Make Mine a Marine (9 page)

He pushed her away.

Abruptly, BJ found herself sitting on the ground beside Brodie's prone figure. With an awkward lack of grace, he pushed himself up to a sitting position facing her.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Fury raged darkly in his turbulent eyes.

“What the hell was I doing? I saved your life! Someone tried to kill you.”

“He was trying to kill you!”

BJ scrambled to her feet, searching for the note. She plucked the torn paper from the spot where it landed and returned to Brodie. She knelt beside him, ignoring the stinging wound on her leg, shoving the paper at him. “I found it under your windshield, 'Mister Attack Me Now When I'm Already Scared To Death' Maxwell. Somebody doesn't want you to help me.”

With one hand, he unballed it and quickly read the contents, muttering a string of expletives when he finished. Just as quickly, he stuffed the note into his pocket and reached for BJ's hand. Slower to cool than he, she resisted at first. Then she looked into his eyes and saw the dramatic change there. Dark like worn steel, she discovered. When he let something besides his anger show, he had the most beautiful, unusual eyes she had ever seen on a man.

She softened under that unique gaze and clutched his hand in return. “I didn't want you to get hurt.”

“They can't hurt me.”

“Of course, you can be hurt. Look at your…scars.” She finished badly, hoping he wouldn't anger and pull away from her again.

He only shook his head. “Promise me you'll never do anything that foolish again. Don't ever jeopardize your safety for me.”

He leaned forward, cutting off her protest with a kiss. His touch was strong and sure, filled with a mixed message of compassion, lust and warning. BJ clung to him, needing his mouth on hers, needing his secure presence to make her feel whole.

Brodie pulled back all too soon, leaving BJ shaken and wanting more. “Promise me,” he rasped.

“Are you two all right?”

The rest of the world invaded BJ's private moment with Brodie when Emma knelt beside them, followed by Jasmine just a step behind. Shutters of ice closed over Brodie's eyes again before he answered.

“Call 911. I want somebody out here to check BJ as soon as possible.”

“You, too.”

Emma nodded. “I'll get right on it.”

When Emma left to make the phone call, Jasmine took her place. Her blue eyes shimmered with worry. “I'm so sorry about getting the programs mixed up. To see it publicly displayed must have been a shock.”

“It's not your fault,” BJ assured her.

Brodie intervened. “It's tangible proof your ideas have been pirated.”

“Yeah.” If she and Brodie hadn't just been run down by an oversized Buick, she might have smiled. But there were still too many problems to solve. “What's the purpose of showing the game? The thief can't make any money off it now.”

Brodie squeezed her hand again. “It's a display of power. His over yours.”

“His? You think it's a man?” Brodie's expression shifted a little, as if he wanted to say more. “What?”

A low hum of voices interrupted before Brodie could answer. BJ looked up and saw several party guests coming out the back door, curiously moving closer to find out what had happened.

Jas looked over her shoulder, then back at BJ and Brodie. “I'll get them out of the way. You two work this out, okay?” She gave BJ a quick hug. “I leave tomorrow for Tokyo, and I don't want to be worrying about you.”

“I'll be fine.”

Jas patted Brodie's right shoulder before leaving to dispel the crowd of onlookers. “Make sure you have that arm looked at.”

“Your arm?” Fear stabbed BJ. “What's wrong with your arm?”

She moved closer, inspecting first his right, then his left arm. A gasp of sympathetic pain escaped. A pool of blood dripped into the grass beneath the shredded left sleeve of Brodie's jacket.

“Oh, my God.” She ripped the rest of his shirtsleeve to expose his wound. She clamped her teeth together to keep from retching at the sight of the ghastly injury. Brodie's arm lay contorted at an abnormal angle. A tattered sliver of bone protruded from a wide gash near the joint. “A compound fracture.”

“It doesn't hurt much.” He tried to push her hand away, but she continued to work at picking loose threads from the ripped material out of the wound. “I'm all right.”

“Don't be so brave about it. Let me help.” BJ pushed against his shoulders to get him to lie down again.

“I said I'm all right!” The harshness of his tone shocked BJ into stillness.

“You need a doctor.”

“Trust me. I'll be okay.” BJ searched his face for some kind of explanation, but the harsh landscape revealed nothing. Brodie cradled the broken arm in his lap and studied the injury himself.

