Authors: Lindsay McKenna
Pepper made an effort to smile while avoiding his gaze. His eyes were like magnets, drawing hers, she decided as she opened the second kit. "We shared a close call. Stupid reactions always happen afterward," she stammered.
Jim nodded. "Yeah—stupid things…" Like grabbing her and wanting to kiss her until they breathed the same air. Stupid things like that. "I'm just glad we're alive," he told her unevenly. "Maybe that's why I grabbed you…. I don't know…."
Pepper felt the heat in her face intensify at his muttered apology. She refused to look up at him as she dug into her kit. "That's all it was," she agreed breathlessly, "a close shave with death. Nothing more…" Wasn't it? Pepper was unsure. Her even, stable world seemed to be fragmenting before her very eyes. Hadn't she made decisions in the past to commit herself to her job, to her friends and her family—
not
to a personal relationship? Yes, absolutely. And in the six years since that decision, she'd made it stick.
Ever since John's death.
Until now.
Pepper felt wary and shaken in a way she hadn't experienced before.
Jim frowned. Though his unexplained actions toward her were far from all right, she was kindly trying to provide a way out for him—despite her own discomfort. Now was not the time to examine his actions.
He watched as she drew out a small green tube and squeezed the clear, thick contents onto her fingers. "What's that?" he asked, making an effort to get their conversation onto something safe and impersonal.
"Arnica.
It's a homeopathic remedy that I use for any kind of muscle sprains or strains." Pepper took in a ragged breath, relieved to be talking about anything other than their embrace. She gently slathered the ointment across his swollen skin and amended her earlier concerns: Jim was in tremendous shape—for an office type. "You must jog or something," she murmured, concentrating on covering the entire sprained area, "because if you didn't work out, you'd have broken something in that fall."
Jim glanced up at the thick trees on the hill above them. "Yeah…it was a hell of a fall, wasn't it?"
Her laughter was strained as she set the ointment tube aside and expertly wrapped his foot and ankle in an Ace bandage. "A hell of a fall," she agreed.
"How are you?" Jim realized he'd been remiss in asking after her condition. Had she sustained any injuries?
Panicked over his sudden interest, Pepper stammered, "A lot of bruises, but otherwise I'm okay." She looked up and brushed her hair aside. The concern on Jim's face tugged at her, and she felt her breath jam in her throat. Her heart pounded briefly, underscoring the look of care radiating from him. Again heat prickled her cheeks, and she quickly looked away, her fingers trembling as she continued to wrap his ankle.
"You're blushing," he muttered, unwilling to acknowledge his blame in her response.
"I haven't done that in years," Pepper said, frowning. Six years, to be exact.
"It's becoming," he admitted gruffly. Shocked at the intimacy that seemed to continue to insinuate itself at the least opportunity, Jim snapped his mouth shut.
"It's an embarrassing disease."
He cast desperately around for some impersonal comment, but words he didn't intend to say tumbled out of his mouth.
"You're a woman who wears her heart on her sleeve."
When Pepper raised her chin and looked at him, he realized she was so self-sufficient that few people probably ever considered she might need a little care or a tender touch herself. He could give her that, he realized suddenly. To cover up his error, he said, "Recons take care
of their own
. You're no less important than I am." He noticed a number of bloody scratches on the backs of her hands. Without thinking, he reached down and captured her right hand. Gently, he laid his palm over it. "You're hurt, too."
Stunned by his gesture, Pepper jerked away. "Oh…it's nothing. Scratches are nothing…." Her heart was pounding. She felt curiously exhilarated and at the same time wary. "I guess I'm not used to my team making a big deal over something like this," she muttered. "During a fire there isn't time to pay attention to minor injuries. We're always getting bruised, scratched and cut. It's no big deal."
With a shake of his head, Jim said, "I guess I really didn't realize the kind of danger you and your team jump into."
"Most people don't. Why should they? As far as I'm concerned, there are a lot of unsung heroines and heroes doing my kind of work. We're rarely given media coverage, but our work is intense and very dangerous." Pepper closed the first-aid kit. "Of course, people in the military aren't acknowledged much, either."
Jim nodded in agreement as Pepper took a small, amber vial from the other kit and opened it. "Here, take these," she said.
Jim stared at the small, white pellets she placed in his open hand. "What are these?"
"They're sugar pellets that have been medicated with a high dose of Arnica. Just put them in your mouth and let them melt away." She smiled a little and closed the lid on the vial. "You'll see a miracle happen with that ankle of yours—the swelling should go down within the hour. Otherwise it will never be in good enough shape for a jump one day from now."
Jim wasn't about to argue with Pepper. He put the pellets in his mouth. They tasted like sugar, not medicine. Pepper rose, carried the kits back up the hill,
then
returned to Jim's side. In the meantime, he shrugged out of his pack.
She handed him the radio. "I think we need to call for backup. You're in no shape to walk ten miles."
"Roger that," he agreed sheepishly. He took the radio from her and made the call. He no longer questioned Pepper's abilities. She'd saved his life. She'd dealt with his injury with grace and without recriminations. Soon the helicopter would be hovering over the hill above them and they would be winched up on a cable, one at a time, since there was no appropriate landing area. But first Jim silently promised himself one thing. Tonight, at his condo, he and Pepper would have a long, serious talk. It was time.
