The Tortured Rebel (10 page)

Why?

This was only one night and they’d probably never see each other again.

The prospect was oddly similar to that belief they were both about to be killed by debris being expelled from an erupting volcano. Only this time they were safe. They had soft light and.and a bed.

They had all night. There would be plenty of time to talk. How could they possibly talk now when she, at
least, felt like she was suffocating with her need to be touched? To touch in return.

Communication
could
be telepathic. Or maybe she’d made some kind of audible sound. Either way, the heat surrounding her was suddenly alive with tiny flames that licked at her skin. Jet gave a stifled groan and his head dipped until his lips covered hers.

What was he doing? He’d brought Becca back here with the intention of having an adult conversation. To tell her that he would always be there for her, for ever, but he couldn’t give her what she might need or want in a life partner.

And she’d looked at him like
that.
As though he was the only thing she wanted.

Of course he could give her his body. For tonight, at least. It wasn’t as if they’d be able to have any kind of conversation other than physical right now. Not when he couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together, let alone words.

It might have been an adrenaline rush of danger and desire on the mountain but this was a whole different planet.

One that Jet had never been on.

Oh, he’d been with women often enough. He knew about soft lights and beckoning beds and how to take his time and wring the most out of every sensual second for both participants.

But it had never been like this.

Maybe the astonishing tenderness he felt came from having known Becca for years. The sheer wonder came
from the miracle of how perfect a woman she’d grown into. And the mind-numbing excitement from an old whisper that this was illicit. It would be disapproved of.

Not by him, that was for sure.

And not by Becca, if her amazing responsiveness was anything to go by. The way her skin seemed to shiver when he touched it. Breathed on it, even. The way her nipples hardened instantly into tiny berries when he finally allowed himself the joy of putting his mouth to those small, perfectly formed breasts.

Her moist centre that would have told him she was more than ready for him even if she hadn’t arched her body against his and cried out his name.

The sensation of totally losing his mind as he entered paradise at the same moment he entered Becca. The feeling that
this was it.

He’d found it.

At last.

The tears came from nowhere.

Silently and softly, they trickled down Becca’s cheeks as she lay cradled in Jet’s arms, slowly coming back to the real world.

The sex up there on the mountain had been astonishing. As good as she’d always known it would be with Jet, but
this
… this had taken her into a different dimension. Just as exciting but … different.

Heartbreaking.

The
tenderness
with which he’d touched her. The way he’d made her believe that she was special.

Loved.

That was where the tears were coming from. To truly
love—and be loved—was a place Becca hadn’t been in since her brother had been ripped away from her.

It was a place where life took on a whole new meaning. It
gave
life the meaning it should always have.

She didn’t want to leave. Ever.

‘You’re crying.’ Jet’s thumb stroked moisture from her cheek.

‘No, I’m not.’ Becca pushed his hand away as she scrubbed at her face. ‘I never cry.’

The careful silence told her that Jet was remembering the last time he had seen her really crying. That equally silent, personal anguish she had suffered on hearing that there was no point in keeping Matt’s life support going. The black, black time just before she’d turned her despair into anger and directed it at Jet.

That devastating time when she’d learned that you couldn’t trust that loving place. That the only real meaning that life had was what you could squeeze out of individual moments.

This was one of those moments. She wasn’t going to ruin it by thinking of the past. She propped herself up on one elbow so that she could reach Jet’s face. She kissed him.

‘I’m happy, OK? That was.’ She couldn’t think of a word to encompass the magic of what they’d just shared. She knew she’d never find it again. Damn … those tears were still far too close for comfort.

‘Yeah …’ Jet’s arms tightened around her. ‘It sure was.’

Becca found herself smiling. A wobbly smile, tinged with heartbreak but a smile nonetheless. ‘Who would’ve thought?’

‘Not me.’ But then Jet sighed. ‘That’s not entirely true, actually. I
did
think. Once.’

‘When?’

‘At that party. Remember? When I kissed you in the kitchen.’

‘I seem to remember it being the other way round.
I
kissed
you.’

‘Did you?’ She could hear a smile in his voice. ‘Guess it was so good I wanted to take all the credit.’

Becca snorted. ‘So good that you proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the night so that I felt like a complete idiot.’

‘I couldn’t not ignore you. I had your brother giving me the evil eye. He’d already told me that I was exactly the kind of guy he intended to keep you well away from.’

‘Oh …’ That changed the memory significantly. Jet had been attracted to her and he’d been hiding it? If only she’d known.

