Kitabı oxu: «Heart At Risk»
“I’m not going to let anything happen to any of you, Maddie.”
Kurt lowered his head. His next move was as instinctive as it was inevitable. He had wanted to kiss her for days, but this time he intended the kiss to be light, gentle. A tender gesture meant to soothe her fears and give her the assurance of his protection. But the instant he felt the softness of her lips, the taste of her, he wanted so much more. With all the willpower he could muster, he broke the kiss.
Her surprise was as evident as his own as she stared up at him.
For ten years she’d nourished her memory of the father of her son with fanciful yearnings and wishful dreams. Now, under the pressure of his lips, the warmth and power of his embrace, divine sensation spiraled to the pit of her stomach in a degree of aroused passion she had never suspected existed within her.
“Maddie, I want to make love to you.”
Dear Reader,
It’s been business as usual for the men of the Dwarf Squad, so Kurt Bolen (Code name: Sneezy), on medical leave due to a wound he received on the last mission, decides to make a quick visit to the small Wisconsin town in which he was raised. He is unprepared not only for the greatest and most unexpected surprise of his life, but also to find himself involved with illegal organ harvesters who are out to harm him and those near and dear to him.
I have to admit I’ve grown very attached to these guys in RATCOM, the CIA’s Rescue and Anti-Terrorist Special Ops Squad, and the great gals they ended up marrying. If you liked Ann Bishop and Trish Cassidy, I’m sure you’ll find Maddie Bennett just as appealing. Her mundane daily routine of running her bookstore takes on a whole new perspective when Kurt Bolen comes back to town.
I want to take this opportunity to thank you for the thoughtful cards and letters so many of you have sent Don and me during this chapter in our lives. Nothing is more rewarding than knowing there are unknown faces out there offering their prayers and support.
With Valentine’s Day upon us, give that special person in your life a hug and kiss from me. And above all, have a happy and healthy winter.
My deepest love and affection,
Ana Leigh
Heart at Risk
USE TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR
Ana Leigh
ANA LEIGH
is a Wisconsin native with three children and five grandchildren. From the time of the publication of her first novel in 1981, Ana successfully juggled her time between her chosen career and her hobby of writing, until she officially retired in September of 1994 to devote more time to her “hobby.” In the past she has been a theater cashier (who married the boss), the head of an accounting department, a corporate officer, and the only female on the Board of Directors of an engineering firm.
This New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author received a Romantic Times BOOKreviews Career Achievement Award nomination for Storyteller of the Year in 1991, the Bookrak 1995-1996 Best Selling Author Award, the Romantic Times BOOKreviews 1995-1996 Career Achievement Award, and the Romantic Times BOOKreviews 1996-1997 Career Achievement Award for Historical Storyteller of the Year. Her novels have been distributed worldwide, including Africa, China and Russia.
I dedicate this novel to Kurt Kelley, a family friend
who is as dear to my heart as a son, and
who kept asking, “How’s the book coming?”
Hey, here it is, Kurt!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Prologue
Colombia
The stillness was eerie. Black…noiseless…encompassing. No sound of distant voices, chirp of a cricket, chatter of a bird. Not a leaf stirred, nor a creature scurried as the six men hastened through the trees, their footsteps swathed in darkness and silence.
Suddenly the blackness was breached by a dim light filtered through the shutters of a window on the upper floor of a two-story stone building that stood like a monolith amid the scattered wooden shacks that surrounded it.
They had reached their target.
They’d been told that the local residents rarely ventured out at night, and despite the heat, kept their doors locked and shutters closed. Kurt could only hope tonight was no exception.
The strident bark of a dog split the stillness. Cassidy raised his hand, halting the squad. The barking ceased as quickly as it had begun and was too distant for their presence to have alerted the animal, so they moved on.
As they neared their objective, the squad pulled on their thermo night-vision goggles, casting the darkness into a surrealistic green that enabled them to read the H sign hung above the front entrance of the building. To Kurt, a hospital meant sanctuary, a place of healing.
