“I’ll be talking to the others,” Tommy replied.

“Good.” Max nodded to Rachel, her expression as remote as if they were strangers. “Good-bye, Ms. Winslow. I hope you have a safe trip home.”

Rachel rose, but she didn’t have time to protest before Max spun around and left. She only had a minute to make a decision as she started after her. “Tommy, go ahead without me. I’ll find my own way back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go ahead. I know you want to file your story.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got some unfinished business.” Impatiently Rachel hitched her shoulder bag higher and opened the door. If she didn’t hurry, Max would be gone.

Tommy grasped her arm, his brow furrowed. “What about the security people? Aren’t they supposed to drive us back to the hotel?”

“Damn it, yes.” Rachel spun back to him. “Tommy, I need a favor. Tell Kennedy—that’s the woman—”

Tommy grinned his devil-may-care grin. “I noticed.”

“Tell her I’ll be here a while but that you need to file your story right away. Ask them to drive you to the motor pool or somewhere so you can catch a ride back to the hotel.”

“Ah—where will you be?”

“I’ll be back here in an hour. Tell Kennedy that’s how long I’ll be with the CO.”

“Why do I feel like we’re back at Yale and I’m about to get busted again for sneaking into the sorority house?”

“You did sneak in, and I covered for you so you wouldn’t get suspended. I told you my roommate wasn’t interested, but you wouldn’t listen. That part wasn’t my fault.”

He fingered his jaw. “She didn’t have to deck me.”

“Yes, she did. Now go run a screen for me—I really have to get out of here.”

He kissed her cheek. “All right. But I want to do a follow-up story in Mogadishu and maybe a longer exposé when we get back to the States. You agree?”

“Yes, all right. But get this one filed first. It’s important.”

“It’s a great story. I’ll talk to you soon. Dinner tonight?”

“Yes, of course, if I can.” She just wanted to get away. She wanted, needed, to find Max.

Tommy gathered his briefcase, recorder, and notebooks and left. Rachel forced herself to wait five minutes before searching for an exit that would let her avoid the main entrance in case Kennedy or Smith didn’t buy Tommy’s story and were still outside. She slipped out a side door and hurried toward the road, angling between the adjacent buildings until she was far enough away not to be seen. She hoped.

The last two hours had been hell. She’d known reliving her experiences out in the jungle for Tommy would be difficult, but watching Max withdraw behind a shield of remote indifference had been harder. Max had answered Tommy’s questions, she’d been polite and, as Rachel had expected, had downplayed her own role in the events. But Max had never looked her in the eye after those first seconds when she’d stared at Rachel in confusion, then anger, and finally dismissal. The distance between them was agonizing. Damn Tommy.

Not that he was to blame for his assumptions about her relationship status, but she’d have to make things clearer to quite a few people. First she needed to find Max. She stopped at an intersection and didn’t recognize anything. She’d been walking so fast she hadn’t paid any attention to where she was. Rows and rows of CLUs stretched in every direction. The place was a maze. God, was she lost? She couldn’t be lost. She didn’t have time to be lost. She had to find Max. She half laughed, a painful sound that caught in her chest and tore at her. She was lost and she needed to find Max. Why had it never occurred to her she’d spent so much time avoiding the paths other people laid out for her, she hadn’t been able to see where she wanted to go?

She took a breath, looked around, and picked out a larger building she remembered seeing when she’d been standing on the steps of Max’s CLU. Please let that be the same one. She headed in that direction, checking the markings on the CLUs as she passed. Finally she reached the series of letters she recognized and found Max’s. It looked as it had the first day. Closed and shuttered. Like Max had been when they’d first met. Like she’d been that morning.

Rachel wet her lips, stepped up, and knocked. The silence was so oppressive she had trouble drawing a breath. Sweat misted her temples. Her heart ricocheted around in her chest. She pushed back her hair with both hands and rapped again, louder. “Max, please. Open up.”

The door opened. An African American woman with wary dark eyes and a cautious smile looked out. Her dark green T-shirt and boxers were wrinkled. Her face was creased as if she’d just gotten out of bed.

“Sorry,” Rachel said. “I’m looking for Max.”

The woman tilted her head and squinted against the sun, studying Rachel as if she were an alien presence. “How’d you get here?”

“What? I walked.” Rachel waved behind her. “From—over there.”

“Come on in and get some water. You’ll cook out there.”

The woman held the door and Rachel climbed inside. A blast of cool air hit her and she sighed. “Thanks.”

