Alive at 5 (Entangled Ignite) (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

Zack ran to the front door of the mobile home, ripped it open, and flew out without so much as a good-bye.

“He’s leaving?” Hot rage burned through Sam.
Oh, hell, no
. He wasn’t going to abandon them again. She jumped off the couch and raced to the door as it swung shut. She managed to stop it seconds before it crushed her fingers. “What did you find out? Where are you going?”

“Meet me back at the motel.” He yelled as he ran toward his car. “I’ve got to do something.”

She stumbled down the steps after him, catching her stiletto in a crack in one of the wooden stairs. “I’m coming with—” She fell forward, using her arms to steady herself.

The car engine fired up.

“Tell me what you saw in the DVD. Zack!” His car peeled out of the dirt driveway, kicking up dust in her face. Furious, she stomped her foot and her expensive heel sunk into the damp earth. She almost toppled over.
Damn it!

George loped down the steps behind her. “Well, I guess you’re riding back to the motel with me.” He threw an arm around her shoulders.

She glared at him.

He was grinning. Of course. Just like him to think this was funny.

Just as she was conjuring up a good smart-ass reply, her cell phone buzzed. She ripped the phone from her purse. “This is Sam.” She knew her voice sounded testy. If it was Zack, she wanted him to know she was pissed off.

“Sis?”

Oh no.
Instantly, she shifted gears. Panic assaulted her.

Her sister never, ever called unless something was wrong. Or she needed money.

“Sam? Are you there?”

“Yes.” She could barely breathe, her chest heaving from alarm, and the effort of running after Zack.

“I have bad news and I have bad news. Which do you want first?”

…

Sam sprawled in a lounge chair by the motel pool, watching the amber fingers of dawn reach out across the horizon through slitted eyes.

She sucked down her second Diet Coke and prayed the caffeine would make her mild headache melt away. Unfortunately, the stimulant also sped up her heart.

God, what was she going to do?

She still couldn’t believe the nursing home intended to kick her mom out. Her invalid, comatose, fragile, incapacitated mother was going to be dumped on the sidewalk in days if Sam didn’t find a way to pay the overdue bill. Her stomach clenched. Money. It came down to that. It always did.

She’d been paying a discounted rate, thanks to Maxwell who failed to make provisions for this in the event of his death. Great men think they’ll never die. Of course, the home wanted her mother’s bed for someone who could pay the full amount. Now.

The metallic fizz of the soda surged up into her throat. She spit on the ground, and fell back again onto the lounge chair while squeezing her eyes shut. She’d been waiting for Zack to “meet her at the motel” for hours.

She fingered the stack of papers on her lap. Thanks to Stuart, her detective friend, the Pasco County Medical Examiner’s office had emailed the report on Maxwell Wentworth’s cause of death to her late yesterday. At least one mystery had been solved. She could go back to Tampa now that the ME had ruled Maxwell’s death accidental.

“My father used to beat me.”

At the sound of Zack’s voice, she twisted in her lounge chair. Even in the dark of early morning, she recognized the silhouette of those long, lean legs and well-built shoulders. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting for hours.”

“Did you hear what I said?” He ran a hand over his short hair.

She struggled to control her chaotic emotions. “I—” Something about his father? “I’m tired and hurting, Zack. I barely slept.”

The red and orange rays of sunrise gave her enough light to see that his clothes were wrinkled, his face drawn, and his posture slumped as if he’d spent the night wrestling with demons, too. What a pair they made.

“I said my father used to beat me.”

She heard him this time. Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh.”
Crap
. “I’m sorry. That—”

“I’ve never told anyone other than my uncle.”

She stared at him, speechless, jumbled thoughts speed-racing through her mind.

He finally broke the silence. “I promised you if you gave me an hour, I would tell you everything. Including about my uncle. To understand how much I loved Jackson Hunter, you have to first understand how much I
hated
my father.” His voice cracked.

She couldn’t even speak. The headache and the lack of sleep had exhausted her, and the emotional impact of Zack’s words left her depleted. This was not what she’d expected. She needed to leave and head for home, but she couldn’t force a single muscle in her body to move.