So how come I have a knot in my gut and goose bumps on my arms?
A door slammed and the men froze. The faint glow of a cigarette indicated the presence of a man, an automatic weapon hung from a strap on his shoulder.
“Make him?” Cassidy whispered. Kurt nodded. “Take him out.”
Kurt raised the scoped sniper rifle and lined up the target. As soon as they heard the faint pop of the silencer, the squad moved quickly and entered the building.
Despite the wooden floor, the six men stole up the stairway without a sound and proceeded toward a lit room at the end of the hallway, halting to make sure each room they passed was deserted.
The final room had double doors that swung inward. Cassidy shoved up his goggles. The rest of the team did likewise, then waited as he peered cautiously through the glass in one of the doors. The wait seemed endless. He glanced at Don Larson beside him. Larson nodded, and tightened his hold on the weapon he carried. Cassidy and Larson would be the first two through the doors. The whole squad was tensed and wired. Ready to go. It was always like this right before the action.
Cassidy turned his head and mouthed the word eight, indicating there were eight armed men inside. The squad was outnumbered, but had the element of surprise—if not, all hell would have broken out by now.
He mouthed the word nine and made a slashing motion across his right arm to indicate there were nine unarmed people on the right side of the room.
They most likely were the six American hostages the squad had come to rescue, and probably three local medical people. Kurt could only hope that none of them would get hit when the gunfire started.
Cassidy stepped back, nodded then pushed open the doors.
Within seconds the shooting, shouting and cries of alarm had ended, and the fight was over. None of the team or hostages had been wounded and as the squad checked the bodies on the floor Cassidy announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re here to get you out. Please do exactly as told.” He repeated the same message in Spanish.
A slim, middle-aged man stepped forward. “I am Dr. Fernando Escobar, head of this hospital,” he said in accented but proper English. “We are grateful to you and your men, but I must offer medical assistance to any of those wounded men who require it.”
Kurt shook his head when Cassidy glanced at him.
“None require it,” Cassidy said succinctly.
“Then I must check my patients.” The doctor went over to two hospital beds that had been shoved against a wall in the corner of the room. One of the women, obviously a nurse, joined him.
Cassidy turned back to the hostages. “Who’s in charge among you?”
“I’m Dr. Eric Danvers,” one of the men said. “We’re a volunteer medical group. We come down here for a month each year to offer medical assistance.”
“I’m aware of that, sir. And we’re here to take you home. Dr. Escobar, what about your staff and patients? Do you wish to be evacuated?”
“No, these patients are local villagers, the victims of for-profiting organ harvesting,” Dr. Escobar replied. “It is a very common practice among the poor in this area. The harvesters come into a village, pay the locals a meager amount of money, extract the organs in a makeshift operating room and then dump the victims on our doorstep, not really caring if they live or die. None of us are in danger now. The terrorists were after the Americans.”
“As you wish, sir,” Cassidy said. “Did any of these men mention what terrorist group they belonged to?”
“No,” Escobar replied. “But I am sure you know or you wouldn’t be here.” He turned back to his patients.
Kurt felt relieved when he heard the sudden tell-tale whir of a helicopter; their taxi had arrived—and punctual as usual.
With a wordless command Cassidy nodded to Rick Williams and Pete Bledsoe. They knew what was expected of them and led out.
Once they were airborne, the rescued hostages settled down and talked in low tones among themselves.
Too tired to follow the conversation, Kurt leaned his head against the wall, closed his eyes and thought about the mission.
Once again the Dwarf Squad had made it through without anyone seriously wounded. He couldn’t help grinning when he thought how the Agency had tagged them the Dwarf Squad because they used the names of the seven dwarfs as code names. Then the grin slowly faded as he thought of Danny Sardino, code name Bashful, who had been killed in Beirut two years earlier. Danny had been the only squad member killed from the time they were formed.