After a moment, he wrapped his powerful hand around the wound and began to compress the area. He only grunted once as the broken arm snapped back into place.

She cupped his face and rubbed his shoulders, touching him, comforting him wherever she could. Chivalry might include some rule about hiding your true feelings, but even a man of Brodie's stature and bearing had to feel excruciating pain. “What can I do to help?”

“Just forgive me. And try to understand.”

Her forehead wrinkled at the odd request. “Understand what?”

When he looked down at his forearm, BJ did the same. She looked back up into apologetic eyes, then down at the awful wound.

She pulled her hands away from him, too stunned to speak coherently. “What…?”

“BJ—”

“No!” She jerked away from his outstretched hand, no longer comforted by his touch. She pinched herself, trying to wake from this horrible, ongoing nightmare.

“BJ, I can explain.” He had been rough before, dangerous and mad as hell. Now he pleaded with her, a desperate note shading the deep rumble of his voice.

She refused to see the pain in his eyes, the loss registered there. She could only stare at his arm, dumbfounded and disbelieving.

In a span of seconds, right before her eyes, the blood ceased flowing from the open gash. The rip in his skin narrowed, then fully closed. A pink ridge formed where the gash had been.  Then the puckered skin turned whitish gray and sunk into his forearm, leaving a new, perfectly healed scar.

Brodie flexed his fingers and made a fist, testing the once-damaged arm. Then he reached out, tentatively, lifting that same hand to her face.

“Don't touch me!” BJ scooted away from him on her backside, leaving his outstretched fingers suspended in midair.

“Don't be scared of this. I can explain.”

BJ shook her head. Her brilliant mind couldn't comprehend the miracle she had just witnessed—a miracle as maddening and frightening as the thought of an unknown tormentor snatching thoughts right out of her head.

“Who are you?” she whispered, feeling betrayed and humiliated by the creature before her. “What are you?”

Chapter Five

BJ ran. Through sculpted hedgerows and thorny rose beds she ran. Into a stand of dogwood trees, denuded of its flowers by the summer's heat, she ran. If she could run fast enough and far enough, she could escape the nightmare.

But how did you escape a giant who thundered after you in the night?

The sounds of the building storm blended with the sounds of Brodie crashing through the trees behind her. The first raindrops hit her face mere moments before he grabbed her arm and yanked her to a halt.

He swung her up into his arms, absorbing every kick and scratch she doled out. She pummeled him and fought for escape. She couldn't hurt him. Her foolish, futile struggle couldn't hurt him one bit.

Hot tears ran side by side with chilling rain down her cheeks. She had passed over the edge into insanity. There could be no other explanation for Brodie Maxwell. As she accepted that fact, a peaceful calm shivered through her, leaving her spent and silent by the time Brodie deposited her into the dry warmth of his Explorer.

“BJ, can you hear me?”

He climbed in the driver's side, dripping water onto the upholstery. Peripherally, she saw him reach for her, but draw his hand back.

“I am so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't prepare you for this.”

BJ stared at the windshield, entranced by the waterfall streaming down the smooth glass. Brodie's heavy sigh brushed across her ears without a response. He reached around her and buckled her into her seat, careful not to touch her. He started the engine and turned on the wipers, clearing her path of vision so she could see into the lightning-shattered darkness.

“I'll take you home.”

BJ climbed out of the vehicle herself when they reached her front door. Brodie hovered around her, but didn't touch her. He pushed the buttons and opened the door for her. She walked through the living room and kitchen to the back porch. Duke greeted her, full of love and acceptance and furry, tongue-licking reality.

She cradled him in her arms, rocking and loving him as if he were a baby, for a long while before Brodie's gruff voice made her tense. “We need to doctor those cuts and scrapes. And get you dried off and into bed.”

Like a drugged patient dutifully obeying her nurse, BJ walked through the house to the bathroom. She sat while Brodie dug through drawers and cabinets to find first-aid supplies. Duke nestled in her lap, situating himself so he could keep an eye on Brodie.

BJ flinched at the first sting of peroxide on her shoulder and the dog growled.

“Sorry, boy,” said Brodie, “but I need to do this.”

With amazing gentleness for someone with such big hands, Brodie tended her shoulder and the scrape along her leg that ran from above her knee to her ankle. He applied cooling ointment and covered the worst part of the wound with a gauze bandage.

“Too bad I don't heal as quickly as you.”