“Here.” The woman opened a bottle of water and handed it to her. “I’m CC, by the way.”

“Rachel. Sorry if I woke you.” Rachel peered down the length of the CLU, looking for Max.

“You missed her by about fifteen minutes.”

Rachel’s throat tightened. “Where is she?”

“Probably at thirty thousand feet.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Orders came this morning while she wasn’t here. She was due to fly out at ten forty. I helped her pack. Took us under a minute, and she had five to make the airfield. Knowing Max, she did.”

“Fly where?” Rachel said, an ominous stillness seeping through her.

CC grinned. “Stateside.”

Chapter Twenty-six

“Stateside?” Rachel stared at CC, certain she’d heard her wrong. “But…I just saw her. Not even half an hour ago.”

CC shook her head, her wide expressive mouth turning down for an instant at the corners. “Half an hour out here could be a lifetime.”

A chill rippled through Rachel’s chest. A minute out here was a lifetime—or at least life changing. “Are you sure she’s left? Is there any chance I could catch her?”

“I doubt it. When orders come through, sometimes you don’t even have time to pack. And with something like this…” She shrugged. “If there’s a seat on a transport with your name on it, you’ll do anything to fill it. Max probably flagged down someone from the motor pool and caught a ride over to the airfield. I’m sorry.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where she’s going?” Rachel’s thoughts whirled as if in the vortex of a tornado, jumbled fragments spinning around randomly, banging into each other or missing by inches. Making no sense. She’d been running disaster scenarios for the last twenty-four hours—worrying about Max facing Carmody alone, afraid her plan to use Tommy to make Max a public hero would backfire somehow, terrified she couldn’t pull it all off in time. When Max had walked into the room that morning, she’d had to use every bit of her control to maintain her composed façade. All she’d wanted was to jump up and touch her. Instead she’d had to sit there while Tommy interviewed them, pretending to be calm while all the while dying to be alone with Max. Her stomach was on the verge of revolt by the time they’d finished, and then Max had bolted before she could explain.

“If she grabbed a spot on a C-130 she might get a ride straight through to Lejeune or Norfolk.” CC drained a bottle of water and dropped the plastic container into a bucket by her bed along with half a dozen other empties.

“I really need to talk to her.” Rachel hugged her midsection. The thought of never seeing Max again sent a sliver of pain slicing through her.

“She’ll probably be a day or two in transit and then a few more until she’s done with all the separation details. Your best bet is to try tracking her down by phone.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said, her energy finally draining away. She didn’t have a number for her. The idea was almost laughable. She’d put her life in Max’s hands a dozen times. She’d made love with her, for God’s sake, and now Max had vanished and she had no idea where she’d gone. She could find her—she had the connections to do it, if Max even wanted to speak to her after Tommy’s cock-up. She should have told Max everything before…Before what? Before they spent every second working to stay alive, before they fell on each other out of desperation and wild need, before Carmody and his slimy accusations put them in another kind of firefight? Could she possibly have screwed things up more?

Rachel went to the door. “Sorry I got you up.”

“No problem. When you catch up to Deuce in the States,” CC said, “tell her hi for me.”

“Yes,” Rachel said, wondering if that would ever happen. At least Max was safe. Away from whatever quagmire of political blame-placing and manipulation was going on here. She was glad for that. Glad that Max was out of the line of fire. But the emptiness ached more brutally than anything she’d ever known. “I will.”

Steeling herself for the long, hot walk back to headquarters, she stepped outside. A Humvee blocked the road directly in front of the CLU. Kennedy climbed out, a scowl replacing her usual bland expression. Her mouth was set in a tight line, and her brows knotted in the center, creasing her perfect forehead. She jammed her hands on her hips.

“Ms. Winslow.” Kennedy’s voice vibrated with annoyance.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have to remind you I don’t work for you or answer to you, so I won’t.”

Silently, Kennedy opened the rear door for her and held it while Rachel slid in. The door slammed and the Humvee lurched forward. She leaned her head back and stared at the roof. She couldn’t remember ever being so tired, and the last thing she wanted to do was sleep. If she slept, she might dream. If she dreamed, she might remember. The memories were clear enough—terrible enough—while awake. In dreams the horrors took on new life, towering above reason and reality. She wasn’t prepared to risk it—not just yet. If she thought she could close her eyes and dream of Max, she would sleep right there. But she didn’t need to sleep to dream of her either. Her face, her voice, the lingering press of her hands and heat of her mouth surrounded her. God, she wanted her.