These men were his brothers. His only family. Most had been SEALs when the CIA recruited them for RATCOM, the Agency’s Rescue and Antiterrorist command. Rick Williams and Pete Bledsoe were the only exceptions—the two Brits had served in England’s SAS. They’d been together for almost four years now. With the exception of Justin Anderson, who’d become a member of the squad six months before when Mike Bishop, the leader of the squad, had been pulled out and made deputy secretary of RATCOM. Dave Cassidy had moved up to squad leader.
And each man in the squad had an individual specialty—his was sharpshooter.
Together the six men were not only a family—they were a definitive weapon.
Chapter 1
Why in hell did I come back here? Kurt thought with disgust. I hated this damn town when I lived here.
In ten years the town hadn’t changed much—still only one main street with one stoplight and one service station. The steeple of the Catholic church was still the tallest structure in town, and the courthouse with its portico and creaking rocking chairs looked like it could use a coat of fresh paint.
Kurt glanced at the grain store as he drove past it. The sign now read Cletis Tyler, Owner. So old man Tyler must have either died or retired, and his piss-ass son—and fellow classmate—had taken over.
Jake’s Tap was still the only tavern in town, the Dew Drop Inn the only motel. The post office was in the same spot, and the bank had a new brick facade. From what he could see, the only thing new was a two-story department store in the strip mall, boasting everything from safety pins to television sets. A woman’s beauty salon called Curl Up with Shirley was a new addition also, and a pharmacy now occupied the space where Elsa’s Bakery had been.
He used to love going to that bakery when he was a kid. It always smelled of freshly baked bread. Elsa Guttman, the kind old lady who owned it, would always slip him a sugar cookie. Maybe he had a few good memories of the town after all.
He was surprised at the sight of a tearoom and bookstore standing next to the old Rivoli Theatre. Now closed and boarded up, the letters on the theatre’s once brightly lit canopy spelled out Building for Sale or Lease.
The balcony of the old theatre offered some fond teenage memories for Kurt as well…
If he kept it up, pretty soon he’d be blowing his nose and wiping the tears out of his eyes.
Yeah, right!
Kurt parked in front of Rosie’s Diner. Twenty-five years ago Rosie Callahan had been the town hooker and earned her money the hard way—on her back. Much to the chagrin of half the guys in town, five years later she’d saved up enough money to open the only diner in town. By the time Kurt left town Rosie had just been elected mayor and was back to her old tricks in order to pay off campaign promises.
He popped seventy-five cents into a newspaper box and grabbed the Vandergriff Sentinel. A quick glance revealed that Carson Meadows was still the editor in chief, reporter and chief cook and bottle washer for that matter. Nothing changed except the price. It had gone up twenty-five cents in the past ten years.
Upon entering the diner Kurt perused the place from habit—the same eight stools at the counter, two connecting rows of six booths each, and six tables in the front near the window. The only change in the place was the color of the walls, and a large poster of Brad Pitt with sword in hand now hung where an earlier one of John Wayne with rifle in hand had reigned for the eighteen years he’d lived in the town.
The changing of the guard.
The place smelled of boiled cabbage, so he didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out the daily special. Kurt had beaten the dinner rush by about a half hour and the place was almost empty except for a couple and their kids in one of the booths and an old guy sitting at the counter.
The blond waitress who’d been talking to the old man glanced up when he entered. He’d have recognized Gertie Karpinski anywhere. She may have lost her youthful teenage glow, but there was no mistaking “Bare It and Share It” Karpinski. While most girls carried around lipstick, Gertie carried condoms. And in their four years of high school Gertie had lived up to her motto and bedded every guy in the graduating class—even that uptight jerk Cletis Tyler.
He headed for a booth, and could feel Gertie’s eyes on him as he walked over, sat down and reached for the menu.
Surprise! Corned beef and cabbage was the special.
Gertie sauntered over to the booth and put down a glass of ice water, then pulled a pad and pencil out of her pocket.
