over the floor, much like her fragmented thoughts as she scrambled to put the pieces of her world together again.
"You should be relaxing. That's what tonight was supposed to have been about for you. We have time to work through the rest." He didn't dodge looking at her, but he may as well have. His face blanked, the expressionless commander in place again, taking control and shutting out the world—including her. "I need to check on scheduling for tomorrow night's flight out."
Pivoting on his heel, he tugged open the door and left.
That was it? He'd walked out? She bit back the urge to jerk open the door and shout for him to march his fine-looking self back into their room.
Wouldn't that surprise his flyers?
Except he was right that they had plenty of time to talk later. A whole life of days now.
Why push this hard to clarify things between them, rather than simply reveling in their reunion? But she couldn't escape the now-or-never sensation. Here, they were on an even footing of sorts.
Once they landed in the States, she would need so much from him while acclimating to a new country, re-learning to make choices, wiser ones this time. Even looking into what Tomas had said about professional help to "decompress." If she didn't settle things with Lucas now, how long would it be before she had another chance to be his partner? Something she wanted with every fiber of her adult soul.
Something he deserved. He would have needs, too, during this transition.
She knelt on the floor, sweeping her hand over the scattered petals as if to rebuild the evening and handle things better this time. She sifted the scented bits between her fingers, such tiny scraps to give off such a potent scent.
The whimsical notion tugged at her. She almost discarded it as a frivolous bit of tripe the old Sara would have considered. Instead the thought flowered inside her mind—even her heart—all those little red satiny bits coming together.
She'd been so clueless. She'd accused Lucas of expecting perfection from himself, when she had been expecting the same from him. He was such a capable man of huge accomplishments, she had been looking for the same from him on the emotional front.
Except he wasn't invulnerable after all. Reaching out was difficult for him, something he rarely did and therefore she should have paid far more attention to the smaller details when he did. Spreading rose petals on the bed for her in a tender romantic gesture would have been tougher for him than whacking through a hazardous jungle or leading a squadron.
She plopped onto her bottom, cradled the petals in her cupped hands and knew she wasn't being whimsical or silly in the least to think she held Lucas's heart.
Wasn't that an earthshaking, amazing realization? The reality of it rocked her until she could have sworn the floorboards moved beneath her.
Again?
She inched to the side to stare at the pine slats in the dim moonlight, her brain refusing to process what she saw. Boards slid aside, a man emerging, large, lethal.
Machine gun aimed.
Ramon had come for her, with a hardened glint in his eyes that shone through even the dark.
"You seem very comfortable here, Sarafina, not at all an unwilling prisoner." He jacked the weapon up higher. "Make a sound and I will shoot your brains all over Lucia."
Chapter 15
Lucas strode down the hall away from his room, away from Sara and the guards posted at her door and window. For the first time in his life, he had no idea where to go next. He'd always had a goal along with a plan for how to achieve it.
Well, he had the goal—plant a ring on Sara's hand. But he had no idea how to go about making that happen. So he'd made tracks for the door when her questions grew more pointed.
He could probably persuade her to stay at his house for Lucia's sake. Except, damn it all, he wanted her to move in for him.
Given his rotten mood, he should level out before attempting to make his case. Better to review tomorrow night's flight plan again.
The dingy hall echoed with his boot steps, all the doors closed except for one open slightly, a slice of light knifing across the floor. He paused outside, finding Carson Hunt alone with a cup of coffee and his laptop on the desk. Lucas rapped his knuckles on the molding frame, not totally sure why, but unwilling to keep walking.
Hunt glanced up. "Oh, hello, sir. Is something wrong?"
"Does something have to be wrong for me to speak with you?" An odd notion he'd never noticed before, but come to think of it, he rarely shot the breeze. Lucas leaned a shoulder against the frame. "Where's everyone?"