The Tortured Rebel Read online

Jet shrugged. ‘Maybe I fancy an overnight cruise.’

  Becca couldn’t read his expression but he seemed to be watching her carefully. Gauging her reaction. Why? Was he choosing to stay with the ship because of her?

  Because he wanted to be with her?

  Oh … help. She had to look away and the vast expanse of the ocean was soothing after the focus she’d seen in Jet’s eyes.

  The deck was shifting under her feet far more than the roll of the sea could account for. She’d steeled herself to witness his departure. She’d been ready to deal with it and get on with her own life but the rules of this game were changing.

  Or were they? This had something of the intensity of that moment by the fire the night before. If he was choosing to stay because of her, that meant he was acknowledging what hung between them. And, again, he was sidestepping. Changing the subject. Making a joke about being on a cruise ship.

  Now it was her turn. If she said the wrong thing, did she get to slide down some kind of emotional snake? Instinctively, she knew this wasn’t the time to get serious. She was being given a clear direction of what her move should be and that was to make some light comment along the same lines. About the failure of the last port of call to live up to the promise of the brochure perhaps? Or to wonder what the activities officer had in store for the passengers today? If she did that, would she find herself with a ladder to get to the next level of the game?

  But, if this was a game, the stakes were too high. The implications of winning or losing would be with her for the rest of her life.

  This was as huge as the volcano on Tokolamu.

  And just as terrifying.

  She hadn’t expected him to stay.

  But how could he have left like that, with the last image of Becca being her hands clutching the railing of the ship and her choked sob as she struggled for composure?

  As hard as it would be, somehow they had to talk or they might be left with more than Matt’s ghost haunting their lives.

  He wasn’t going to promise anything he couldn’t deliver but, at the very least, he had to let Becca know that he would never forget her. That she had a friend for life and if she was ever in any kind of trouble, he would move heaven and earth if he had to in order to help.

  The prospect of parting on good terms had seemed entirely plausible in the early hours of this morning, when Jet had been sitting in the ship’s infirmary amongst quietly beeping monitors and patients who were all sleeping peacefully.

  Standing here now, close enough to touch Becca, Jet realised he might have been kidding himself. Maybe he’d just been dreaming up an excuse to stay a little longer because he couldn’t face the notion of never seeing her again.

  ‘It’s just one night,’ he said, aiming to keep it casual. ‘We’ll be pretty busy sorting out the other Medevac transfers for the rest of today but … hey, I’ve been invited to eat at the captain’s table. Would have been rude to say no.’

  He heard a tiny snort of amusement. They both knew that high-ranking officials in military service would not appreciate being called a captain.

  ‘Lucky you,’ she said.

  ‘The invitation apparently includes a partner.’

  ‘Oh …’

  He wished she’d stop staring out to sea like that and would look at him so he might have some idea of what she was thinking. She’d folded her arms around herself as though she needed comfort.

  He could provide that, if she’d let him. But she wasn’t the girl he remembered. She was grown up and she could look after herself. She might not want anything more from him. She might have wanted him to disappear along with that helicopter.

  She didn’t look so grown up right now, though. Holding herself like that made her look tiny and … alone. Even her voice was small when she spoke.

  ‘Got someone in mind?’

  ‘Yeah … you.’

  Her head swivelled and her gaze flew up to meet his and she looked … scared.

  Jet groaned inwardly as he reached out and took her into his arms. Her body felt stiff but she wasn’t trying to pull away. Jet held on, closing his eyes.

  ‘I didn’t want to leave just yet, Becca. Not before we’ve had a chance to talk. We might never have another opportunity and if that’s the case, we might regret it. I know I would, anyway.’

  It took more than a heartbeat but he felt the tension in her body ease. Then he could feel the movement of her head on his chest. A subtle movement but definitely up and down. Agreement.

  He pulled back far enough to smile at her. ‘So it’s a date?’

  ‘For dinner?’

  ‘More like after dinner, I think. When we can get some time to ourselves. Somewhere private.’

  ‘I’m … sharing a cabin.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Jet gave her an encouraging squeeze and then let go. ‘I think I’ve been given an officer’s suite. Lots of room.’ It seemed important not to mention the bed. Or even think about it. ‘It’s got armchairs, even.’

  ‘Lucky you.’ A tentative smile shaped Becca’s lips but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. ‘I’ll see you at dinner, then. Can’t promise I’ll be dressed appropriately, though.’

  ‘Can’t see anything wrong with how you look right now,’ Jet murmured.

  But Becca was already halfway to the door leading off the deck. She didn’t hear him.

  It should have been relaxing.

  A day on the high seas with nothing to do but rest and eat. There were books available and satellite television and even a movie put on for the extra passengers, but Becca couldn’t concentrate on anything well enough to enjoy it.

  Jet might have been absent physically, helping the ship’s surgeon give everyone from the island a check-up between helicopter transfers of the others who needed hospital care, but he might as well have been right by her side as far as her awareness of him was concerned. Holding her hand perhaps, so that she could think of nothing more than the extraordinary feeling of how connected they were.

  Kissing her, even, because she knew that she would never experience lovemaking like his from anyone else. Ever.

