Reckless Endangerment (3 page)

“Can you get rid of him for me?”  She reached into her desk for a piece of gum.  Panic clenched at her throat.  Her fingers struggled with the wrapper.

“Are you scared of the Marine?”  Devon squinted at her, a smile pulling at the edges of her mouth.  “Did you break a heart or two over there?  Think it’s some long lost lover stalking you now that he’s back in the States?”

“My life is not nearly as exciting as you think it is. I’m not scared of any Marine.”

Her gaze darted toward the newsroom doors.  “How tall is he?  Is he wounded?  Is he walking?  Does he have a scar?”

“Geez, I don’t know.  I didn’t think I needed to sketch the guy.  Go find out.”

“Right.  Find out.”  Gum snapped between her teeth.  Heartbeat raced as if she’d finished running a marathon. 

“I’ll tell him that you’ve left for the day.” Devon’s face softened with pity.  “I’ve never seen you look like this, absolutely terrified.  I didn’t mean to joke about it.  I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry.”

“No, I’ll go.  I can handle this.”  She stood on wobbly legs. Nerves skittered beneath her skin as she walked from the newsroom to the lobby.

The only Marine she cared to see had banned her from the hospital in Frankfurt, Germany.  From Germany to Walter-Reed, she’d tried to see him, had been denied access, and had been humiliated more times than she could count. 

Her heart sank like a deflated balloon at the sight of Captain Scott McGee, US Marine, standing in the lobby looking at her framed picture on the wall.  The last time she’d seen him, he had tossed her over his shoulder and escorted her from the hospital in Germany.  She had pelted his back with her fists, had screamed down the hallway for Michael to admit who she was to him…but had been shut out.  Denied.  Restrained.

Unwanted memories assaulted her.  Michael falling face first into the dirt.  Her running back for him.  McGee tackling her.  Michael’s lifeless body.  McGee shouting at her.  Machine gun fire.  The taste of sand and blood in her mouth.  Explosions.  Helicopters.  And the screaming…she could never block out the sound of her own screams. 

“Captain,” she said with more force than necessary.

He turned, his massive frame blocking out the sun from the window behind him, face hidden in sudden shadow, gray T-shirt with the words US Marine Corps stretching across his massive chest.  And she wanted to hit him. Hard.  Fist to the jaw and then a kick to the crotch. That would make her point.  Damn Captain Scott McGee. 

Their gaze connected, neither willing to break the stare first.

“What do you want?” She rubbed sweaty palms over her hips to keep from lashing out, rolled the gum in her mouth and straightened her spine. “I should have security toss you out on your ass, McGee.” 

“Payback is a bitch, ma’am, wouldn’t blame you if you did.” He kept his gaze steady on hers.

“Of course you wouldn’t. You’re much more noble than I am.  I hold a grudge.”
Be brave.  Stand tall.  Walk forward.
“Is this an official visit, Captain?  I can’t imagine you want to grab a beer or talk about old times.  What brings you to Denver? All you used to talk about was going back home to San Diego. What are you doing here?”

“Call me Scott...or McGee...I was discharged a few months ago now.”

“What do you want?”

He shook his head, first to break the stare by glancing again at the framed picture of her in the lobby.  “I heard that you won an Emmy for your series on Marishka,” McGee said after a long silence. His dark eyes drifted back to her face. “Congratulations. You earned it.  So did Peter.”

“Tell me why you’re here.”  She cleared her throat when her voice faltered.  Breathless, she tried again. “This is about Michael, right? Is he dead?  Just tell me and be done with it.”

“Hope, I need you to calm down.”

“Calm down?  I am calm.”  She shrugged deeply, hands outstretched.  “This is me being calm.  Stop being such a damn Marine and spit it out.”

“I am a damn Marine, ma’am.”  He leaned his back against the wall.  “How would you have me be?”

“Straight forward, how about that?”  She wanted to vomit.  “Is he dead?  Is that why you’re here?”

