Bring Him Home Read online

  She wondered if Zander had broken the news yet or if she’d have to. Once she could have predicted Nate’s reaction. Now…

  Claire hugged herself as she heard the front door open. Now she didn’t know him anymore.

  * * *

  “You’re still up.” Catching sight of her as he opened the front door Nate smiled, but his brown eyes radiated a cold anger.

  Zander had told him.

  Claire returned a conciliatory smile. Then he shouldn’t have lied to her. “I said I’d wait up.” She noticed that his dark hair was disheveled, his tie hung loose and his immaculate white shirt was half undone. “Are you…drunk?”

  “I don’t get drunk.” Nate slipped the suit jacket off, threw it at the coat stand and missed. He wore a gun holster. “More like comfortably numb.”

  “I hope you didn’t drive.”

  “No, we caught a cab.” Half turning, Nate held out his hand. “Pia, come meet my stalker.”

  “Mia,” corrected a female voice. Disbelieving, Claire stared at the tipsy goddess, all curves and collagen lips, who grabbed Nate’s hand and stumbled inside.

  Knowing how important it was to settle this, he’d brought a pick-up home?

  “Mia, meet Claire. Claire, meet Mia.”

  “I don’t do threesomes,” Mia said flatly.

  Nate laughed. “You’ve gotta love Hollywood. It’s okay, babe, Claire’s a friend…married to my best friend.” Freeing his holster, he removed the cartridge from the gun, then opened the hall cupboard, revealing a small safe. “I know in this town that doesn’t mean much, but in our circle it’s a very big deal. Well, maybe not too big a deal since Claire has screwed me…metaphorically speaking.” Depositing the weapon, he slammed the metal door shut. Hard.

  Claire took a deep breath. “Nate.”

  He smiled and wagged a finger at her. “All this talk of understanding, when you intended playing Zander’s heartstrings all along. He says I have to do my dooty…that’s how Americans pronounce it, dooty. There’s some irony in being lectured on doing the right thing by a guy notorious for putting himself first.”

  Mia laughed. “That is funny.” She fondled his chest, clearly oblivious to his real mood.

  “Almost as funny as you lying to me about tour dates,” Claire said evenly.

  “I promised Mia a private party, so we’ll discuss this tomorrow. C’mon, babe, let’s find a drink.”

  “I’ve been hitting on this guy for months,” Mia confided happily to Claire as Nate ushered her past. “Talk about hard to get.”

  “You’re telling me.” Claire followed them to the kitchen. “You could have avoided this, Nate,” she pointed out. “I sent letters, my lawyer sent letters…. You’re not the only one struggling with Steve’s and Lee’s deaths.”

  He had his back to her, opening cupboard doors. “All due respect, Claire, you have no friggin’ idea what I feel.” He passed Mia a couple of glasses.

  She wanted to shout, Steve was my husband. But that would crack her self-control and she needed those shields. “You agreed to be a trustee,” she reminded him quietly. “All I’m asking is that you do your job.”

  “Here it is,” he said, holding up a Jack Daniel’s bottle.

  “You guys aren’t acting much like friends,” Mia ventured.

  “Sure we are.” Nate flashed Claire a hard smile. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll lend you whatever money you need to bring the boat up to spec. That will take the pressure off selling the house. And I’ll sign any papers your lawyer sends me. But no one pushes me into doing what I don’t want to, Claire. Not even you.”

  Her throat tightened. “That’s not good enough.” She needed to make her own way, follow new dreams, since following the ones she and Steve had shared was no longer an option.

  “That’s my best offer.” One arm hooked around Mia’s waist, the other hand clutching a bottle of JD, he headed for the stairs.

  Mia glanced over her shoulder with a worried frown. “Are you all right?” she said to Claire.

  Her mouth started forming an automatic yes. “No. The last six months have been hell. My son’s been getting into trouble and I’ve had to move him away from his deadbeat friends.” She hated resorting to emotional blackmail, but Nate had left her no choice. “And I really need Nate to talk to him about Steve’s death.”

  Shocked, Mia stopped. “Your husband’s dead?”

