Pamela Clare - Striking Distance

“I’m so sorry.” She sank into his embrace and held him as tightly as he held her, one thought running through her mind, the same thought that had haunted her all afternoon.

She’d almost lost him. She’d almost lost Javier.

That simple realization had cut through her, opened her eyes to the truth. Despite all that had happened to her, despite the terrible situation with Klara, she had something precious in her life now, something beautiful, something she could not bear to lose.

And that was Javier.

She loved him.

He drew back, a hand against his injured side. “You think you can help me find a way to take a shower without getting this wet?”

She smiled up at him. “I bet I can think of a thousand ways.”

It was only later, when she and Javier lay in bed together on the brink of sleep, that Laura remembered what she’d discovered about Ali.

She would call Zach tomorrow.

LAURA RAN NAKED into her office and booted up her computer, then rushed back to her bedroom and grabbed something out of her closet. It turned out not to be the blue dress she’d aimed for but a blue blouse. “Helvete!”

Javier stood in the hallway naked, apart from the dressing on his side, glancing down at the watch in his hand. “You’re not going to make it. It’s zero-nine-hundred and thirty seconds.”

She slipped into the blouse, buttoning it as she ran back toward her office, still totally bare from the waist down.

“Is this your new professional look, because, I gotta say, bella, I like it.”

Torn between laughter and irritation, she glared at him as she passed. “This is your fault, Javier Corbray.”

“My fault? Hey, you started it.” He followed her. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to be your morning lollipop, but I need to eat, too.”

Her simple good-morning blow job had turned into a round of crazed sixty-nine that had sent pillows flying—and was about to make her late for work. Oh, but it had been worth it. Her body was still purring.

She sat at her desk and clicked on Skype, doing her best to work the tangles out of her hair, the clock on her computer telling her that she was now a full minute late for the I-Team meeting. She grabbed her notepad and was about to log on when she realized Javier had followed her into her office. “Go, or my editor is going to see you naked!”

Chuckling, he disappeared out the door.

A click and a few rings later, she found herself staring at Tom’s face.

“Nice of you to join us, Nilsson.”

“Sorry I’m late.” She felt the urge to laugh, knowing that to him she looked normal—a bit less polished than usual, but normal—when she was only half-dressed.

“Hey, Laura!” That was Sophie.

Tom went on. “Harker, can you indulge Nilsson’s tardiness by repeating yourself?”

“I’ve got an e-mail trail of two city council members who appear to have been taking kickbacks from a labor union. I’m guessing twenty inches with head shots.”

“Alton?” Tom’s gaze shifted.

“Windsor became the tenth Colorado town to ban fracking. I’d like to pull something together on the lawsuits challenging the bans and include the latest EPA studies on air and water pollution at fracking sites. Joaquin got some great shots of the rigs out along the Poudre River. I’d need probably fifteen to twenty inches.”

Tom looked into the camera. “How about you, Nilsson? Make any progress on that VA story?”

“I have an interview scheduled for later today with the regional VA director, and then I’ll be ready to pull it together.” Laura had never quite gotten the hang of thinking in column inches. She did a bit of mental math. “It will be a good twenty inches.”

“What about photos?” That was Syd.

Joaquin answered. “I’ve got shots of most of the soldiers she’s interviewed as well as the PTSD coordinator.”

“Carmichael—your turn. What’s the latest on the bombing investigation and last Thursday’s shooting?”

“That depends.” The camera moved until Laura found herself looking at Alex, who had a black eye and lacerations on his cheek. “Any word from the DPD as to whether yesterday’s shooting of your SEAL friend is related to the attacks on you?”

He already knew.

“No.”

Alex looked directly into the lens. “Are you sure about that?”

“Of course, I’m sure.”

“I’d really hate it if some other paper scooped us on any of these stories because you held out on your own coworkers.”

Laura’s face flamed. “If I knew something and sharing it wouldn’t place my life or his in danger, I would tell you. In this case, I haven’t heard anything. The shooter might have been just a random psycho.”

She understood now why Alex got punched in the face so often.