From the solemn expression on his face, she knew the news was bad.  Michael must have died.  Why else would McGee be in Denver and standing in this lobby?  There must have been too many surgeries, too many complications, too much damage, and too many ghosts. Michael.  Her worst fear realized, she braced herself against the wall and stared at her feet

“Hope…” he began, eyes watching her closely,  “you need to know that I’m really sorry for what happened in Germany, Shane.  I’m really sorry for everything. He’s not dead. He’s in Denver, at the New Horizons Institute.”  McGee’s hand was on her shoulder, supporting her.  “I’m sorry if you thought—”

“The New Horizons Institute?” She blinked at the man, certain she had misheard him. “In Denver? When?”


McGee’s smile softened his face, making him look less like a hunk of marble. “You didn’t used to repeat things, Shane.”

“Well, you’re not exactly getting to the point are you?”  She punched him in the shoulder.  “When did he get here?  Is he okay?  Did he tell you to find me?”


“No, I’m pretty sure he would be mad as hell if he knew I tracked you down.” 

“I gave his family the information on New Horizons, pulled some strings to move him to the top of the waiting list, but then I backed off.  Walter Reed said it would be months before he was released.  How did this happen?  His family arranged on him coming here?  Do they know about…about me?  About Greece?”  She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice.  “About the marriage?”

“I believe only six people on the face of this earth know about Greece,” McGee said with a smile, “despite your efforts to make sure the entire world knew.  I kept waiting for you to blurt it out on one of your live newscasts.”

“No one believed me.”

“Of course not.”  His smile faded.  “I had to respect his wishes.  He was my commanding officer, my best friend.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she studied McGee’s face through a squint.  “My sister Becky works there.  She hasn’t said anything.”


“She’s his physical therapist. She told me where to find you, thought you’d come if I came to see you myself.”

Feeling like a fool, she shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and squinted at the floor.  All those unanswered letters…silly random comments and observations written on anything she could find and tossed into the mail…hoping for a response that never came.  She embodied the word fool when it came to Colonel Michael Cedars.

“It’s about time he stops hiding from me, don’t you think?”  She met McGee’s gaze. 

“He’s not the same man you remember.” His eyes held a warning, but she already knew Michael had given up months ago.  “He’s not the same man I knew either.”

“I’m not the same woman, either.”

“He won’t want your pity.”

“I don’t pity him.  I’m spitting mad.”  No, she did
not
pity the man. She wanted to tell him off, maybe slap some sense into him and then kiss him until he came back to life.

“Stay out of trouble, Shane.”  McGee winked.  “Give the Colonel some hell, I think he needs it.”

“I’ve been looking forward to giving the Colonel some hell, Captain.”  With a mock salute, she turned her back on him and walked toward the newsroom.  Oh, yes, she had definitely been looking forward to giving the Colonel some hell. 

Chapter Two

Michael Cedars.  She thought of him that last morning together in the hotel. His long, lean body had glistened with the moisture of their shared shower.  Her hands had caressed the sculpted muscles of his shoulders—she had always loved touching his broad chest—and kissed his neck as she said good-bye.

“Don’t leave the city,” he had cautioned against her ear.

“I won’t,” she lied before nipping his chin. “I’ll be waiting for you tonight.  I have something to tell you. Good news.”

“Tell me now.” He tugged her hair and rained kisses along her face.  “I don’t want to wait.”

“No, it’s special.” God, she loved this man.  She linked her hands behind his neck, loving how small she felt in the circle of his arms, and looked up at him.  “It can wait until tonight.”

“I love you, babe.” He held her face between his hands. “I am madly, desperately in love with my wife. Promise you’ll stay safe.”

“I promise. I love you.”

She stared at the entrance of the New Horizons Institute and rubbed the silent tears from her face. She hadn’t stayed safe. She had lied about leaving the city. 

That lie had landed her in the midst of an ambush and nearly ended both of their lives. 

