The Colonel's Widow?

But he’d come to know her well in the past six years. Irina Castle was no doe in headlights. In about five seconds that wild-eyed fear was going to change to fury, and woe to anyone who stepped into the path of her storm.

Woe to him.

“Irina.” His throat was scratchy and sore, his voice hoarse from disuse. He’d talked more today than he had in two years. He cleared his throat. “I’m not—”

“What is going on?” She stiffened her back and tucked her chin. Her eyes narrowed and the spark he’d been waiting for flashed in them. She eased sideways. Again.

A weak thrill fluttered in his chest. If he could’ve remembered what muscles to use to smile, he would have.

She was doing exactly what he’d expected her to do. She was edging toward the closest weapon—a Glock .23, hidden in a shelf of dog-eared paperbacks opposite the fireplace.

He pushed back his open shirt and slid his weapon from the paddle holster in his waistband. He held it up. “Here,” he said, flipping the Sig Sauer’s handle out. “Take mine.”

He bent down and slid it across the red oak floor toward her, then straightened and leaned against the mantel, doing his damnedest to appear nonchalant.

She picked up the gun, never taking her eyes off him. The blanket slipped off her shoulders, and Rook saw her perfectly shaped breasts beneath a thin covering of silk. He gritted his teeth as his body reacted to the familiar, lush curves and hollows he saw, and those he knew only from memory. Her beautiful body, which he’d yearned for every night during the past two years.

Was that the red silk gown and robe she’d bought for their yachting cruise in the Mediterranean? He’d never gotten to see it on her.

He’d died on that trip. As the thought formed in his head, the heat in his groin dissipated.

Clutching the Sig, Irina pointed it at him and straightened. One shoulder of the robe slid down her arm. She didn’t notice.

Her delicate shoulder was made more vulnerable, more fragile looking by the little bump of bone that interrupted its curve. Her skin stretched across it, appearing translucent. He knew that bump, and the matching one on the other side. He knew how it felt, how it tasted. Like clean, white linen. Like her.

Rook winced inwardly and lifted his gaze to her face. Her gaze met his with faint horror, as if he were a stranger ogling her and she could read his thoughts.

Suddenly, a different kind of sparkle lit her eyes, and it twisted his heart painfully.

He knew better than anyone that Irina never cried. And he knew why. That he’d caused the tears that reflected the firelight gouged another chunk from his heart.

She took a deep breath, lifted her chin and, miraculously, the dampness in her eyes disappeared.

“So tell me. What is the big emergency?” she asked tonelessly.

“What?”

“Obviously, you never planned to—” she paused briefly “—to come back here. But something has happened. Something involving me. Something you couldn’t handle any other way.”

She wrapped her left hand around her right to support the weight of the gun. “You were never fond of theatrics, so I have to assume that it is urgent, or you wouldn’t have sneaked me out here in the dead of night. So get to it.”

Rook nodded. That’s my girl.

She was doing everything she could to stay in control. It was one of the things he loved about her. That need to keep everything steady in an unsteady world. It was embedded into the core of steel that had drawn him to her the first time he’d seen her. But that steel core made her slow to trust.

And if anyone ever betrayed her…

If he could hate himself any more than he already did, he would. But his self-loathing was maxed out. There was no way he could explain to her why he’d done what he had.

Hell, he’d been second-guessing his decision for two years.

“Is it because of what happened to Matt and Deke? I’m sure Deke has briefed you—” Her voice cracked.

“Deke didn’t know,” he said quickly. “Not for sure. Not until yesterday morning. Don’t blame him.”

“No. I do not blame him. I blame you.” The staccato words were coated with frost. “Spare me the explanations. Just get to the point.”

“Why don’t you sit down—”

“Get. To. The. Point!”

Rook pushed his hands through his hair and wiped his face. He still wasn’t used to his naked cheeks and chin. The beard—his mask—had been a part of him for the past two years. He lifted his gaze to Irina’s. Her eyes were as hard and opaque as turquoise.

“Novus Ordo is after you.”

“Da,” she said, then, “Yes. That I know.”