‘And he was right. I’m not a good bet.’

‘Oh?’ Becca was still busy rearranging her memories of that night. Thinking of how different things could have been.

‘I don’t stay in one place for long. Or with one person. I’m a loner, I guess. Maybe you weren’t so far off base calling me a gypsy.’

Becca was silent for a long minute. Aware of the warmth of Jet’s body beside her. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The steady thump of his heart against her ribs. Aware of how much she loved him. Of how different he was from anyone else she’d ever had in her life. He was a lot of things, this man, and all of
them made him special. A gypsy. A pirate. A hero. A maverick. But a lone wolf?

No. His pack had been everything to him once. Maybe he didn’t want to be loved but he
was
capable of loving.

‘It’s hard, isn’t it?’ she whispered into the silence. ‘To trust someone enough to love them? Even harder to let them love you.’

She could feel the subtle tension gather in his body. He didn’t want to talk about anything so personal. He was pulling away from her. Sadness crept back into the mix of emotions bathing her.

‘Sometimes,’ she added, almost inaudibly, ‘it’s lonely.’

That did it. Jet made a sound she couldn’t interpret and rolled away from her. He sat up and then leaned over the bed to pick up his track pants.

‘Want something to drink? There’s a little fridge tucked in under the table.’

‘No. I’m good.’ Becca sat up but didn’t reach for her clothes. She pulled the sheet up, bent her knees and wrapped her arms around them, watching as Jet fished out a can of beer and popped the top.

Finally, he sent a glance in her direction. ‘I’m not lonely,’ he said quietly. ‘I have my life exactly the way I want it. And I have friends. Good friends.’

‘Max?’ Becca wanted him to keep talking, even though it was hard to delve into the past. ‘And Rick?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Do they do what you do? Never stay in one place or with one person?’

Jet grunted. ‘They used to. Things have changed.’ He took a long pull at his can of beer.

‘Are they still practising medicine?’

‘Oh, yeah.’

‘Specialists?’

‘Yep. We all decided early on where we were heading. Max is an emergency specialist, like me. Rick went into neurosurgery.’

Becca blinked. There were so many specialities they could have gone into as young doctors but they’d all chosen the fields that had been of the most significance when Matt had become so ill. Was there a connection?

‘And they’ve got families now.’

‘Really?’ If the rest of his pack had changed, maybe Jet would one day, too. The bubble of hope couldn’t be dismissed.

‘Yeah …’ Jet seemed happy to be talking about other people rather than himself. He sat down in one of the armchairs and stared at the can of beer in his hand. ‘Rick’s with Sarah. She’s got a little boy who’s really sick with leukaemia and it turned out that Josh was Rick’s son so he became the donor for bone marrow. I talked to him earlier today. There’s been a bit of a crisis but it looks like Josh is going to be OK.’

‘That must be a huge relief.’

‘More than that, I’d say. I got the impression Rick’s got no intention of letting Sarah out of his life. Maybe I’ll get to be the best man this time.’

‘This time?’

‘Rick was the best man when Max got married.’

‘Who did Max marry?’

‘Ellie.’ Jet chuckled. ‘She’s about as feisty as you are. She turned up on his doorstep and had a baby.’

‘What? On the doorstep?’

‘Pretty much. We’d just been out for our anniversary
bike ride and there she was, banging on the door. Rick and I took off because we had a shift to get to and there I am in ED and Max turns up with Ellie in labour and trying to bleed to death.’

‘Was it Max’s baby?’

‘It is now. You should have seen him when the baby was born. It needed kangaroo care and he sat up there in PICU doing skin-to-skin stuff with this tiny kid. I reckon he fell in love with Mattie before Ellie was even in the picture.’

Something cold and nasty washed over Becca. The kind of shock you’d get if you were lying in the sun and someone threw a bucket of iced water over you.

‘Who?’

‘Ellie.’ Jet’s tone was guarded now. He was frowning at Becca, clearly puzzled by her vehemence.

She sat up straighter. ‘No … what did you say the baby’s name was?’

She saw the way Jet closed his eyes, shutting her out. She saw his chest heave even though she couldn’t hear the resigned sigh.

‘Mattie. Short for Matilda.’

Or short for Matthew.

‘How could he do that?’ Becca’s head was spinning, her tone one of puzzlement. ‘What made him think he had the right to name a baby after Matt?’

‘It’s a special name for all of us, Becca.’ Jet sounded weary. ‘You don’t have the monopoly on missing him, you know.’

