Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(61)
Home. The concept was abstract to the max, even though she’d spoken to her parents a short while ago, fighting tears as they’d wept openly with relief.
She didn’t feel relief yet. She still felt numb disbelief. Less than twelve hours ago she’d been outrunning soldiers with big guns, flying through the air at the end of a very long rope before being set carefully back on the ground, then hustled into a helicopter by men she’d never met but now owed her life to.
Reed. Black. Green. Colter. Friends of Cav’s. Friends of Wyatt, who had orchestrated their action-adventure-movie rescue from thousands of miles away in the United States.
Life in living color.
She folded her arms beneath her breasts and sighed deeply. It was what she’d wanted: a little excitement, a little color. Well. She’d gotten way more than she’d bargained for.
Her memories were so out of focus that she couldn’t accurately reconstruct what happened after the chopper had touched down. A fast, loud flight. Landing somewhere in Bangladesh. Boarding a waiting jet for a charter flight to Jakarta.
Shock, she supposed. Shock and confusion and a sense that life as she’d known it was never going to be the same again.
How could it be, after David Cavanaugh?
She flashed on a vivid, visceral memory of him naked and needing her. Of the dark eyes that had burned into her soul when he’d made love to her. The connection had been intimate and meaningful, and now… Well, now, apparently, it was over.
It had become acutly clear that with the transition from peril to peace, the only part David Cavanaugh intended to play in her future was that of a memory.
She jumped when she heard a sound behind her, spun around, and there he stood: the reason her life had changed forever.
Her savior. Her lover. And very soon part of her history, if the emotional distance he’d erected between them was any indication.
She watched him walk toward her, swallowed back the pain. He was larger than life, twice as imposing, a vibrant light as moving as a sunrise… but for the veiled look in his eyes when they met hers.
“It’s a go,” he said, holding up a handful of legal-looking documents. He gripped her elbow and steered her briskly toward the exit. “But we’ve got to move fast, before they change their minds and we end up hamstrung by paperwork that could keep you here until the next millennium.”
She didn’t ask him how he’d managed to unsnarl the paperwork; he wouldn’t answer her anyway. He never answered anything.
It didn’t matter. She’d already figured out by the deference he was shown at the embassy that David Cavanaugh was an important man. She’d already known he was extraordinary. And even though he had to know she was confused and hurt, he remained as distant as her freedom from the labor camp had once seemed to be.
Rain poured down in a deluge as they sprinted to a waiting car. She was soaked to the bone as they ducked into the backseat, then a driver took them through the clogged city streets to the airport, where a chartered jet waited to fly her back to the States.
Silent, she watched the city speed by through rain-blurred windows. What was the point in talking? Idle conversation would be both painful and insulting.
“You doing okay?” Cav finally asked from across the very far distance to his side of the backseat.
She nodded, unable to look at him. If she looked at him, she’d just see that carefully imposed distance that meant heartbreak, regret, and good-bye.
Could she really just let this happen without saying a word? Without at least making it a little easier for him? Didn’t she owe him that much?
She glanced at him, saw his dark eyes watching her with regret and maybe even a little longing. But she couldn’t go there. If he wanted more, he’d had ample opportunity to say so. Plenty of chances to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and tell her…
No. There was a bottom line here that she couldn’t ignore. He’d done none of those things. He was letting her go. It was the end of this particular love story, and she had to let him know it was okay.
“Look.” She drew a steadying breath to settle herself. “I get it, okay?” She forced a smile. “I understand that saying good-bye isn’t easy for you either.”
“Carrie—”
She held up a hand, stopping him. She didn’t want to hear that he was sorry. She didn’t want to make him tell her what she already knew. He deserved to walk away with a clear conscience.
After all, he hadn’t known she was going to fall in love with him. And as outrageous and illogical as it was she had. She’d fallen hard.
He leaned forward, pushed a button, and raised the glass partition between the front and back seat so they could speak in private.
“It’s okay,” she said forcing herself to hold his gaze. Forcing a smile despite the pain, when his expression told her how uncomfortable he was. “We got a little lost in the moment out there. Desperate times, desperate measures and all that.” She lifted a shoulder. “People get caught up in a life-or-death situation and it’s human nature to say things, do things… things they meant at the time but don’t translate to the real world.”
He looked away, ducked his head as if he was struggling to form the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with regret. “You’re an amazing woman, Carrie Granger. Another life… another time—”