“When you stopped looking for me, and called Matt back to Wyoming, it alerted him. Deke was right about—”

“About Novus acting on the theory that I stopped because I had found you,” she fired back at him in a rapid staccato. “Not because I ran out of money or gave up. How silly of me. I waste so much time and money looking for you when I could have—” her voice broke and she laughed sharply, the sound like breaking glass. “You should tell me something I do not know.”

“Fine. But I’m going to sit down. You stand there if you want.” Rook dropped into a worn leather chair that smelled like oil and pipe smoke. It had been his dad’s.

He couldn’t believe how shaky he was. How unsure. He didn’t remember ever feeling this way before. Back when he’d made the decision to fake his death to stop Novus Ordo from targeting Irina, he’d felt like his life was spiraling out of control.

But this uncertainty was new—born of lies and deception, of stealth and secrecy and living in exile.

He’d been alone too long. In the past two years he’d barely spoken a word to another person. He’d spent all his time studying and searching for his enemy. The world’s most dangerous terrorist, Novus Ordo.

He feared he might never feel human again, now that he’d lived inside himself for so long. He’d hoped to find a way to keep up with her, to make sure she was all right.

But by the time he was healed, he knew if he saw her he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.

And if he didn’t stay away from her, she could die.

When he looked up, she hadn’t moved, although the gun barrel had tilted downward. Her face was still expressionless, but her body was rigid—so tense he was afraid her bones might break.

“You said you know Novus Ordo is after you. Do you understand why?”

Irina’s throat moved as she swallowed. “I understand that it has to do with you. That secret mission to save the senator’s son, before you left the Air Force.” She took a shaky breath. “When you rescued Deke.” Then she shot him a look of pure suspicion. “Not that you ever told me anything about it.”

“Do you know why Novus wants me?”

She shrugged and her arms dropped. The Sig slid from her fingers and hit the floor with a thud. “You saw him.”

He nodded wearily. “Apparently I’m the only person in two hemispheres, other than his trusted inner circle, who’s ever seen him without his mask.”

“Why didn’t you kill him then, when you had the chance?”

He shrugged without lifting his head. “We’ve been through this. I was out of ammo. I was sure I was a dead man.”

Irina moaned audibly. “But now, you’re not the only one who knows what he looks like. The CIA has the drawing. Why can’t they figure out who he is? Find him? Kill him?”

“Believe me, Irina, if it were that simple—”

“No!” She shook her head, and the clip that had been holding her hair slipped free and clattered to the floor. Waves of shimmering gold fell over her shoulders.

He swallowed against the lump that suddenly rose in his throat.

“No,” she repeated. “Believing you is something I will never do again.”

Rook slammed his fist down on the arm of his leather chair. “Then what do you want from me?” he yelled.

Too late, he realized he’d done what he always did when backed into a corner. He’d turned a weak defense into a strong offense.

And this time he’d aimed it at his wife. His wife. The one person in the world who least deserved it. Who had never deserved what loving him had put her through.

She winced, then lifted her chin. “I want the truth. But, as I am sure you can understand, I’m a little shy right now.”

Gun-shy, he almost said, but he bit his tongue. She’d always laughed when he’d correct her English. She wouldn’t appreciate it now.

“Why don’t you ask the questions, and I’ll answer them.”

“Truthfully?”

Rook growled and rubbed his aching jaw. The muscles there and in his neck throbbed with tension.

“Did you plan all this?” she snapped.

He looked up at her from beneath his brows. “All what?”

Irina let fly a string of Russian that Rook was sure would have shocked her father, were he still alive.

“Sorry,” he muttered, feeling mean and cornered and exposed. “I planned to die. It was the only choice I had—”

He clenched his jaw and pressed his lips together. No. She didn’t deserve excuses.

He propped his forearms on his knees and nodded, looking down at the floor.

“If you planned the whole thing, then who did you hire to shoot you?”

He bent his head and squeezed his temples between his palms. He was tired. He was frustrated. He ached with the need to pull her into his arms. Just long enough to remind himself that he was a human being. That he was alive.

He hadn’t felt anything in so long, he’d begun to wonder if he ever would.

“Rook? Who shot you?”