‘I don’t believe this. How
could
he?’ Becca was moving now. Finding her track pants and the damn T-shirt. ‘He had
no
right.’ She had to get out of here. ‘None of you do.’

Even as the words burst out in that horrified tone, Becca knew she was being unreasonable. They had every right. As much as she did. And they had the opportunity, which was something she would probably never have. And maybe that was what was causing this pain.

‘We weren’t to blame for Matt’s death.’ Jet was standing up, watching her nearly frantic movements as she dressed herself. ‘We did everything we could.
Everything.
If I could have done anything else … if I could have made it me instead of Matt that it was happening to, I would have jumped at the chance.’ He swore softly. ‘But you’re never going to accept that, are you?’

Becca’s could hear the bitter tone of his voice but his words were sliding past with no real meaning. She was still reeling from what felt like a physical blow. There was a child in the world who had been named after her brother. A sense that the ‘bad boys’ had more of Matt in their lives than she did.

Good grief … could this jealousy rather than anger be in any way justified?

She couldn’t think straight. There were too many thoughts crowding her head. So many feelings jostling inside that she couldn’t begin to know what she really thought. Anger was the easiest to recognise. To hang on to.

She looked at Jet, standing there, scowling defensively, and she could think of nothing at all to say to him. How could she begin to explain how she felt to someone who would be prepared to defend his pack—and any decisions they’d made—to the death?

However much she had once wanted to, she had
never become part of that pack. And now it was too late. They’d all moved on, without her.

And they’d taken Matt with them.

She was going to cry but no way was she going to cry in front of Jet and say things that would make her seem pathetic and needy. She was still clinging to the anger anyway and if she opened her mouth she’d probably say something that would only make things worse.

So she turned away.

And left.

N
OTHING
was the same any more.

Even his beloved superbike wouldn’t start on its first kick. Hardly surprising given that it had been under a tarp for weeks in the basement of the converted warehouse he shared with Rick, but nevertheless it was yet another unsettling factor to add to the many others he had suddenly accumulated in his life.

Jet put more force into his leg action and the powerful bike coughed and then growled into action. He revved it into a throaty roar but his smile was grim rather than satisfied.

This was all wrong.

Here he was, about to embark on the longest road trip he’d ever made, from one of the southernmost cities in the south island of New Zealand to the very tip of the north island and … he was doing it solo.

It would have been unthinkable even a year ago. He would have had no trouble persuading Max and Rick to come along for the ride back then if they’d been able to juggle their rosters. They would have gone from Dunedin to Picton in a day, chilled out with a few beers on the ferry crossing between the islands and then had a great night out in Wellington. Another day on the road and a
night exploring old haunts in Auckland and then a final blast up as far as you go north. He would have stood beside his mates by the lighthouse at Cape Reinga and pointed out to sea in the direction of Tokolamu island.

‘Bet you’re sorry you missed all that action,’ he would have said.

And a year ago, six months ago even, they would have been sorry.

But nothing was the same.

He shouldn’t even be back here in Dunedin.

Having left the ship early enough to make sure he wouldn’t have to face Becca, Jet had got himself back to the army base to find they had nothing for him.

Correction. They had something he wasn’t at all sure he wanted. A full-time career, training elite army medics. A commitment to military life that would probably have seen him excluded from active deployment. The army wanted him but someone up high had decided it was going to be on their terms from now on, not his.

He didn’t like that. He’d stood his ground. Ultimatums had been delivered. They’d given him a week’s leave to think about it.

So he’d come back to the closest thing to home that he had but they’d had nothing for him here, either. Locum positions in the emergency department were all currently filled. Of course, if he wanted a permanent position as an emergency consultant, that might be a different story. There was just such a position being advertised but they wouldn’t take on someone who wanted to disappear for months at a time at short notice. You couldn’t staff a hospital like that. Applications weren’t closing for the job for a week or two yet. He had time to think about it.

Had someone on the hospital board of trustees been
having a conversation with some influential acquaintance in the armed forces perhaps?

Had they decided it was time for Jet Munroe to settle down?

Jet rammed his helmet into place and pulled on his leather gloves. He coasted down the driveway and glanced both ways to check for traffic.

He was the only person who would decide when, if ever, he was going to commit to one career, thanks very much.

The road was clear. Leaving a faint rubber mark on the driveway, Jet took off into the dawn.

Everything had changed.

Oh, her apartment was still the same. So was her job when she returned after being forced to take a few days off to recover from the Tokolamu mission. She was wearing the same uniform, eating the same kind of food and seeing the same people she had known for years.

