Who Do You Trust?

Trembling inside as they stood face-to-face, their bodies almost touching, she still managed to face him down. “He might have left me—but you see, he comes back. He calls to see if I’m all right, that I’m still alive, if I need anything. He might be in love with someone else, but he still looks after us, fixing stuff, painting, maintaining the house for me. He helps me with the kids, he’s been like a father to the boys, as well as Jenny. He loves them all.” And she held his heated, angry gaze with her own fury, burning inside her with an intensity hotter and stronger than ever after twelve years. “He still comes back to me—and that alone would earn my loyalty, if nothing else.”

“He comes back to see Jenny. He calls to ease his guilt over leaving you—he knows you won’t take anything from him, with that damn-fool stubborn pride of yours. So he comes back once a fortnight like a conquering hero, plays with the kids, pats you on the head with a few household jobs and gets free sex in gratitude for his sterling efforts.” He was openly furious now. “Which part of that particular form of care turns you on, Lissa? Is that what you call a relationship? Or don’t you care, so long as you’re not alone for those few hours before he goes back to his other lover? You certainly have changed, if you’ve sunk low enough to swallow such a pitiful amount from him.”

She shivered, sick to her stomach with his calculating assessment, as if he’d dissected her soul to find the disease within. But she couldn’t answer him. Even letting him think she was a fool of this caliber was better than his knowing the truth.

He shoved his fists in his pockets, his dark gaze tight and brooding. “I wish I knew why the hell you still love him,” he said quietly. “Why, Lissa? Do you even know?”

Unable to stand any more, she turned away.

Moments later he stalked out the door to the kids.

The sight of him playing with the children, his strong dark face alight with love and laughter, was more than she could take. She stalked out to the market garden, cursing herself for her stupidity. She might have won this round in keeping her secret—but was maintaining her pride intact worth the ultimate cost? Deep inside she knew that, through her damn-fool pride and stubbornness, she’d won one fight, but she might well have lost something far more precious than a battle with the truth: the implicit trust and faith she’d always had with Mitch.

“That’s enough, Burstall. You hear me?”

The young man in uniform stiffened; his strong, square jaw tightened. “It’s the truth, sir. He smuggled the kid in, and it’s not the first time, is it? What happens to the kids after? Are the adoptions legal or bought? What level clearance does McCluskey have, to keep breaking transnational laws and getting away with it? What brass is in on this? This case involves people smuggling at its worst, sir. And you know that yourself, sir!”

A short silence, his commanding officer clearly shifting, on edge. “It’s commendable that you have such eagerness to fulfil your work, Burstall, but this time I’m giving you a direct order—to leave it. Leave Squadron Leader McCluskey alone.”

“But he’s not a Squadron Leader now, is he, sir. He left the Air Force two years ago.”

“How do you—damn it, that’s highly classified information!” his commander barked, half starting up from his chair, his face purpling. “If you’ve been using our computers to break access codes for more dope on McCluskey, I’ll personally see you get a dishonorable discharge from all duties—anywhere! No more investigation into this. You’re not to gain access to check on those adoptions. Are we clear on this, Burstall?”

“High connections giving you pressure, sir?” Damon taunted softly. “Has McCluskey got a politician in his payroll? Seems so—and he’d need one pretty high up to keep this under a tight lid. The immigration minister? The prime minister?” He let his gaze, flat with accusation, speak for him. “It’s harder to fight this filthy trade when those at the top are involved. It makes it hard to keep your own job, doesn’t it, sir?”

The commander’s heavy-jowled face reddened. “That’s enough, Burstall. There’s more going on here than you know or need to know. Leave Squadron Leader McCluskey alone. That’s an order!”

With open reluctance, Damon took the hint, saluted his commanding officer, turned on his heel and left the office.

So he couldn’t use his computer anymore. It was probably safer not to. Anyway, it’d be a snap to find another ex-military hacker with a mercenary soul. It was amazing how easy it was to find people with a grudge against the forces these days.

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