Her voice sizzled with venom. She hated him for what he’d done to her. And she had every right.

His very presence here put her in danger—her and everyone else involved with Black Hills Search and Rescue. That thought sent a shard of fear through his chest.

No. He couldn’t afford to feel anything—not until all this was over. If he let his emotions get in the way, the consequences would be too great to bear.

He’d already pushed Irina too far. Answering the question she’d asked would sever the last frayed thread that bound them together. And he wasn’t sure he could survive if that thread broke.

He took a long breath. “Deke.”

Irina gasped audibly. “What?”

He lifted his head and met her shocked gaze. “You heard me,” he muttered.

“D-deke?” she stammered.

As she spoke, the door from the kitchen opened.

“Deke shot you?” Her voice was shrill with shock.

“Oh, crap,” Deke said.

IRINA MET the wary gaze of her husband’s best friend. She shook her head back and forth—back and forth, while her stomach churned with nausea.

“I don’t understand…” she whispered. Her throat was too tight, her chest too constricted, to speak any louder.

“Don’t blame him,” Rook said, standing.

He might as well have been in a different room. She barely heard him. All she could do was stare at Deke, who had been there for her, who had grieved with her, who had kept Black Hills Search and Rescue going and had taken care of her during the dark time since her husband’s death.

“Deke? You—?”

“Irina, he was only following—” Rook started.

“Shut up!” She swiped a hand through the air in his general direction without looking at him.

Deke’s tanned faced turned a sickly green. He opened his mouth, closed it, ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Irina—”

“You shot him? You shot Rook? It was you?” Saying it didn’t make it any more real. In fact, it confused her more. The memory of those awful seconds washed over her like a volcanic wind. For that instant she was back there, on the deck of their yacht, feeling the downdraft from the helicopter, gripping Rook’s arm as she asked him why it was flying so close.

“But that’s impossible. The shot—it came from a helicopter. He was—” She turned her head to look at Rook. “You were hit in the chest. All that blood…” She had to force air past her constricted throat.

“It was so awful. How could you not tell me, Deke?”

“It was…a matter of national security—” Deke started.

“He was following my orders. He didn’t know I was still alive until he contacted a prearranged number three days ago.”

Irina’s head was spinning. Too much information. “But I saw the bullet hit you. It made a little puff.” She gestured with her fingers. “F-fibers from your shirt, I think. Then blood—your blood—spattered on my blouse. You fell into the water.” She pressed her palms to her temples. “Were you wearing a bulletproof vest? No, you couldn’t have been. We’d just…” Her voice trailed off as more memories flashed across her vision.

They’d made love. She’d watched him dress afterward. All at once she realized that was the origin of her recurring dream.

They’d made love and then he’d been shot.

Killed.

“I watched you die,” she whispered. Then suddenly the floor tilted and her vision turned dark. Strong arms enveloped her.

Rook’s arms. But no. It couldn’t be. Rook was dead.

She came awake as he laid her gently on the sofa. She didn’t open her eyes, afraid the room would tilt again. Afraid her world would turn right-side up again and Rook would be gone.

The next thing she was aware of was Deke’s voice.

“—can’t believe you’re here in the flesh. But I gotta say, I’d like to strangle you right now. You could have let me know you were alive.”

“After all that planning, it was too risky to take a chance like that. What happened to your arm?”

Their words confirmed what Rook had said. The two men, who’d been best friends and oath brothers since childhood, really hadn’t spoken in two years. She could tell from Deke’s voice that he’d feared he’d killed his best friend.

At least Deke hadn’t betrayed her—not like her husband had.

“This? It’s just a scratch, courtesy of a costume cowboy called Frank James, who insisted he wasn’t working for Novus.”

“It’s wrapped up like a mummy. Looks like a little more than a scratch.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. More than I can say for your widow. Think she’s okay?”

“I think so. But look at her. She’s so pale, so scared. Dear God, I never meant to hurt her.”

“Well, you did.”