Alex looked up at Tom. “Javier Corbray, the SEAL who’s shacking up at Laura’s, was shot yesterday in broad daylight on Nineteenth Street between Chestnut and Wewatta. Minor wound. Corbray fired back and killed his assailant with two slugs to the chest. DPD is being very close-lipped about it. Also, my sources with the FBI says they’re getting close to making an arrest in the bombing.”

“What?” Laura hadn’t heard that. “Who told you that?”

But Alex ignored her. “I’m looking at six inches on both pieces.”

Laura was glad when the meeting was over. She walked to her bedroom to finish dressing, then found Javier sitting in his running pants on the sofa staring out the window at the mountains, his cell phone on the coffee table across from him.

She sat beside him. “Did your commander call?”

He shook his head, one hand coming to rest on her thigh. “I called him. I decided it was better he hear it from me than the newspapers.”

That made sense.

“What did he say?”

“He wants me to fly back to Coronado this afternoon.”

Laura felt the color drain from her face. She stood, turned her back to him, walked to the kitchen. “So . . . you’re leaving.”

“Laura, I—”

“It’s probably for the best. Since you got here, you’ve been filmed and photographed, had your name in the paper. You’ve been shot at—twice. You were almost killed yesterday.” She averted her gaze, not wanting him to see how upset she was. She’d never cared for women who used their emotions to blackmail. Javier needed to do what was right for him without pressure from her. “You came to Colorado to recover, not to get sucked into my mess.”

“I did not get sucked into anything.” He walked over to her and took her hands. “I made a choice, bella, and that choice was to stand by you. I’m not leaving now.”

She stared at him. “But your commander—”

“He didn’t give me an order. It was more like a strong suggestion.”

“A suggestion?” Laura shook her head. “I don’t want you putting your career on the line for me. You’ve already done so much for—”

He pressed his fingers to her lips. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m staying here with you until my leave is up.”

Laura sank into his open arms and held on tight, hoping with all of her heart he wouldn’t have a reason to regret his decision.

JAVIER LOOKED OUT over the rooftops of Denver, trying not to feel anything as he spoke. “We came across a shepherd and his two sons on our way in. You know the choice—kill them or let them live and risk them giving us away. I did what I felt was right. We gave them chocolate and water, even fixed blisters on one boy’s foot. The moment we left, they must have hightailed it to the village. We were ambushed by Taliban fighters. Eighteen men died.”

“You can’t blame yourself.” Nate stood beside him in his fleece barn jacket, cowboy hat pulled low to keep the wind from catching it. “I’d have done the same thing. Most of us would.”

Nate had called shortly after Javier and Laura had finished breakfast to say he’d heard about the shooting and was on his way over. The two of them had retreated to the rooftop so as not to distract Laura, who was still on the clock.

“That’s what I tell myself.” He’d been telling himself that for more than five months. “My squad agreed with my decision. No one wanted to put a bullet through those kids, man. The boys couldn’t have been much older than nine or ten. But then I see that helo flying in, getting blown to bits along with medics inside . . . They died trying to save our lives.”

He could still hear the rotors, feel the blast wave, smell the burning fuel oil.

“I tried to help Krasinski hold on, but . . . I took another round, lost consciousness, woke up in a hospital. In my dreams, Crazy K is lying beside me, bleeding out in the dirt.”

“Just like your brother.”

Javier nodded, his throat tight. “Krasinski trusted me. He was a tough kid, a hard charger. He gave it a hundred and ten percent. He was a warrior. I guess he reminded me of Yadiel—that enthusiasm, that deep loyalty, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Javier drew a deep breath, then turned to look at his best friend. “You were right. I’ve been acting like an ass. I’m sorry, man.”

“You got no reason to apologize. You’ve always been there for me. I just wanted you to trust me enough to let me be there for you. I know it’s not easy for you to admit that you need anything from anyone. Thanks for opening up, for letting me in.”

And Javier finally understood.

He’d tried to be the one that everyone could count on, the one who didn’t need help. He’d felt that’s what he’d had to do to be strong. But this kind of brotherhood—it was a two-way street. It had been arrogant of him to try to help Nate when he refused to let Nate help him.