  Dropping his hand from her waist, Nate turned and looked at her. “He died almost immediately after impact,” he said harshly. “There’s nothing to add.”

  “And I’ve told Lewis that. We all have. But Dan wasn’t on patrol and Ross can’t remember a thing. You are the only eyewitness. I understand it’s difficult for you, but he needs to talk to you about his father’s last hours.”

  “No.” His hand tightened on the balustrade. “I’ll pay for counseling.”

  “What?” Unable to believe his callousness, Claire stared at him.

  His gaze fell from hers. “And you can have my share of Heaven Sent,” he added. “Consider it an apology for your wild-goose chase.”

  She didn’t think he could hurt her more. He’d rather buy her off than spare a measly few days helping get her and Lewis’s lives back on track. He was going to ignore the emotional welfare of a thirteen-year-old boy, a kid who’d idolized him.

  Mia kissed Nate’s cheek approvingly. “Aren’t you sweet.”

  Something broke in Claire. “You selfish, insensitive son of a bitch! For months I’ve been making excuses for you to my son and stopping your mates from coming over here and dragging you home. ‘Give him time,’ I said. ‘He’ll come back to us.’ You think it doesn’t hurt that our friendship died with Steve?”

  Nate stood perfectly still, his face white under his tan, Mia wide-eyed beside him.

  “Do you think I enjoy having to swallow my pride and chase you halfway across the world?” The dam had broken; she couldn’t stop the deluge of words even if she’d wanted to. “It’s been a year and a half since the ambush, and you’re telling me that I can’t move on with my life because you’re grieving? He was my husband, Nate.”

  “Claire.” He took a step toward her and she held up a hand.

  “My husband. All I want to do is take control of my finances and protect my son.” Tears prickling her eyes, she turned to Mia. “Can’t you see he’s only using you to avoid dealing with me? The war hero is a goddamn coward!”

  Mia opened her mouth, closed it. Nate stood frozen to the spot.

  She had to get out of here. Holding tight to her anger, Claire stormed out of the house, remembering too late her bag was still in the kitchen. She’d walk along the beach until they went to bed, then sneak back and gather her stuff, because she wasn’t going to spend one night under her former friend’s roof. At least she still had Nate’s spare key.

  She heard hurried footsteps behind her. “Claire!”

  Blindly she kept marching along the canal path. “Go to hell.”

  “Come home, Claire.” Nate tried to take her arm and she shook him off.

  “Not until I’m good and ready…. Go exploit poor Mia.”

  “We decided she could do better than me…. And you can’t go walking around here at night,” he added patiently. “It’s not safe.”

  She hadn’t even considered that. Her anger deflated, leaving only a bone-deep weariness. What was she going to do now? Her footsteps slowed and then stopped. She looked at him, but the streetlight was behind him and his face was in shadow.

  “I’ve been selfish,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Too little, too late.” Claire returned the way she’d come. This time he knew not to take her arm.

  “How many days are we talking about?” he asked as they reached his house.

  Relief was a lump in her throat. “I figure two, maybe three at most.”

  “I don’t want anyone to know I’m in the country.”

  Her heart sank.

  “That means Lewis too,�
�� he said, spelling it out.

  She’d had to rip a scab off a wound to make him do this. She wouldn’t show vulnerability again. “You’re in luck. He’s at Dan’s for the school holidays.”

  “I can’t tell him anything he hasn’t already heard from you.”

  “Any other conditions?” she said coldly.

  “No.” The exterior light illuminated a stranger’s face. “That about covers it.”

  Chapter Four

  “If you’re not going to eat that…”

  Nate handed Claire the bread roll and cheese from his barely touched airline tray. Under different circumstances he might be amused by her appetite. She’d already eaten his complimentary cashew nuts, along with her own.

  “Anything else you want?” It had been a long time since he’d flown cattle class, but she’d refused to let him upgrade her to first, telling him to go ahead and book for himself.

  Much as Nate needed the space, he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy Air New Zealand’s premier service while she sat in economy.