“You think I don’t know that? If there had been any other way—”

“You know what, man? Just stop. I had to watch her, knowing the whole time what I’d done—what I’d let you do. I’ve learned a lot in the past two years. And even more in the past few days. One thing I can tell you for sure, it may take me the rest of my natural life to make up to Mindy for everything I put her through in the past. But I’ll do it. And I won’t waste time whining that there was nothing else I could do.” Deke’s voice was low, but Irina heard the disgust and anger behind his words.

Cloth squeaked against leather as Rook stood up. “You got anything else to say, Cunningham? Because if you do, maybe we should go outside. I’d rather my wife not be any more upset than she already is.”

“Now you’re blaming me for upsetting her? You arrogant—”

Their argument was fast escalating into a fight. Irina sat up, a lot more quickly than she should have. Stars flared at the edge of her vision. She pushed her hair out of her face.

Both men turned toward her. She could see Deke’s sheepish expression and Rook’s worried gaze through the fading starbursts.

“Hey, Irina.” Deke’s voice softened into gentleness. “Are you okay?”

“Not even near,” she muttered.

“Stay still. Rest. Maybe you can even sleep for a while,” Rook said.

She laughed. “Sleep? I don’t know what sleep is. Not for two years. My brain is speeding ninety miles an hour. There are so many questions that I don’t know where to start.”

His gaze faltered.

“Okay. Answer this one. Why did Deke bring me here?”

Deke answered her. “Because he doesn’t want you out of our sight for even one second.”

She shook her head and smiled sadly. “No. That doesn’t explain it. Why now? I’ve been out of your sight for two years—” She stopped. “Or have I? Don’t tell me you have watched me all this time.” Her stomach churned. “I think I may be sick.”

“I swear, this is the first time I’ve set foot in the U.S. I couldn’t chance being spotted.”

She turned to Deke. “So how did you find him?”

Deke’s gaze slid past her to Rook. “I’ll let you field that one. I’m going to go take a look around outside—”

“No!”

Deke and Rook jumped.

She swallowed. Her vehemence surprised even herself. “No. You stay right here, Deke. You’re involved in this, too.”

Deke looked down at the toe of his boot.

Rook rubbed a hand across his face. Despite her hurt and anger, Irina’s heart squeezed at the soul-deep weariness etched there.

“I set up a message service,” he said flatly. “The fees are paid automatically on a yearly basis by electronic withdrawal from a bank in the Caymans. I used the name Kenneth Raven.”

She stared at him. “A bank—” How had she been married to him and not known him at all?

“So who called you on this message service? I thought Deke did not know you were alive. You said nobody knew.”

“That’s right. Nobody. Deke had the number, but he wasn’t to call it unless it was a life-or-death situation.”

“You arranged your assassination. You planned for a contingency in case you needed—or wanted—to return to life. You left your sister, your wife, all your friends and family, to think you were dead.” Irina’s stomach was still churning. Her head was spinning. “We had a funeral. We grieved for you. And the whole time you were laughing at us.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t laughing.”

Was she seeing things, or were his eyes brighter than they’d been a few seconds ago? She’d never seen Rook Castle cry before. Still, even if those were tears, it didn’t matter. It was too late for tears, too late for apologies.

It was too late.

An awful thought occurred to her. “What about Jennie? Is she all right?”

He nodded without looking at her. “I hired a bodyguard for Jennie, using the Cayman Islands account. She has no idea.”

“So you have decided the best thing for everybody, haven’t you?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

She lifted her chin. “Just so I know, how long had you been planning all this?”

“Rina, it wasn’t like that—”

“How…long?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Deke squeeze his eyes closed.

Rook looked away and shrugged. “Six months. Maybe eight.”

A short, sharp laugh burst from her throat. “Eight months. You lived with me, you made love to me, and all the time you were planning to—? Dear God, who are you?”

She stood and caught the arm of the sofa to steady herself. Then she glared at the man she’d married in a fever six years ago. “I do not know you at all.”

Rook spread his hands. “Trust me, it’ll all make more sense once you’ve had some rest. It’s a lot for you to take in right now—”

“A lot to take in? You think?” She heard her voice rising in pitch. “But, yes, of course. I am sure I’ll feel much better once I take a nap.”