At the sound of her flat voice, he looked up from where he knelt beside her, a light of hope flickering and dying in his eyes. “I guess that's not a joke.”

“Guess not.”

He stood, taking several seconds to straighten to his full height. BJ experienced no fear or intimidation at his towering presence. Crazy women didn't get scared.

She rose obediently when he touched her elbow, though he quickly released her when Duke nipped at him. “You need dry clothes.”

They went into her bedroom. BJ waited and watched Brodie open the drawers of her dresser, searching through her things for pajamas. He returned with a pair of panties and a Cubs jersey.

“Here.” She looked at him, unmoving. He dropped the clothes on the bed when she didn't take them. Hesitantly, as though unsure where to start, Brodie grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up past her waist. Duke barked and Brodie dropped the material, stepping back.

“A little help?”

She tossed Duke onto the bed. “Sit.” The dog minded, then she lifted her gaze to Brodie. “Go ahead.”

Her compliance surprised him, she could tell. Good. Let there be at least one small thing she could do to knock his world off kilter.

His eyes darkened to shadowy pools. Testing him gave her a small measure of control. She was making him pay for earning her trust and then shattering it, and he knew it. The impatient, fortifying breath through his stiff lips proved that.

Brodie pulled her blouse up over her head and dropped it beside her. The air on her damp skin raised goose bumps. But she didn't move to rub them away.

He turned her by her upper arms and reached for the fastening of her strapless bra. His calloused fingertips teased her spine, hovering about the clasp.

With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled away from her. “Don't make me do this.”

“You're my protector. Take care of me.”

“Damn it, BJ. You think I'm some kind of a monster, but I'm not. I'm a man. I know I hurt you, and believe me, I'll pay for that. But don't, please don't taunt me like this. Don't punish me because I'm different.”

She turned and looked at him then, fully conscious and fully aware of the heat from his gaze sweeping over her and then fixing on her upturned face. She could hurt him, after all. He wasn't invincible. She had the power to hurt him.

Some of her fighting spirit struggled to the surface. It went against her nature to knowingly cause anyone pain. “I want to understand, Brodie. Please help me understand.”

A little of the tension eased from his expression. Tentatively, he touched his fingers to her cheek. When she didn't recoil, he traced the mark of her dried tears down to her chin. He tipped her head back and lowered his mouth to hers. Firm lips touched hers with gentle reverence. Her lips softened beneath his, trading apologies.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes shone with silvery promise. “In the morning, when you're stronger, I'll try to explain. But not now. You've had one shock after another tonight. You don't need to deal with anything else.”

BJ nodded mutely and watched him leave, closing the door behind him. Shivering, she quickly shed her wet things and put on the clothes Brodie had chosen for her.

She scooped Duke up and crawled beneath the covers, curling around her warm companion. The summer storm surrounded the house, enveloping it in a cocoon of rain and rolling thunder. She tried to make sense of all that had happened, and felt deliriously inept in the attempt.

She let the warm power of Brodie's kiss and the sheltering protection of her loyal pet lull her to sleep.

How could she explain the impossible, anyway?

How could he explain his life to BJ? Brodie tucked the ends of a beach towel around his waist and ran a brush through his hair. Then he crossed the hall into the spare bedroom he had bunked in and pulled some clothes out of his duffel bag.

The early morning shower refreshed him physically, but the self-recriminations that had plagued his sleep still weighed heavily upon him. Scenes of a black sedan bearing down on BJ replayed on an endless loop in his head. His worst nightmare had nearly come true last night.

The image of BJ so close to death was relieved only by the memory of her going into shock after witnessing his miraculous healing capabilities. That damn note. She thought someone wanted to kill him. How did he tell her that no one could kill him?

Brodie pulled on his jeans and tied on a pair of work boots. Then he tugged a black T-shirt over his head and tucked it in. His regular clothes were a lot more comfortable than the civilian uniform he usually wore on a case. What did it matter now that the scars showed? He couldn't exactly hide the truth from BJ now—even if she wouldn't believe it. And nobody else's opinion mattered.

He picked up the tattered remains of his jacket and carried it to the kitchen trash can. The damn thing was too hot for a humid Missouri summer, anyway.

Brodie poured a cup of coffee from the automatic maker and sipped the hot liquid, trying to piece together the words to adequately explain himself.
A long time ago…Nah. Do you believe in sorcery? An age-old enemy has followed me through time. Hell, no. BJ's a woman of science and mathematical logic.