  Accepting the roll, she eyed his dessert—a slice of blackberry cheesecake. He drained his glass of wine and indicated her unopened 187 ml bottle of merlot. “Swap you,” he suggested.

  Claire passed it over. “Hair of the dog?” Her tone was carefully neutral.

  “It’ll help me sleep.”

  “I have a homeopathic remedy.”

  “Hell, no,” he said feelingly and they shared an involuntary smile. Claire had once given Steve a sleeping tincture for the unit. The smell of the stuff alone—a cross between a decomposing rat and a flatulent elephant—had made everyone gag. The pilot of the Hercules had dropped altitude solely to jettison the bottles into the Pacific.

  “It’s odorless,” she promised.

  Nate unscrewed the cap on her wine and refilled his glass. “This will do fine.” Her lips tightened. Good. A buffer of disapproval made this whole thing easier. After the ambush, alcohol had helped counter his chronic insomnia, but since moving to the States he’d only needed it on the first anniversary of the ambush. And when his old life collided with his new life.

  “You didn’t used to drink so much.”

  “You didn’t used to eat so much,” he countered. “Though God knows you need to.”

  She concentrated on digging a spoon into the creamy filling.

  Nate wanted to kick himself. “Sorry. I can’t see a slender woman now without worrying she’s got an eating disorder.”

  Claire glanced at his tray. “Give me your mint chocolate and I’ll forgive you.”

  He surrendered it, holding on to the silver wrapper until she looked at him. “You’re still beautiful, Claire,” he said awkwardly.

  She shrugged as if to say it wasn’t important now, and Nate changed the subject. “If you’re going to be a skipper you must have renewed your qualification?”

  “Yes, I’m certified again. Do you remember Dad’s fishing partner, Uncle Dave in Northland? Lewis and I holidayed with him and Aunt Sally last Christmas and I skippered on his charter to bring my hours up.”

  “So Lewis is keen to be involved?”

  “Hell, no!” She gave that deep-throated chuckle that always made Nate smile because it came from such a slight frame. “He already thinks I’m a slave driver for making him clean his room occasionally, let alone swab decks and handle bait. No, Lewis is concentrating on improving his grades.”

  “He’s having problems with his grades?” The kid had always done so well in school.

  “His old friends placed a low value on education—they decided it was cooler to skip classes. But the headmistress of his new private school is confident that between us, we’ve got him back on track with his studies.”

  She’d put down her spoon. Casually, Nate said, “How’s the cheesecake?”

  Claire refocused on her plate. “Excellent.” She picked up her spoon again. “So there’s no point regretting the swap now.”

  “Did you apply to the SAS trust for Lewis’s school fees?” The unit had a support system for bereaved families.

  “I’ll see how it goes,” she said vaguely.

  Nate frowned. “That’s what the trust’s for, Claire.”

  “And I’ll get them involved if I have to,” she said with finality.

  Claire finished his dessert, and shot him a sidelong glance as she peeled the plastic off the cheese. “You probably wouldn’t recognize Lewis, he’s grown so tall over the last year. I have a few photos on my phone.”

  Resisting the urge to tell her that trying to draw him into the family circle wouldn’t work, Nate accepted her cell. For a moment he didn’t recognize the gangly youth standing next to her in the picture. “He’s as tall as you.” The child had been replaced by a teenager, with the half smile of someone embroiled in the desperate battle between cool and shy. His blond hair was Claire’s, but he had his dad’s hazel eyes. Nate couldn’t meet them.

  “It was taken at Dan and Jo’s wedding,” she said. “There are a few shots there. Flick through,” she invited.

  He did so reluctantly. Jo was the picture of a radiant bride; her groom a bedraggled, bruised mess with a beaming smile.

  “What the hell?”

  “Jo had Dan dropped in the wilderness with twenty-four hours to get to the wedding.” Claire munched her crackers. “She wanted to convince him of her faith in him. I don’t entirely understand her logic, but Dan did, so that’s all that matters. He’d been beating himself up about not being with you guys through the ambush. But he’s better now.”