But nothing felt quite right.

Everything seemed flat. Almost pointless, in fact.

‘You’re very quiet, Bec,’ her boss, Richard, commented. ‘You sure you’re ready to be back at work?’

‘I’m sure. And I’d go stir-crazy if I had to spend any more time staring at my apartment walls.’

Not that the relative blankness of her walls was the problem, exactly. It was more like their ability to act as a movie screen for what was in her head. What was really threatening to drive her crazy was her inability to stop thinking about Jet Munroe.

‘Hmm.’ Richard sounded unconvinced. ‘A crash is not a small thing to get through, you know. We’ve got
some good people available if you want to change your mind about some counselling.’

Becca’s headshake was definite. ‘Don’t need it.’ She summoned a grin. ‘You really think you could keep me away when that shiny new helicopter’s just been delivered?’ Her grin faded but she kept her tone light. ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’

‘There is such a thing as post-traumatic stress.’

‘I know.’ Becca had no trouble looking serious now. ‘And don’t get me wrong. It
was
a big deal. But I can handle it. Physically, I’m fine. See?’ She held up her arm and flapped her hand. ‘It was only a good sprain and maybe a mild concussion. I’m good.’

Her boss raised an eyebrow. ‘It wasn’t the physical repercussions I was referring to.’

Becca shrugged. ‘I’m tough. I’ve been through worse.’

Which was true. Picking up her life and forcing herself to carry on after Matt’s death had felt like wading through a mental swamp of sadness, with sinkholes of real depression to avoid.

Richard accepted her statement with a thoughtful stare and then a nod. He turned back to his paperwork with a sigh. Becca pushed her hair back from where it was tickling her forehead. She needed a haircut. She also needed to move, to try and clear the strength-sapping lethargy that was stealing through her body.

If only a job would come through. She’d been here since 6:00 a.m. this morning and it was now early afternoon and there hadn’t been a single callout. Not even a transfer from a rural hospital into the city. She’d played with the new chopper, admiring everything more than once. She’d even warmed it up and given it a bit of a
hover to make sure she was happy with the way it responded.

She’d hung out with her paramedic crew as they’d checked and rechecked all the gear, putting up with their ribbing about the extremes she’d gone to in order to get them new toys.

In desperation, she’d come up here to the office to try and find a distraction. Enough motivation to make her
feel … normal
again.

She stood up from the armchair she’d flopped into on arrival and paced across the office.

No death had been involved in this latest chapter of her life so why did she have this slowed-down, caught-in-a-swamp sensation again?

Because it
was
a kind of death, wasn’t it?

She was standing beside the window now. Looking down at the patch of tarmac outside headquarters.

Had she really believed that her feelings for Jet had been buried and long forgotten? Effectively destroyed by nurturing anger and blame?

Her mind was only too eager to pull up the image of Jet stepping from that vehicle that night and it didn’t seem to matter how often that scene was replayed. She could still feel an echo of the shockwave that recognition had generated.

And she only had to sit in the cockpit of a helicopter, as she’d already done that morning, going through the pre-flight check routine to remember the way the old feelings had started to creep back thanks to Jet’s reappearance in her life.

To know that, deep, deep down she had been glad to see him. To spend time with him.

To know that what had really caused that first, over-whelming
shockwave was the recognition of far more than the identity of a person. She had been looking at the missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle that made up the picture of who
she
really was.

So it was a kind of death she was having to deal with now.

The end of the possibility of ever feeling truly whole.

And, in a way, it was worse than losing Matt because the finality wasn’t there. Things could have been so different.

If Jet wasn’t so afraid to let love into his life.

If he wasn’t such an adrenaline junkie who chased danger to make him feel alive. To give his life meaning. Becca knew that’s what it was because she’d done exactly the same thing herself, all those years ago.

That first helicopter ride, when her passion had been born, had been what had pulled her back into living her life properly. The final escape from the edges of that horrible swamp. The buzz of the danger. Or was it, in fact, the buzz of feeling safe again? Knowing that you were alive simply because you could have been dead?

Her brain tried to catch that notion and explore it more. There was something in there. Something important, but she couldn’t quite catch it. Like a fragment of a dream that evaporated when you woke up. Instead, her mind whirled on, fast-forwarding to give her something else to angst about. Another reason why things had gone so wrong in the end of that precious time she’d had with Jet.

If only she hadn’t reacted the way she had to the idea of a baby being named after her brother.

It was still a shocking revelation but that initial reaction had been so wrong.