Pepper was unprepared for the flurry of activity that met them back at
Perseus
. The helicopter pilot had called in, alerting the team of their near disaster. As she entered the office, she was met by a number of people, some of whom she didn't know. Wolf and Killian guided Jim to another room, where Dr. Ann Parsons, the ex-Air Force flight surgeon who worked for
Perseus
, was waiting.
"Pepper," Wolf said as he came back out, "I want you to meet Morgan's brother, Commander Noah
Trayhern
, and his wife, Kit."
"Glad to meet you," Pepper said, extending her hand to a tall, spare officer with gray eyes. Noah
Trayhern
was dressed in his winter Coast Guard uniform, the dark blue wool a contrast to his tanned features and penetrating gaze. She liked his firm grip.
"Same here," Noah said with a tight smile.
Pepper extended her hand to the woman at his side. Kit
Trayhern
, tall as well, smiled warmly at her, offering an equally firm handshake. Her long, dark brown hair, alive with red highlights, was tied back with a red ribbon that matched the tasteful red suit she wore with a lacy white blouse.
Marie approached Pepper. "You look worn out. Are you all right, dear?"
"I'm okay." She looked down at her camouflage uniform and gave a slightly embarrassed laugh.
"Dirty, bruised, but no worse for wear."
She was acutely aware of Noah's assessing look, sure he was measuring her against what had happened and determining whether she had what it took to successfully complete the coming mission.
"Let me get you some coffee," Kit
Trayhern
offered. "You look like you could use a cup. Actually, from what we've heard, maybe you'd rather have a stiff drink."
Smiling sheepishly, Pepper nodded. "No thanks. If I drank alcohol, I'd probably ask for whiskey, straight up. Thanks, Mrs.
Trayhern
."
"Call me Kit. Come
on,
let's go into the War Room. Marie made a fresh pot when she heard you were coming in."
Pepper wondered how Jim was doing and wanted to find out,
then
thought better of it. She followed Kit into the Conference Room and gratefully sank onto a chair Noah pulled out for her. He closed the door, and he and Kit joined her at the table, coffee cups in hand.
"Can you tell us exactly what happened out there this morning?" Noah asked.
Without preamble, Pepper told them the story, leaving out only the fact that Jim had refused her help in the air and that he hadn't worn the safety bandages. She had no desire to embarrass him. On the flight in, she had sat next to him and had felt him withdrawing deep into himself. She'd wondered what he was thinking about, but then, the fact that they'd nearly died was enough to turn anyone inward for a while.
Kit sighed and smiled softly at Pepper. "We feel lucky to have you on this mission, Pepper. You've got the right stuff."
"Bruised but right," Pepper answered tiredly. She glanced at Noah. Did he feel the same way? The officer was somber, worry showing in his gray eyes.
"Have you heard the latest?" he asked.
"No. What?" Pepper sipped the hot coffee with relish.
"Wolf said still no communiqués have been intercepted to suggest where Jason or Morgan might be held. No more transmissions from Garcia, either. It's as if they know…."
"Darling," Kit whispered fervently, reaching across the table and touching his arm, "everyone's doing all they can."
"I know that," he said, scowling. He set the white mug on the highly polished table, sliding his long fingers around it. "I worry that if you go in to rescue Laura, they'll kill Jason and Morgan. We just don't know what they might do."
"Look," Kit said, removing her hand, her voice growing more adamant, "I know Garcia and Ramirez from my days as a detective in
Miami
. Laura isn't safe there. She's at serious risk. If we know where she is then
Perseus
needs to mount a mission as swiftly as possible to get her out."
Pepper saw Noah's face become rife with unspoken emotions, including obvious anguish. "I don't have a police background," she offered, "but from my days as an army officer, I know you don't avoid one objective because others might suffer. I'm sure Ramirez is expecting
Perseus
to back off. So we may have some element of surprise on our side."
Exhaling loudly, Noah stood, his dark brows drawn together. "We're dealing with the lives of my brother, his son and his wife." He looked down at Pepper. "
Dammit
, I wish I could go instead…. I wish—"
"Noah, please…" Kit said softly.
Pepper watched Morgan's younger brother struggle with barely contained emotions. She noted the glimmer of tears in his eyes,
then
he abruptly turned and walked deliberately to the other end of the room, his back to them.
"How much do you know about the
Trayhern
family?" Kit asked her.
"Only what Wolf told me on the way in from the airport the other day. I know Morgan has gone through hell regarding the Vietnam War and that he was used by the CIA against his will."
Kit nodded. "Then you realize how much trauma everyone's suffered." She rubbed her brow. "It's awful. I mean, this family has finally gotten back together. We have three beautiful children. Morgan's parents live in
Clearwater
,
Florida
, and we visit them all the time. Alyssa, Morgan's sister, is the youngest. She's married to Commander Clay Cantrell, and they're both pilots in the navy. They don't have any children, but they come and visit as often as they can, Pepper. We're very close-knit. Morgan's parents are in shock over the kidnapping. They're flying up this afternoon to
Perseus
, to meet you and Colonel Woodward, but it's a frightening situation for all of us. I'm an ex-cop, and I've had dealings with far too many drug dealers. They're the scum of the earth, as far as I'm concerned."
"Do you think Ramirez will try to attack you?
Or Morgan's parents?"