He walked over to the closest lounge chair and dragged it next to hers. The iron legs scraped the pool deck, but she didn’t flinch. He sat down and stretched his long legs until his feet rested under her chair.

She couldn’t stop staring at him. He smelled musky, like he hadn’t showered. His troubled, bloodshot eyes bore into hers, and she couldn’t look away.

“I remember the sound of my father’s footsteps at night, coming down the hallway to my room. His expensive dress shoes would make a brittle sound against our hardwood floors. I could tell by the dragging sound of his shoes when he’d been drinking.” Zack snorted. “He drank almost every night.”

“Oh, Zack.”

“I always wondered how a man could be so smart and successful by day but so fucked up at night.” His gaze dropped to his hands. They clenched and unclenched repeatedly. “My father would walk into my room, stop at the doorway, and stare. I used to hold my breath, pretending to be asleep, praying he’d just leave. Even without looking, I could feel his energy. I knew when the alcohol had made him angry and when it had made him sad. On the good nights, he’d stay awhile and then go to bed without touching me. On the bad nights—” His whole body stiffened.

His hurt washed over her like an incoming tide, leaving her mind spinning.

His head fell into his hands and a wounded sound erupted from him.

She got up, dropped the ME’s report on a table, and sat next to him, rubbing his back, tentatively at first.

He didn’t acknowledge her. Nor did he push her away.

What had happened after he ran out of Rita’s mobile home last night that brought him back to her this morning pouring emotion like water from a broken levee? Whatever it was, she wouldn’t ask, because she was finally getting to know the
real
Zack Hunter, and she didn’t want prying questions to shut him down again.

His head still in his hands, his voice sounded muffled. “My uncle found the bruises I tried to cover up.”

She leaned closer. “From your father’s beatings?”

He nodded, his head bobbing in his hands. “Jackson rescued me from that hell. He used every excuse in the book to pry me away from my parents. Eventually I went to live with him. I was ten at the time.” His back was military rigid.

She moved back. “Didn’t your mother help?”

He ran a hand slowly over his chin. “Let’s just say, neither my father or my mother missed me very much.”

She swallowed, understanding all too well how a parent’s rejection wounded you. Her father had never even made the effort to meet her. Not one phone call, not one card, not one single inquiry her entire life. She totally connected to Zack’s desire to veil the pain. Sometimes hiding the hurt was the only way to bury the shame and make it through another day.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

He waved his hand as if dismissing the horror of his last statement. “Jackson took me into his home and taught me about living. He taught me and my cousin Josh, to scuba dive, to skydive, to golf. He made it okay to laugh and have fun. He taught me to let go and live. He rewarded my good grades, and paid attention to me when I offered an opinion. He
rescued
me.”

And yesterday, he’d watched that beloved uncle die.

“I lived with him, my aunt, and Josh, on and off for about five years.” His features hardened. He stared off at some distance place. “I finally returned home a man. My father couldn’t hit me anymore, so he started in with the verbal abuse. He was relentless, which was probably how he built such a thriving business empire. He never cared who he hurt.”

She reached out to hold his hand, but she couldn’t pry his clenched fist apart.

He pulled away. “No, let me finish. I need to get this all out.” He shook his head. “Despite hating me, I guess my father always expected me to take over the family business someday. To spite him, I joined the Army the day after I graduated from that fancy, expensive private school he made me attend. I became a grunt. A
nobody
. My father never told his friends. The thought of an enlisted man in the family embarrassed the hell out of him.” He stretched his arms above his head, a satisfied smile moving across his face. “I loved every minute of it. I thrived in boot camp, probably because I was so used to being beaten down. I excelled in training.”

“If you enlisted, how did you become an Army Ranger?”

“My uncle rescued me once again, this time using his influence to get me into Special Forces training at Fort Bragg. I took college courses online.”

A perfect fit, she thought. A young man with his issues could jump out of airplanes, run survival drills, and learn how to murder the enemy, working the anger and hatred out of his system in a productive way.