She smacked the steering wheel with open palms and dug down deep for the strength she knew she needed for this confrontation.

Lost in her own thoughts, she walked through the doors of the institute. Five months of pleading with him to see her, keeping their marriage a secret when she wanted to announce it to anyone who would listen, monitoring his progress without interfering.  Five months of nightmares and loneliness. 

But then she’d let go. Six weeks ago she’d moved to Denver and vowed to wait it out.  Tired of making a fool of herself over a man who had once told her daily how in love with her he was, she’d thrown herself into work, moving, jogging...into anything that kept her mind off Michael, war, death and horror.    

“The infamous Hope Shane makes an appearance,” Becky said from behind her. “I had a feeling you’d show up if that Marine paid you a visit. Why do I smell French fries?  Are you sneaking fast food to the Colonel in that bag of yours?”

She stuffed her hands deep into the pockets of her thigh-length leather jacket and feigned innocence.  “Why didn’t you tell me he was here? Why did I have to hear the news from someone else?” 

“He asked me not to.” Becky pulled a Colorado State hoodie over her scrubs.

“That simple?”

“He’s my patient.”

“He’s my…” she bit back the word husband.  “Are you leaving for the day?”

“Yep.”  Becky scanned her from head to toe with open curiosity.  “What’s with the two of you?”

“It’s complicated.” She shifted from foot to foot under her sister’s scrutiny.  “Point me in the right direction and you can head home.  I’m sure it’s been a long day.”

“He thinks you arranged to have him relocated here.” Becky lifted the flap of the messenger bag with her finger. “Is that a liquor bottle?”

She slapped Becky’s hand away. “Where is he?”

“Did you pull some strings?  Did you bully some people into getting your way?” Eyes exactly like hers flickered up to her face.  “And why would you?”

“Becky, please, you’re not the only one who would like to get on with the day.  Point me in the right direction or don’t.  I’ll find him with or without you.”

Becky jotted down the room number on the back of a receipt. “All the way at the end. He’s tired and has made it clear that he wants to be alone. Go easy on the man.”

“Easy on the man,” she muttered. “Sure. Thanks.” 

With a toss of her hair and faked confidence, she walked away from her sister and down the overly bright hallway.  Nerves tweaked beneath her skin.  She hated hospitals, the sterile smell of them, the hushed tones.  Technically, this wasn’t a hospital, but to her it smelled like one.

She stopped short in the doorway of his room.  Every suppressed emotion from the past five months hit her like tsunami.  She braced herself against the door; afraid she would fall to her knees with gratitude that he’d survived.  Tears welled up in her eyes for all they’d lost.  She blinked them back and stepped into the room. 

He had lost weight.  Hair the color of milk chocolate skimmed his ears and fell across his forehead. He slumped in his chair, head propped up against a closed fist as he stared out the window. Dressed in a baggy blue sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, he looked less like a Marine and more like a patient.

That unnerved her more than she had expected. 

Note to self:  buy Michael new clothes.  

Now was not the time to be emotional, he’d hate that. Reject it.  She took a deep breath, coached herself to chill out, stuffed her shaking hands into the depths of her pockets and willed herself to speak. 

“Hey, Michael,” she whispered.

His head snapped up and toward her as if expecting to see a ghost.  Shock transitioned to longing.  Longing morphed into regret.  Regret hardened to anger. 

“Get out and never come back,” he said. 

“Such a sweet welcome.”  She forced one foot in front of the other. “I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

“I knew you’d show up, knew this was some kind of trap.”  He moved his chair away from the window and toward the kitchen table.  “I knew you arranged this relocation.  I’m not your fucking puppet.”

“If you were my puppet, the past five months would have gone a lot differently.”  Screw emotionless.  With an opening like that, sparks ignited in her veins.  She tossed her leather coat on the sofa.  “You have no idea how pissed off I am at you.”

He shook his head and avoided eye contact.  “Can’t you leave me alone? Can’t you take a hint? How much more obvious do I need to be to get you out of my life?”