The Men In Uniform Collection. Barbara McMahon
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‘Can we stay together, Clint? I don’t think I can do this alone.’ Her breath shuddered as she inhaled deeply. ‘I need you with me.’
That was a momentous admission and they both knew it. Regardless of what tomorrow would bring, regardless of what had just happened between them, right now in this moment she needed Clint by her side. Telling him felt less like an admission of weakness and more like a proclamation of strength. She frowned. In his eyes, triumph blurred with passion and something else.
He snaked his arm around her waist and pressed hot lips to her freezing ones. It was like a shot of air under water, filling her with strength and purpose. They would go on…together.
She looked to her left when he released her. ‘What’s that way?’
He cleared his throat. ‘The lowland dams. But it’s a hard scrabble in that direction. Let’s take the right. It comes out on higher ground near the cockatoo roost site. He’s more likely to have—’
Romy reeled back. ‘The cockatoos! Oh, Clint…he’s gone after the cockatoos.’ She filled him in on their bit of detective work earlier in the evening. ‘He’s been rattling on about undercover surveillance lately. What if he’s gone to check it out? He could be walking into anything…’
‘Then we’ll deal with it as it comes. It’s a good lead, Romy. And when we find him—’ not if ‘—you’ve been there so you should be able to find your way to the road and home.’
Home. With Leighton in her arms and Clint by her side. It was a bright, miserable dream. Except…
‘Alone? Where will you be?’
He turned her back towards him. ‘Romy, we don’t know what sort of situation we’ll find Leighton in. When the time comes, I don’t need you second-guessing my instructions. That will only waste time and put him at more risk.’ He took her chin and stared down into her eyes. ‘I asked you once before if you trusted me. Now I’m asking again. To do whatever I tell you, no questions asked. Can you do that?’
She nodded.
‘Say it out loud, Romy. You have to mean it.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Whatever you think of my expertise, I’ve never doubted yours, Clint. I’ll do whatever you say.’
The look he gave her would have crumbled the granite behemoth blocking their way. But there was no time to say more than a few words.
‘Let’s go get our boy back.’
Her throat was too thick to speak, so she nodded, blinking back tears. Crying is not going to get Leighton home. It was just like her father’s voice but softer. More feminine.
Her voice.
Maybe it always had been? She tugged her pack higher onto her shoulder, turned to her right and followed Clint’s courageous, broad back into the bush.
Within fifteen minutes, Romy’s instincts were proven. The two of them lay crouched in the low scrub, peering out onto the clearing of the cockatoo roosting site, staring at three men and two vehicles. The GPS told Romy they were right on top of her son, but where was he? The doors to a blue ute hung open, affording her a view clear through it. No Leighton. Either he was in the white sedan or he wasn’t here, only his backpack was.
She tried not to think about that.
Clint’s hand slid over hers as though he’d heard her thoughts. He squeezed it gently and she flipped hers over and laced her fingers firmly through his. His strength anchored her just as she was getting ready to tumble away into panic.
His other hand rose up to her lips, his index finger silencing her, his line of sight moving to where the men busied themselves at the base of a particularly large jarrah tree. It was the best opportunity they were going to get. Whatever they’d taken Leighton for, their attention was well and truly off the ball now.
Clint drew her with him back into the trees. Her body resisted retreat even though her mind knew she’d promised to follow orders.
Hot lips pressed near her ear. ‘Leighton’s in the white sedan,’ he said, and her round stare flew to the larger vehicle. Sure enough, she could barely make out the top of a shaggy head in the back seat. Her heart leapt.
Clint held her back. ‘I’m going to create a diversion and you’re going let Leighton out and get the hell out of here,’ he whispered.
Romy’s eyes snapped back to his. ‘I don’t think I can—’
‘You can do anything.’ His focus held hers. ‘You can do this. I will be right behind you. I won’t let anything happen to either of you.’
The raw confidence in his expression infected her. She almost believed him. ‘Okay.’ She nodded. Then, more certain. ‘Okay.’
He kept speaking, softly into her ear. ‘Once you’re clear I don’t want you to look back. Keep moving until you reach home. Then lock yourself inside until help arrives.’
Help. Not until I come for you. But she’d promised not to question him.
He breathed in deeply, filling himself with her scent. To Romy, it was too close to goodbye.
He must have seen her refusal coming. ‘I’m holding you to your promise, Romy. I know I’m the last person on the planet you feel like trusting—and after the things I said earlier, I deserve that—but it means I’m also the last person you should be risking your son’s safety for.’
Lord, didn’t he know he was the only man she would ever risk her son’s safety for?
A muscle twitched high in his jaw and Romy realised how hard he was working to master his fear. She remembered something her father had said once, about courage. That it wasn’t the absence of fear, it was taking action in spite of it.
She’d never met a braver, better man.
She nodded, suddenly determined to put on a valiant face. For him. ‘We’ll be fine.’ She hoped her smile didn’t look as watery as it felt.
His gaze burned into hers. ‘I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d have more faith in. I believe in you, Romy. I’m counting on you to get Leighton safely home. It’s going to be scary but do it for me.’
Romy swallowed past the lump in her throat. As far as she knew, he was about to take on three potentially armed men with nothing but his bare hands.
I love you. She burned to say it. Knew she never could. Instead, she leaned forwards and kissed the corner of his mouth with her own trembling one. His eyes drifted shut and his hand crept up to cup her cheek. Then she smiled tightly, turned her focus onto her son and started moving.
Don’t look back. Of course that was never going to work; but when she did, at the edge of the clearing, the edge of no return, Clint had already disappeared. She crawled arm over arm along the dirt until she found herself in the shadow of the white sedan. Every part of her was shaking with uncontrollable tremors. She heaved in a breath and hoisted herself to a squatting position, peering inside the rear of the vehicle. Her little boy sat crouched