“I can't talk to her about magic,” he said aloud.

The sound of his voice in the quiet kitchen triggered a growl and some scratching from the other side of the back door. That frou-frouey little guard poodle sensed his unusual presence again.

“Shut up, dog.”

That earned him a bark. “Listen, dog, you'll wake up BJ if you don't quit your yapping.”

Brodie strode to the door, feeling grumpy and frustrated enough to do battle with the little mutt. His hand was on the doorknob when common sense finally whacked him over the head.
The mutt sleeps with her.

He plunked his coffee mug on the counter and ran to BJ's bedroom. He didn't knock. He didn't announce himself. He threw open the door and looked inside.

Her bed was empty.

It was neatly made with that mountain of stuffed animals piled on top. She must have gone while he was in the shower. She'd snuck away from him before he had a chance to tell her anything.

Brodie ran to his room and grabbed the dagger and sheath from the nightstand. He strapped it to his belt and charged out the door.

He didn't bother checking the garage for her truck. He knew where she had gone. He jumped into the Explorer and floored it as soon as the engine turned over. Once he hit the highway, he called Emma on his cell phone to get directions.

Emma plied him with questions, but Brodie hung up without answering them. If everything BJ told him about herself was true, he knew exactly where she had gone. If the man he had met last night wasn't a hallucination, he knew where to find her.

That knowledge transformed into a tidal wave of fear that tightened his gut like a vise.

BJ hugged herself, looking out the window of Damon's plush office at the spectacular view of the Missouri River near downtown Kansas City. “I don't think he meant to hurt me. Maybe I overreacted because of all that's been going on.”

Damon found the tight spot at the base of her neck and massaged the tension from her shoulders. “I agree with him that broadcasting a pirated program was a ploy to show power. But I can't help but think this Maxwell isn't the right person to help you. You said he did 'weird' things last night. What exactly do you mean?”

BJ didn't quite know how to explain what had happened.

His hands stopped the massage. “He didn't harm you, did he?”

BJ laid her hand over his and turned into his concerned gaze. “No. Nothing like that.”

Damon studied her a moment before clicking his tongue and leaving to pour them both a glass of bottled water. BJ trailed behind him and sat on his high-backed brocade sofa. She kicked off her shoes and curled her feet beneath her. Damon twisted a slice of lime into her glass and handed it to her.

By the time he sat across from her, she had prepared for his fatherly reprimand. “Mr. Maxwell struck me as nothing more than a brute last night. I daresay he's the kind of professional you need helping you right now.”

He plucked at the seam of his summer-weight wool trousers, trying to appear detached, but BJ knew he was anything but. Damon rarely said or did anything without a plan. “You know I have several contacts in the medical field. I'd be happy to arrange a meeting for you, without any publicity that could damage LadyTech's reputation.”

She took a cool, tangy sip before responding. “We've already had this discussion. You know my answer.”

“Then what about loaning you one of my technicians?”

“Damon,” she stopped him, “what are they going to find that I can't?”

He laughed then. “Of course. Nobody can outsmart you where computers are concerned.”

BJ joined him, finding the laughter a welcome respite. “You make me sound like some annoying know-it-all.”

“You'd only be annoying if you had the ego to go along with your talents.” Damon patted her hand on her knee, then grasped it in a brief display of emotion. “You are too caring and too amusing to annoy anyone.”

She squeezed his hand in return. “Try telling that to Brodie. I seem to be making a lot of wrong turns with him.”

Damon set their drinks on the coffee table, then captured both her hands in his. “Fire him. If he does strange things you can't tell me about, and makes you so edgy that you come running to me first thing in the morning, then he can't possibly be helping you. I know how terrified you've been. If this man has problems, get rid of him.”

BJ considered his advice. True, she didn't need the emotional upheaval Brodie had brought into her life right now. He scared her. He was too secretive and mysterious for her to trust completely. Yet she did trust him to a degree. He hadn't harmed her. If anything, he had gone out of his way to protect her.

He listened to her ramblings about her childhood. He witnessed two episodes and still hadn't called the funny farm to come pick her up. He tended her wounds and put up with her dog.

He kissed her with swift, uncontrolled passion that woke her to the mysteries of womanhood, and with tender, bittersweet reverence that made every bone and fiber within her pulse with feminine awareness.