completely agreed. Yet he didn’t want his sister to worry. “There you go, conjuring up your Celtic dark side.” He put his arm around her and gently guided her toward the stairs. “Get some rest while your patient sleeps. Wake me in a few hours and I’ll take over.”
Bridget shot him a look over her shoulder. “Don’t think you can dismiss me this easily, Liam. For all we know, we may be harboring a fugitive. She might be putting us in danger.”
“Or she’s an innocent victim who needs our help.”
Bridget blinked back a rush of sudden emotion. “The trouble with you, Liam, is you’re attracted to danger. You always have been, even when you were little.” Her voice was sharp and accusing. “Why can’t you enjoy a normal job? Your friends Al and Francie love adventure, too. But they joined the police force. At least they can have a family life, live here on the island. No, my brother has to chase danger all over the globe—” Her voice broke and she turned away.
Liam knew that his teammate’s death had affected all his sisters, but Bridget was the most sensitive. Her husband was Stewart’s brother, after all. Yet Liam knew her anger would be piling up between them unless he faced this straight on. “Bridget, I’m not Stewart. You heard him say that when a bullet has your name on it, there’s nothing you can do.”
She snorted. “Do you really believe that? Do you think his wife and daughter believe that? I know you and your partners at TALON-6 have tried to make it up to Liz and Bailey. Paying for Bailey’s education and looking out for her under everyone’s watchful eye while she works as a receptionist for TALON-6 is very noble. But don’t you think Bailey and her mother would rather have Stewart back in a heartbeat than—” Her eyes narrowed and she took a deep breath. “Dear God, I didn’t want to get into this, but now that I have—” Bridget’s eyes glittered with anger. “You know what I think? I think Stewart was a selfish bastard who never grew up. His place was with Liz and Bailey, not on a secret mission in some Colombian jungle fighting the—” Her anger gave way to tears, and she swiped at her eyes. “Damn it, Liam. You were right there with him. It might have been you when that rocket fired—”
He drew her into a hug. “Liz knew who Stewart was when she married him. She loved him anyway.”
Bridget pulled away, then took a hankie from her sweater pocket and wiped her eyes. When her tears had stopped, he added, “I don’t want you to worry, but I can’t live your play-it-safe life just because you and the family want me to. If you can’t accept me for who I am, sis, then I’m sorry. But I’m very good at what I do. I’ve been trained by the best our government has to offer. Since I’ve joined TALON-6, I can protect innocent people against the most inhuman situations.”
She swallowed. “You’re also a hopeless adrenaline junkie.” She forced a weak smile. “Of course I’m proud of you, Liam.” Her lips twisted. “I’m just so afraid for you.”
He squeezed her hand. “Trust me.”
Bridget shot him a look. “I better get back to our patient.”
He sighed as he watched her climb the stairs. Damn, he loved her, but how could he expect his sisters to understand? Thank God he’d made the choice never to marry.
Most people didn’t understand the covert operations so necessary in today’s world. How could they? Most of the top-secret surveillance equipment he’d designed was unknown to the general public. Information technology was of prime importance to military power, and working for agencies like TALON-6 provided him the opportunity to do what he did best. But Stewart had understood.
Liam’s stomach clenched like a fist as the memory of that Colombian night four years ago slammed into his brain. As though it were yesterday, he could still feel the sweat drip down his body, smell the rotting, fecund earth and hear the screeching of monkeys in the treetops as the TALON-6 team slipped silently through the dark, wet jungle toward the guerilla camp of the National Liberation Army, or ELN.
In record time, they’d wended their way past sleeping and half-drunken guards, to rescue the DEA agent held prisoner. Once they had cut the man loose from his cage, they’d carried him back, retracing their path through the mountains.
Like clockwork, the night op had gone successfully, according to plan. Too successfully, they’d soon discovered. As the team had crisscrossed the jungle on ancient footpaths, an ambush was waiting. Stewart, in rear guard position, his .308 Remington 700 sniper rifle held to his shoulder, had shuffle-stepped backward, waiting to draw a bead on the first ELN guerilla who showed himself. For an exceptionally large man—six foot five and two hundred eighty pounds of muscle—he’d moved deceptively fast.
Within three hundred yards of where their Blackhawk helicopter waited, a Russian B-40 rocket had sailed overhead and, with an earth-shattering blast, made a direct hit on the tree beside Stewart. Wood splinters and shrapnel had sliced the predawn air in a bloody dance of death. Moments earlier, Liam would have taken the hit.
He had made the first move, opening fire with a steady hail of bullets from his M-60. “We’ve got to get Stewart,” he had screamed as strong arms dragged him aboard the copter.
“He’s gone, Liam,” the team officer, Mike Landis, had said.”
“No, we’ve got to bring him back.” Liam had turned to leap out of the open hatch just as the copter lifted and swerved, narrowly missing another rocket.
The explosion had lit up the ground, revealing scores of guerillas in camouflage fatigues swarming from the jungle. Gunfire had strafed the gray dawn as the Blackhawk pulled away from what was now a burning inferno.
Their mission had been successful. The TALON-6 team had rescued the DEA agent from ELN.
Liam closed his eyes. Four years. He’d thought he’d gotten past the haunting memories that were burned into his soul. Maybe he never would.
Was Stewart a junkie who’d needed an even higher dose of adrenaline to keep feeling good? Or had he taken on the dangerous jobs and fed off the danger to get the job done? And would a real adrenaline addict be able to tell the difference?
WHEN LIAM RETURNED to the living room awhile later, the collie was stretched out on the couch, ears pointed, claiming his territory. “Okay, Bounder. Get up. You’re sleeping on the porch.”
The dog studied him as Liam walked to the porch doorway and pointed to the stuffed rattan settee. The collie bounded playfully on the couch, as if enjoying the game.
Liam’s gaze dropped to the scuffed running shoes lying on the mat. Her shoes. He picked up the right sneaker and examined it. A small pocket, fastened with Velcro, ran along the top of the padded tongue. He ripped open the fastener. There, inside, was a key with a tag. His curiosity rose a notch as he moved toward the living room light and peered at the tag. Sand Dune Motel, 26.
So the mystery lady was staying at the only motel open this time of year in Bellwood. He slid the key into his hip pocket as he strode toward the telephone directory in the hall desk drawer.
Chapter Two
She opened her eyes and stared at the white ceiling. Far off, birds were chirping. She turned her head toward the sound. Tie-back white curtains fluttered at the slightly opened window. The air felt cold and smelled of the sea. She tried to sit up, but when the pounding in her head got worse, she dropped back on the starched pillowcase.
Her