  When it came time for dinner, Becca felt ridiculous being seated with the commanding officers of the ship in their immaculate uniforms, while she was wearing track pants and a T-shirt. Her apology was charmingly dismissed.

  ‘Elegant clothing is a disguise that some people have no need of.’

  The men waited until she sat down before taking their places at the table.

  ‘Besides,’ another added, ‘we like to dress our guests the same. That way we won’t mistake them for crew and put them to work.’

  Becca smiled and nodded. And allowed her gaze to rest on Jet, who was seated opposite her and wearing an identical outfit. They were a matching pair.

  And it was true. Becca could imagine him sitting there in a tuxedo, looking breathtakingly elegant and gorgeous, but it wouldn’t change the way his body owned the space it was in. Or the way he held his head with that curious stillness that disguised how alert he was. It was pure Jet. So was that look in his eyes that told her they were more than a matching pair for clothing.

  They were two sides of the same coin.

  Desire warred with grief. They might never see each other again. She had to look away and try to focus on something else or she might do something incredibly embarrassing, like burst into tears.

  It was a three-course dinner. The food and accompanying wine were delicious but Becca had no real appetite and she struggled to pretend she was enjoying her meal and not counting every second until she could be alone with Jet. With a supreme effort she did her best to seem just as engaged with the conversation going on around her.

  By the time she excused herself and Jet followed her from the dining table, she was having difficulty remembering anything that had been discussed. Only two things had made enough of an impact to stay in her head. One was that the ship would reach dock at some point during the night so they would be able to disembark as soon as they woke. Transp
ort had been arranged to take them to where they needed to go.

  The other was that Jet needed to get back to his army base. He would probably be deployed on a new mission within forty-eight hours. Afghanistan was the most likely destination.

  And, yes … he was looking forward to it.

  So this was it.

  An hour or two in his cabin to talk about things Becca had never wanted to talk about to anyone. And in the morning they would say goodbye and go their separate ways. Back to their own lives.

  Jet could get killed in the next dangerous mission that would start within days, but even if he survived a dozen such missions it was unlikely they would ever spend time alone together again.

  How could she say goodbye to this man?

  How could she not?

  By shipboard standards, Jet’s cabin was luxurious. A wider than normal single bed, a small table and two comfortable chairs beside a smaller door that must lead to an en suite bathroom. The brass edging of the porthole gleamed in soft light that came from a bedside lamp. Maybe the same person who had turned on the lamp had also turned the bed covers back so invitingly.

  It was still a small room. Just a few steps from the door to the chairs. An even smaller distance from the chairs to the bed. Jet’s presence in this space with Becca seemed overpowering. Her legs refused to take her to a chair. Did she really want to be here?

  Tilting her head, she found Jet looking down at her. There was a question in his eyes.

  A plea?

  She could see the same kind of turmoil she’d seen by the campfire two nights ago. The vulnerability that let her know that Jet had a patch of his soul that matched the one she worked so hard to hide. The lost and lonely part.

  Yes. Of course she wanted to be here.

  She wanted to reassure him. To let him know that, if he ever wanted to, it was safe to fall. As long as he was with her, because she’d keep him safe, no matter what it might take.

  He wasn’t saying anything and the tension in this small space lurched upwards. Becca could actually feel the pull Jet was exerting on her. She could feel herself tilting ever so slightly. Leaning towards him.

  She could see the way Jet’s Adam’s apple moved up and caught as he seemed to swallow with some difficulty.

  ‘So …’ His voice was hoarse but he didn’t try to clear his throat. ‘You want to talk?’

  ‘I want …’

  You, her body screamed. Or was it her heart? Somehow, her head stopped the word emerging from her mouth.

  Maybe it escaped through her eyes.

  That might explain why Jet’s pupils flared and swallowed his already dark-as-sin irises, making his eyes completely black. Why the atmosphere around them suddenly smouldered and crackled with suppressed fire. Was he trying to stop himself touching her?

  Why?

  This was only one night and they’d probably never see each other again.

  The prospect was oddly similar to that belief they were both about to be killed by debris being expelled from an erupting volcano. Only this time they were safe. They had soft light and.and a bed.

  They had all night. There would be plenty of time to talk. How could they possibly talk now when she, at least, felt like she was suffocating with her need to be touched? To touch in return.

  Communication could be telepathic. Or maybe she’d made some kind of audible sound. Either way, the heat surrounding her was suddenly alive with tiny flames that licked at her skin. Jet gave a stifled groan and his head dipped until his lips covered hers.

  What was he doing? He’d brought Becca back here with the intention of having an adult conversation. To tell her that he would always be there for her, for ever, but he couldn’t give her what she might need or want in a life partner.

  And she’d looked at him like that. As though he was the only thing she wanted.

  Of course he could give her his body. For tonight, at least. It wasn’t as if they’d be able to have any kind of conversation other than physical right now. Not when he couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together, let alone words.

  It might have been an adrenaline rush of danger and desire on the mountain but this was a whole different planet.

  One that Jet had never been on.