“So what’s it gonna be, good looking?”
He closed the menu. “How’re you doing, Gertie?”
She did a double take. “Kurt Bolen! I don’t believe it! Where have you been for the past ten years? Hope it wasn’t in the slammer.”
“No. I’ve been seeing the world, compliments of the U.S. Navy.” It was a half-truth. He didn’t mention the CIA. That was one job you didn’t advertise.
“You back to stay?”
“Just passing through. What have you been up to? I never figured you’d hang around Vandergriff after graduation.”
“I’ve been married and divorced a couple times.”
“What about children?”
“Hell, honey, you know I’m too smart to let that happen. Besides, I’d be the mother from hell. What about you? Don’t see no ring on your finger.”
“Same as you, Gertie. I tried marriage, but it didn’t work out. Fortunately there were no kids to get hurt by it.”
Gertie patted his hand. “Guess we’re just not the marrying types. But you sure don’t look any worse the wear for it. Matter of fact, you look great.” She reached out and squeezed his bicep. “Wow! I don’t remember all that muscle.”
Same old Gertie. Totally shameless. But he couldn’t help liking her. He always had. She had a good sense of humor, and in school she’d never put on airs or tried to be anything other than honest about herself.
“So what’s it gonna be, honey?”
For an instant he weighed whether she meant sex or food. He settled for the safer choice.
“Burger with the works and some fries, Gertie.”
“Same old Kurt. I see your taste in food hasn’t changed.” She giggled throatily and leaned over. Her uniform was cut low enough to whet his appetite. “What about women?”
This time her message came through loud and clear. If the cleavage was the appetizer, his groin had begun to ratchet up for the main course.
He dragged his gaze away from her breasts and looked up and grinned. “Women all taste good to me, Gertie.”
By the time Kurt finished reading the newspaper his food arrived. His training kicked in and he automatically checked out whoever came in as the diner began to fill up.
He was finishing up the burger when a young woman entered. The male in him—more than the CIA agent—assessed her as she approached a booth by the window where an older woman and young boy were seated.
She sure was hot. Damn hot! Late twenties with a hundred fifteen or twenty pounds curved lusciously on about five feet seven inches. Soft curls of auburn hair feathered her forehead and nape. His mom used to call it a feather cut, but there was probably some fancy French name for it now. Whatever—his fingers itched to dig into it.
But what really grabbed his attention were her green eyes. They were slightly slanted—that Ava Gardner look that turned a man on with a single glance.
She looked vaguely familiar to him and he figured they’d probably been schoolmates. But the only redhead he remembered from school was Joey Bennett’s sister, Mandy or Mattie, or something like that. And she’d been lanky, wore geeky glasses, and had long kinky red hair.
“Hey, Maddie, you’re not going to believe this,” Gertie yelled out to the new arrival. “Kurt Bolen’s back in town.”
The woman jerked her head around and looked at him. Maddie Bennett. So she was Joey’s sister. Boy, had she changed!
Those jade eyes were wide with shock and she was looking at him as if she’d seen a ghost.
Kurt was too flabbergasted to speak. He smiled and waved. Maddie nodded slightly and then turned her head away.
He ordered a slice of pie and coffee, and as he ate, he couldn’t keep his mind off Maddie Bennett. He’d never rally paid too much attention to Joey’s sister, but still he couldn’t believe the change in her. Some past memory flitted on the edge of his brain, but he couldn’t nail it. What in hell difference did it make? He was out of there.
Kurt polished off the rest of his coffee, threw some bills on the table, and got up to leave. His curiosity got the better of him and he stopped at her booth on his way out.
“How have you been, Maddie?”
“Fine,” she said. Despite her attempt at casualness he could tell she was uptight. “What about you?”
“No complaints. How’s Joey? Is he still living in Vandergriff?”
“Joey’s dead. He joined the marines after graduation and was killed in Afghanistan.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. We had some good times together.”