  And just like that she’d tricked him into caring. Why wasn’t I told Dan was in trouble? Biting back the question, Nate blanked his expression and returned the cell.

  Because he’d never asked.

  “You were missed at the wedding, Nate,” she said. “You and Jules.”

  Lee’s fiancee. Searchers had found their missing gunner’s remains the next day, spread-eagle over a boulder. The insurgents had packed explosives under his corpse and the approach of the retrieval crew detonated a trip wire. Two more men died. There was nothing to retrieve of Lee except one of his boots, found a few meters away. One of the local allies picked up a fingertip, which confirmed his DNA.

  He refilled his plastic wine goblet, then pushed the call button. “How is she?” he heard himself ask. The hostess arrived before Claire could answer. “Another bottle of red, please.”

  The brunette hostess glanced at the two empty bottles on his tray and then instinctively at Claire.

  She shrugged. “I wish I had some influence, but I don’t.”

  Flustered, the other woman murmured, “Let me get that for you, sir,” and left.

  Claire speared him with those Viking blues. “Jules is struggling—like all the survivors. But we’re a support group for each other. Maybe you should try it.”

  Nate scowled. “Remember our deal. No one knows I’m home.”

  “Jules is my lawyer, Nate. You’d know that if you’d opened her mail.”

  Shit.

  “But don’t worry.” Claire bit into her cheese and cracker with a snap. “I’ll be sure to tell her we can’t care about you anymore.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  The hostess reappeared with a third bottle. Claire turned her attention to the in-flight romantic comedy, leaving Nate alone with the drink and his thoughts.

  No man left behind.

  He’d intended to carry Ross to relative safety and return. But in his heart he’d known there’d be no second chances. Risking his own life was one thing; risking Ross’s another. Steve had played on that and Nate had let him. And left him.

  Now all he remembered was the spark of relief when the decision was taken out of his hands. He didn’t want to die. I was only obeying orders. How many times through history had culpable men said that?

  The day he’d been awarded a valor medal was the second-worst day of his life. Thank God he’d resigned from the service before it was approved, otherwise he’d have been stuck
with the military’s highest honor, the Victoria Cross. As a civilian, he’d escaped with the New Zealand Cross. A bravery medal for a coward. And even if he wasn’t a coward, he hadn’t deserved recognition.

  A hero would have found a way to save both.

  The rattle of a service cart pulled him out of his dark reverie and he realized the air hostesses were clearing dinner. Nate put up his tray table and settled his thin pillow against the window after a fruitless attempt to get more incline from his seat. Claire glanced at him, but didn’t try to reengage him in conversation. She was learning.

  Closing weary eyes, Nate tried to rest. He’d had a busy morning briefing his stand-in. Fortunately, he job shared Zander…no one could handle that ego 24-7…and it had been relatively easy to talk his counterpart into covering him for a few days. It had been much harder to find a volunteer bodyguard for his women’s-shelter work. He fell asleep to the soothing hum of the B747 engines.

  The dream was always the same. He was behind the wheel of the Humvee, trying to outdrive a pursuing foe, bumping and jolting through pitch-dark terrain, terrified and straining to see. Everyone was there…. Dan, Lee, Ross and Steve, unconscious and bloody. Only he could save them…except he was driving blind. He felt the vehicle lose terra firma….

  Nate woke with a low groan, his temple pounding, and struggled to reorient himself. The cabin lay in darkness. Here and there the dim flash of screens indicated the insomniacs watching in-flight movies. He tensed as the cabin rattled under another pocket of turbulence. No wonder this dream had felt so real. A blanket lay over his legs. About to push it off, he realized his hand was intertwined with Claire’s.

  Turning his head, he saw her curled beside him, watching him anxiously. That someone had witnessed his distress hit him like an electric shock. Dismay must have shown in his face, because she closed her eyes, giving him privacy.

  But her fingers tightened on his.

  Nate suffered her comforting clasp a couple of minutes before he freed his hand. By then, his forehead was beaded with sweat.

  * * *

  Arriving in his homeland at dawn was another torture. The Kiwi accents in passport control stabbed Nate with nostalgia.