  Oh, he’d been with women often enough. He knew about soft lights and beckoning beds and how to take his time and wring the most out of every sensual second for both participants.

  But it had never been like this.

  Maybe the astonishing tenderness he felt came from having known Becca for years. The sheer wonder came from the miracle of how perfect a woman she’d grown into. And the mind-numbing excitement from an old whisper that this was illicit. It would be disapproved of.

  Not by him, that was for sure.

  And not by Becca, if her amazing responsiveness was anything to go by. The way her skin seemed to shiver when he touched it. Breathed on it, even. The way her nipples hardened instantly into tiny berries when he finally allowed himself the joy of putting his mouth to those small, perfectly formed breasts.

  Her moist centre that would have told him she was more than ready for him even if she hadn’t arched her body against his and cried out his name.

  The sensation of totally losing his mind as he entered paradise at the same moment he entered Becca. The feeling that this was it.

  He’d found it.

  At last.

  The tears came from nowhere.

  Silently and softly, they trickled down Becca’s cheeks as she lay cradled in Jet’s arms, slowly coming back to the real world.

  The sex up there on the mountain had been astonishing. As good as she’d always known it would be with Jet, but this … this had taken her into a different dimension. Just as exciting but … different.

  Heartbreaking.

  The tenderness with which he’d touched her. The way he’d made her believe that she was special.

  Loved.

  That was where the tears were coming from. To truly love—and be loved—was a place Becca hadn’t been in since her brother had been ripped away from her.

  It was a place where life took on a whole new meaning. It gave life the meaning it should always have.

  She didn’t want to leave. Ever.

  ‘You’re crying.’ Jet’s thumb stroked moisture from her cheek.

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Becca pushed his hand away as she scrubbed at her face. ‘I never cry.’

  The careful silence told her that Jet was remembering the last time he had seen her really crying. That equally silent, personal anguish she had suffered on hearing that there was no point in keeping Matt’s life support going. The black, black time just before she’d turned her despair into anger and directed it at Jet.

  That devastating time when she’d learned that you couldn’t trust that loving place. That the only real meaning that life had was what you could squeeze out of individual moments.

  This was one of those moments. She wasn’t going to ruin it by thinking of the past. She propped herself up on one elbow so that she could reach Jet’s face. She kissed him.

  ‘I’m happy, OK? That was.’ She couldn’t think of a word to encompass the magic of what they’d just shared. She knew she’d never find it again. Damn … those tears were still far too close for comfort.

  ‘Yeah …’ Jet’s arms tightened around her. ‘It sure was.’

  Becca found herself smiling. A wobbly smile, tinged with heartbreak but a smile nonetheless. ‘Who would’ve thought?’

  ‘Not me.’ But then Jet sighed. ‘That’s not entirely true, actually. I did think. Once.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘At that party. Remember? When I kissed you in the kitchen.’

  ‘I seem to remember it being the other way round. I kissed you.’

  ‘Did you?’ She could hear a smile in his voice. ‘Guess it was so good I wanted to take all the credit.’

  Becca snorted. ‘So good that you proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the night so that I felt like a
complete idiot.’

  ‘I couldn’t not ignore you. I had your brother giving me the evil eye. He’d already told me that I was exactly the kind of guy he intended to keep you well away from.’

  ‘Oh …’ That changed the memory significantly. Jet had been attracted to her and he’d been hiding it? If only she’d known.

  ‘And he was right. I’m not a good bet.’

  ‘Oh?’ Becca was still busy rearranging her memories of that night. Thinking of how different things could have been.

  ‘I don’t stay in one place for long. Or with one person. I’m a loner, I guess. Maybe you weren’t so far off base calling me a gypsy.’

  Becca was silent for a long minute. Aware of the warmth of Jet’s body beside her. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The steady thump of his heart against her ribs. Aware of how much she loved him. Of how different he was from anyone else she’d ever had in her life. He was a lot of things, this man, and all of them made him special. A gypsy. A pirate. A hero. A maverick. But a lone wolf?

  No. His pack had been everything to him once. Maybe he didn’t want to be loved but he was capable of loving.

  ‘It’s hard, isn’t it?’ she whispered into the silence. ‘To trust someone enough to love them? Even harder to let them love you.’

  She could feel the subtle tension gather in his body. He didn’t want to talk about anything so personal. He was pulling away from her. Sadness crept back into the mix of emotions bathing her.

  ‘Sometimes,’ she added, almost inaudibly, ‘it’s lonely.’

  That did it. Jet made a sound she couldn’t interpret and rolled away from her. He sat up and then leaned over the bed to pick up his track pants.

  ‘Want something to drink? There’s a little fridge tucked in under the table.’

  ‘No. I’m good.’ Becca sat up but didn’t reach for her clothes. She pulled the sheet up, bent her knees and wrapped her arms around them, watching as Jet fished out a can of beer and popped the top.

  Finally, he sent a glance in her direction. ‘I’m not lonely,’ he said quietly. ‘I have my life exactly the way I want it. And I have friends. Good friends.’

  ‘Max?’ Becca wanted him to keep talking, even though it was hard to delve into the past. ‘And Rick?’