The older woman extended her hand. “I’m Elizabeth Bennett, Maddie’s Aunt Beth. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Kurt Bolen,” he said, shaking her hand.
Elizabeth Bennett smiled warmly. He was struck by the beauty of the gray-haired woman. Unlike her niece—who at the moment appeared to be so tense she looked ready to pop—Elizabeth Bennett had a serenity that enhanced her loveliness. But regardless, both women were knockouts. The family must have one hell of a gene pool!
“Kurt graduated with Joey and me, Aunt Beth,” Maddie said.
Elizabeth Bennett frowned in concentration. “Bolen? Of course! Was your father Charles Bolen?”
“Yes he was. Did you know him?”
Here it comes: Kurt Bolen, the no good kid from Stoneville, whose father was the town drunk.
“I’m a retired nurse, Kurt. I was on duty the night they brought your father into the hospital,” she said sadly. “Such a tragic accident.”
Changing the subject quickly, she smiled and slipped her arm around the young boy’s shoulders. “And this handsome lad is Maddie’s son Scotty.”
He reached out a hand. “Hi, pal.”
The boy hesitated momentarily, as if he didn’t know what to do. Then, as if pleased with the manly gesture, the boy grinned and shook his hand.
Kurt glanced at Maddie: Uptight and Gorgeous looked like she was holding her breath. And he discovered Elizabeth Bennett was studying him intently. What was with these two women? He had to fight the urge to reach down and check if his fly was open.
“After all these years what brought you back to Vandergriff, Kurt?” Elizabeth Bennett asked.
“Just passing through. I’m being treated at the Vet hospital in Milwaukee and I thought I’d drive out and see the old hometown.”
“Oh, I hope it’s not anything too serious.” Elizabeth’s concern seemed genuine.
“I blew a kneecap, but at least I’m off the crutches now.”
Elizabeth’s face creased with sympathy. “Oh my. I’m sorry to hear about that. It must be painful. So you’re in Milwaukee, you say?”
“I expect to leave there tomorrow and go home.”
“Where is your home?”
“In D.C.” Kurt started to back away. “Well, I better get going. Nice meeting you, Ms. Bennett.”
“Yes, and I hope your leg heals swiftly. Take care of yourself, dear boy.”
“Thank you. Nice seeing you again, Maddie.”
“Yes, take care of yourself,” Maddie echoed.
Her face didn’t crack a smile. Ava Gardner eyes or not, she was one edgy female. But come to think of it, she’d been that way ten years ago, too.
Since she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, she was either widowed or divorced, and he couldn’t help wondering how long it’d been since she’d been laid. With her looks…Oh, hell, grow up, Bolen!
He winked at the boy and departed. Once he was in his car, Kurt realized he’d been so distracted by Maddie that he hadn’t said goodbye to Gertie. Well, tomorrow morning he’d stop in for breakfast and say it then—for the sake of the good old times.
Elizabeth Bennett watched Kurt Bolen walk to his car. A slight limp was perceptible, but he appeared to be coping remarkably well with it. “My goodness, he certainly appears to be a fine young man, doesn’t he?”
“He’s okay,” Maddie said.
Beth eyed her niece warily. “Just okay? Honey, you’re too young for that kind of reaction. He’s gorgeous.”
“And you, Aunt Beth, are too old for yours.”
“I liked him,” Scotty declared.
“What was he like ten years ago?” Beth asked. “He’s too good-looking for you not to have noticed.”
“For goodness’ sake, Aunt Beth, what difference does it make? He’s been gone for ten years. We rarely spoke. I don’t think he even remembered my name. He and Joey hung around together, so that was always trouble looking for a place to happen. Kurt left town right after graduation, and that’s the last I saw or heard of him until a couple minutes ago.”
Maddie reached across the table and squeezed Scotty’s hand. “So have you decided what you’re having to eat, sweetheart?”
“I’ll have a hamburger and French fries.”
“Scotty, that’s all you ever order when we eat out.”