Giving a new baby Matt’s name was a lovely tribute. Maybe the only one they’d ever been able to make. The ‘bad boys’ had come to Matt’s funeral. They’d stood right at the back, flanking the exit, wearing their leathers, with their helmets dangling from their hands, but they hadn’t come to the graveside.

And Becca knew why.

It had been her decision to exclude them. To keep them from their rightful positions as pallbearers. Her anger had been so huge. She’d confronted her parents and shouted at them. Told them that Matt would still be alive if his so-called friends had done a better job of looking after him.

That, if they were chosen as pallbearers, she wouldn’t be attending her brother’s funeral. She wouldn’t speak to her parents again for as long as they lived. They would lose both their children if that happened.

Oh.it was still shocking. More so, perhaps, because the truth of it all was so clear. She’d done so much harm to everybody involved.

Most of all to herself.

She had pushed the ‘bad boys’ out of her life and by doing so she had excluded herself from what was the most tangible link she could have kept to her brother.

A place where his memory was so strong and important it would always be alive. Joy could be found in memories like that. In giving a new life a name that was so special.

She could have been a part of it.

She wanted to be—with all her heart.

But there was nothing she could do about it.

Jet was probably back in a war zone by now, doing hero stuff and saving lives. And, if she was going to survive, she needed to hang on to what she had and just keep going.

Becca pushed that wayward lock of hair that was almost a curl back from her temple again. She
really
needed a haircut.

The sleek black machine, with the figure hunched down to cut wind resistance, ate up mile after mile of the highway.

Jet bypassed the large metropolitan area of Christchurch, stopped briefly to refuel with the impressive backdrop of the Southern Alps on one side and the sea on the other in Kaikoura, and then kept going until he reached Picton and wheeled the bike into place on the lower deck of the inter-island ferry.

It was late afternoon on what had been a gloriously sunny day. The scenery, as they moved through the Marlborough Sounds, was stunning. Countless green islands in deep blue water so calm and glassy, the only disruption coming from a school of playful dolphins that was racing the ferry on its journey.

A journey that felt far too slow. Jet couldn’t sit still. He didn’t like someone else being in control of how fast he was moving. He didn’t like being on a ship again because it reminded him way too clearly of being with Becca. Seeing her standing against the rail at the stern of the navy ship.

He stalked the decks, scowling harder at the cries of ecstasy from tourists who had spotted the dolphins. The cold beer he had purchased from the bar inside wasn’t relaxing him nearly as much as he’d anticipated. Maybe
it was the sight of so many damned islands out there and the reminder of Tokolamu and … inevitably, of course. of Becca.

Why couldn’t he shut her out of his mind?

God knew, he was trying hard enough.

He’d been angry enough to be glad to leave her behind on that ship. The way she’d reacted to hearing Mattie’s name. If he’d needed any proof that she was never going to put the past behind her and forgive him for his part in it, that had been it.

He’d told the others about it last night, when he’d gone to visit Max and Ellie. Rick had even been persuaded to leave Sarah and Josh at the hospital for a couple of hours and go with him, but if Jet had been hoping for an evening anything like the ‘bad boys’ would have had in the past, he’d been disappointed.

Disturbed, in fact. Almost as disturbed as he’d been when he’d first seen Rick again.

‘There’s no way I’m going to get used to that,’ he’d decreed. ‘I can’t believe you went and shaved off all your hair.’

Rick had just grinned. ‘Hair grows,’ he’d said. ‘It’s no big deal.’

Ellie had shaken her head vigorously. ‘It’s a
huge
deal.’

Jet’s nod had been approving. At least someone agreed with him. But Ellie’s eyes were suspiciously moist and her smile was one of utter admiration.

‘He did it because of Josh,’ she told Jet. ‘His hair’s all gone from the chemo and he felt like a freak and so Rick shaved his off to make him feel better. He even offered to shave Harry.’

‘Who the hell is Harry?’

Turned out Harry was the disreputable-looking dog currently living with Max and Ellie but due to move in with Sarah and Rick and Josh in the near future. When Rick had sold the warehouse and found a more suitable family home, that was.

Jet drained his bottle of lager and debated going back into the crowded bar to queue for another one. He changed his mind when he saw that the ship was nearly at the entrance to the sounds. There were whitecaps on the open sea ahead. Maybe Cook Strait was going to live up to its rough reputation and provide a bit of excitement. A stiff breeze and a decent swell would send most of the tourists inside and Jet could enjoy the distraction of a decent bit of sailing in peace.