Deke reached out a hand, as if to soothe her, but she jerked away. “No. Don’t touch me.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle and turned back to Rook. “Where have you been? Who have you been in touch with?”

“Nobody. Irina, you need to calm down.”

“You have no right to tell me what I need to do. You gave that up when you let me think you were dead.” She held up her hands, palms out. “I can’t—I cannot take any more. I’m going to make tea.”

“Stay there. I’ll make it for you,” Deke said.

“No,” she snapped. She couldn’t be alone with Rook. She didn’t know what she would do—or say. “I think I’ll let you two talk. It’s pretty obvious you need to.”

She glared at Deke. “Maybe you can get some real answers out of him.”

She took a cautious step, making sure her legs weren’t going to collapse, then headed to the kitchen, with Rook’s voice following her.

“Use the light over the stove. Don’t turn on the overheads.”

“Fine. Fine. No problem,” she muttered. “Like I have no sense to figure that out.”

She twisted her hair up and anchored it with a rubber band from a kitchen drawer, then pulled the tea canister toward her, hoping there was at least one tea bag. She opened the lid.

“Jasmine,” she whispered. Her favorite. She dug the little package out and opened it.

She put the kettle on the stove eye and held the tea bag to her nose. The scent hurtled her back in time.

She and Rook had come up here a couple of weeks before the fateful trip to the Mediterranean. Just the two of them.

She’d brought up the idea of having a baby—again. And again, like always, he’d sidetracked her with jasmine tea and hot, passionate lovemaking. He’d never talked about having children. At least now she understood why.

She had to blink away tears before she could pour the hot water into her mug. Then she turned out the light over the stove and stood at the kitchen window in the dark, waiting for the tea to steep. In the distance, thunder rolled lazily and a pale flash of lightning lit the sky.

Before Rook, she’d always been afraid of thunder-storms. They reminded her of the guns and bombs from her childhood in the former Soviet Union. Thunderstorms had frightened her. But ever since she’d married Rook, she’d learned to love them.

He liked to lie in bed with the windows open, summer or winter, spring shower or gale-force winds, and watch the lightning and listen to the sounds of rain and thunder.

For her, lying in his arms, safe and secure in the knowledge that he would never let anything happen to her, was the ultimate definition of safety.

But he’d left her alone—alone with the storms and the memories and the unrelenting grief.

She swiped her fingers under her eyes and set the tea bag aside. Then she wrapped her hands around the warm mug and sipped, sighing as the hot liquid slid down her throat to soothe her insides.

She closed her eyes. She’d spent the past two years living in a nightmare. Every night, she’d prayed she would wake up and find Rook beside her, safe and sound. Every morning, she’d woken with her prayer unanswered.

Now he was here, but she still didn’t feel like her prayers had been answered.

This felt like the nightmare. The months of sleepless nights, of the recurring dream of loving him and then losing him, had become her reality.

Thunder rumbled again, closer this time. Irina’s eyes flew open. A lightning flash illuminated the dense woods on the east side of the cabin and a deafening clap of thunder made her nearly spill her tea.

Then something moved—a shadow darker than the trees.

She froze, holding her breath as the thunder continued to roar. She waited for the next flash of lightning. It didn’t take long.

The flare spotlighted a creature slinking along the edge of the woods. No. Not a creature. Not some thing.

Someone. And he was carrying a gun.

Chapter Three

Irina’s breath caught. There was someone outside the cabin, and he was carrying a weapon—maybe a rifle.

Setting down her mug, she moved swiftly toward the living room.

Rook and Deke were still arguing.

“—surprised he hasn’t tried to get to Rina before now,” Rook was saying.

“Son of a—That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He has.” Deke’s voice rose. “You don’t get it. The level of security I’ve got around her—she might as well be the First Lady. I told you I’d take care of her!”

“Of course I get it. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It’s only been two weeks since she called off the search. Fifteen days! And he’s already managed to send a man after Matt and put a plan into place to kidnap Mindy. That’s why I knew I had to call you. He was obviously watching Matt. He knew the instant Irina called him. Hell, he knew before she got in touch with Matt. I’m thinking Novus knew she was calling off the search as soon as we did.”