“Hamburger and French fries are my favorite meal.”
Maddie chuckled and tousled his thick growth of dark hair. “How will you ever know until you try something different?”
Beth only half listened to the exchange between mother and son as she watched Kurt pull away in a red Charger. Despite Maddie’s attempt to be casual, Beth could see her niece was still very upset over this chance meeting with Kurt Bolen. This piqued her curiosity. Something here didn’t quite add up…
Beth choked back a gasp when she suddenly realized what it might be, and her mouth curved in a pleased smile. Yes, Kurt Bolen, take good care of yourself. I have great plans for you.
Kurt pumped up the pillow for the dozenth time and leaned back on the bed. The old Laurel and Hardy movie ended and he grabbed the remote and started to channel hop. Television sucked. It bored him royally unless it was a football or basketball game.
Besides, in the six months since his injury, he’d watched enough television to last him a lifetime. He loathed sitcoms, they were an unrealistic picture of family life—at least the family life he remembered. The multitude of crime and horror shows did nothing but demonstrate ghoulish ways to torture and murder. And as for all the alien and paranormal characters, there was no worse monster on this earth than a terrorist with an UZI or a Rocket Propelled Grenade launcher in his hands.
Kurt turned off the tube and tossed aside the remote in disgust. He got out of bed and walked to the window. It was Saturday night and only a little past nine o’clock; the town had rolled up its streets already. Hot time in the old town tonight!
Well he was too edgy to stay cooped up in the motel room. He pulled on his jeans, shirt and shoes and went out. He should have taken up Gertie’s offer at the diner. Instead he’d gotten diverted by Maddie Bennett. Boy that woman was hot! But why in hell did she disturb him so much? There was something about her he couldn’t remember, but it would come to him.
Without any destination in mind, he ended up on Poorman’s Peak, the bluff that overlooked Stoneville’s shanties and railroad tracks where he’d grown up. Kurt parked, then sat gazing down on the site. Light glowed from the factory that sprawled several blocks in length. The second shift was hard at work.
He’d been raised on the “wrong side of the tracks” in the part of town disparagingly called Stoneville, because of the quarry that furnished the major employment for Stoneville’s residents. He’d had no siblings and had run with a tough group of boys. His folks had worked in the quarry and one night in Kurt’s freshman year of high school, his drunk father had staggered in front of a moving train. Two years later his mother had died of lung cancer.
He’d toughed it out alone and finished school. The morning following graduation he’d gone to Milwaukee and enlisted in the navy, got married three years later and six months after that went through a bitter divorce.
The United States Navy had been his salvation. It had steered him on a course away from the gutter he’d been heading into and toward becoming a Navy SEAL and ultimately a member of the CIA’s Dwarf Squad. It had given him the close brotherhood and inviolable friendships of the other squad members. Now faced with the possibility that the squad would be disbanded, he feared the loss of a family again.
There was no kidding himself. That was the real reason for his irritability, his impatience and disgust with everything that crossed his path. The writing was on the wall. Sure as hell RATCOM was going to be disbanded. His family was going to be busted up.
Kurt sighed and looked down on Stoneville. Yeah, for damn sure there wasn’t anything sentimental about this “sentimental journey” home. First thing in the morning he’d climb into his car and Vandergriff, Wisconsin, would see the last of him. This time for good.
Just as he turned the ignition key to leave a car drove up and parked a short distance away.
As he backed out, the headlights of his car revealed the driver of the other car. He recognized Maddie Bennett at once. What in hell was she doing up here alone? Waiting for some guy, no doubt. And he was probably married. Why else would they meet up here unless they didn’t want anyone in town to see them?
Well, uptight or not, it figured if she wasn’t still married there’d be some guy banging her. The thought disappointed him. Why did a gal with an angel face and Ava Gardner eyes have to settle for making out with a married man in the seat of a car?
Suck it up, Bolen. Not your problem. Your problem is that you’re not the guy she’s waiting for.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.
