Fully Engaged (Wingmen Warriors 12)

“You were denied your closure,” he offered with an insight she hadn’t expected.

“That’s quite a perceptive comment, especially for a man.”

“For a man? And that’s quite a sexist remark, lady.”

“I apologize.” Yipes. Open mouth, insert foot. “I have to confess I haven’t had much experience with men in touch with their emotions.”

“All right, I’ll ’fess up. They made me go through all sorts of brain-probe sessions during rehab. I’m full of cool, psychologically sensitive catch phrases.”

“Don’t be flip about this, please. It feels good to have you say something like that, to have someone understand, because, you’re right.” She could get used to having someone like Rick around. “I didn’t get my closure with the jerk who held me hostage. I may have knocked him out and run away, but I wanted to kick the crap out of him for how helpless he made me feel.”

It had been like a return to the hospital, at the mercy of cancer, not knowing if she would live or die, her options of fighting back limited. A totally hellish trot down memory boulevard.

Her hand fell to rest on his thigh. “We military types don’t deal well with the whole helpless thing.”

They shared a silent understanding, a link.

She could see that, all sensitivity aside, he wouldn’t outright admit how much it bothered him. So she would say the words for him.

“It’s a horrible experience losing control that way. But in a really strange, twisted way, it was also a liberating experience because I found my strength again.” She held up her hand. “No. Wait. I learned to trust my strength. I would wish that for you.”

“Are you deliberately being dense or you just slow today? We’re in two different situations. I’m not going to have my old life back.”

“You’ll build a new one.”

Mr. Sensitivity was long gone. Rick looked downright pissed. “How would you have felt if someone said that to you?”

“Just because I can still fly an airplane doesn’t mean I’m the same person. I lost a part of myself during that process.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. I know you went through hell and you’re an amazing woman to have come back. But that’s you and this is me. I’m not comfortable with the preaching. So if you value our roomie status, we need to end this conversation.”

“That’s quite a long speech for a man.”

“Then take it to heart.” He shoved to his feet, his eyes already on his bed and apparently leaving her to hers. “I must really mean it.”

How strange that just when she realized she didn’t want her space after all, Rick decided to rebuild his walls again.

Even a year later as he lay in the comfort of his hotel bed in historic downtown Charleston, Ramon Chavez could still taste the mud of the collapsed tunnel pummeling him. Even with the luxury of the high-class accommodations he’d sprung for, he couldn’t rid himself of the suffocating stench of fear as he’d clawed his way through to daylight. Having people think he’d died proved quite beneficial, however. He could move around with stealth to gain his revenge on those who’d caused him such pain.

One person in particular topped his list, a woman who had emasculated him, stolen his honor by taking him down in a fight. Honor, his manliness, those were everything to him and until he killed Nola Seabrook, he couldn’t regain his true self.

Once Rick DeMassi’s daughter had arrived, Ramon thought he would have a new tool to torture them, then…poof. They’d disappeared. His frustration had grown since that Rick had lost him with his fancy driving techniques. Where were they while he cooled his heels?

Ramon clicked off the remote control and tossed it aside onto the end table. He still couldn’t believe his bad luck in seeing the teenage girl from the diner in Texas show up here. What if she remembered him? If she saw him here and recalled him from before, the mention could set off alarms to Nola and her friend. Time to lie low and quit trying to follow them around.

He snorted. A convenient plan since he’d lost them anyway.

Still, he could set some additional traps in place for the final showdown, because eventually, they would have to return home. And when they did he would be ready for Nola.

This time away had actually played right into his hands.

Ramon grabbed the other pillow and stuffed it under his head, simply for comfort, not because his body nearing sixty years old was starting to creak. He kept in prime condition with workouts in the hotel gym and swimming pool.

He wouldn’t underestimate Nola as he had in South America. She was a strong woman. This time, he would weaken his opponent. He didn’t know where they were now, but he did know—thanks to his skill at charming a secretary in Nola Seabrook’s squadron—that her unit had planned a Thanksgiving weekend party at a local hangout, Beachcombers Bar and Grill. He only needed to poison Nola with a mild dose, just enough to slow her and dip the odds in his favor so she couldn’t fight back so fiercely.

This time, he would accept nothing but total victory. And he would take down anyone who stood with her.

Chapter 13