His face clouded over. “While I was fulfilling my obligations to the military and transitioning into law enforcement, the family feud had become legendary in New York. Finally, Jackson orchestrated a hostile takeover of my father’s company. You know the rest—you looked it up.”

“Sounds like your father and uncle literally wanted to kill each other.”

Their eyes locked. After a heartbeat, Zack dropped his gaze.

She swallowed. “You don’t think your
father
would really have paid someone to kill your uncle, do you?” Who was she kidding? Domestic situations ended in murder all the time, in trailer parks and in mansions. She reported the awful truth every night on the news.

He ignored her question, but this time it didn’t appear to be intentional. He was staring at the pool as if mesmerized. “Jackson was always an adventurer at heart. He decided to take a break from the chaos and go on an X-Force Adventure Vacation. He asked me to go with him. I said no. I had just lost a partner on a dive at work and I was right in the middle of dealing with that accident, both personally and professionally.” He shook his head. “Truth be told, I just didn’t want to get in the middle of another family battle.”

“So, Jackson went alone.”

“Yes.”

This time, when she reached for his hand, he didn’t pull away. His fingers found hers and they entwined, his grip fierce. “And you think if you had gone with your uncle, you could have prevented his death?”

“I wouldn’t have let Jackson go off alone on that dive.”

“Zack. Stop.”

He looked up, and his need to be rid of his guilt poured over her.

A strong wave of yearning swept through her. She longed to be the one to make him whole again. “You have to forgive yourself.” She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Your uncle would have never wanted you to blame yourself for his death.”

In slow motion, he reached out and returned the gesture, touching her face and brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. A twist of emotion went through her, the feeling so intense it held her breath hostage in her lungs. But honestly, part of her was still afraid to get too close, still sure that he’d hurt her. Even though she now understood what was driving him, he was still a runner. And she couldn’t handle someone else abandoning her because she wasn’t good enough.

He moved his hand to the back of her neck, his fingers caressing her hairline. “I give in.”

“What?” Her nerves felt on fire.

“I want you to help me.”

“Of course I will.”

She could feel his warm breath on her lips.

“I don’t want to do this alone.” As his mouth found hers, she closed her eyes. His lips pressed down on hers with fierce longing. His kiss was not gentle. He opened her lips with his tongue, and she tasted him.

She hesitated, a thought pulsating in the back of her mind.
Oh, hell
.

He forced her mouth to move under his. His other hand pressed her backside forward, urging her to move closer. He ran his hands under her shirt, his fingers leaving a burning trail up her side.

She wanted to touch him, feel the hardness under his shirt, ease the ache building in her center, but she held back.

He must have sensed her hesitation. His lips stilled and he pulled away just enough to look into her eyes. “Samantha?”

“I’m sorry.” And truth be told, she was. Sorry for so much. Sorry she’d even attempted to do a live shot after Maxwell’s death. Sorry she’d lied to get permission to be on this adventure vacation. Sorry she’d ever doubted Zack. Sorry she’d chosen work over her mother. Sorry for so damn much. “I—I can’t. I have to go home.” She choked on the last words. “Today.”

…

“What?” Zack pulled back, holding her by both shoulders. He couldn’t have heard her right. She was leaving?
What the hell?

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, looking devastated.

He couldn’t stop himself from digging his fingers into her flesh. He didn’t know which was worse, the ringing in his ears or the throbbing in his groin.
Jesus.
Please don’t do this
. “What’s wrong?”

He knew it. He should never have opened up to her.

She seemed to recoil from him. “I shouldn’t have promised to help. I really have to leave. This morning.” She dropped her gaze.

Was she repulsed that he wasn’t perfect, but damaged, forever fucked-up goods?

He sat back, surprised at himself. He should be happy about this. A few days ago, he had wanted her out of his way so he could do his job.

A lot had changed in forty-eight hours.

“Is this because I left last night?” He hoped that was it. He couldn’t blame her for losing faith in him after that. But something inside him had cracked. Watching his uncle die and decoding the message his uncle had recorded as he slowly ran out of air had broken him.