recent divorce, but as I'm sure you must know, time does heal all wounds, except those that kill you, of course."
Macie blinked. She didn't know whether to be insulted first, or run to spread this juicy bit of news. She opted for the news.
"Yes … well … thank you, I'm sure," she said, giving Cara a fierce glare.
Cara returned the look, still wearing her smile. Macie was the first to look away.
"I'd better get back to my table," Macie said. "I think my order has arrived."
"Enjoy," Cara said.
Cara's eyes were glittering as she turned to David.
"Cara, honey?"
"What?"
"Remind me never to make you mad."
She started to grin. "Why?"
"Because you shed blood better without weapons than anyone I've ever seen."
She tossed her head and then smiled primly. "Thank you. It's part of the gift of being a woman."
"Old enemies are often the most difficult to dispatch," David added, thinking of Frank.
"She had an affair with Ray. They thought I didn't know."
David's heart twisted. So many things she'd had to endure, and all because he hadn't come home. This time, he was the one reaching for her hand.
"This time, it's me who's saying I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "You didn't do it. You have nothing to apologize for."
"Oh, but you're wrong," he said softly. "It's what I didn't do that has caused the most hurt."
Before she could answer, their food arrived and the tension of the moment dissipated.
"Hot beef sandwich and tuna salad, coming up," the waitress said, setting the hot plate of thinly sliced roast beef on toast points with thick brown gravy in front of David and the plate of cold tuna salad on lettuce in front of Cara. "Eat hearty, folks, but remember to save some room. You don't want to forget that dessert."
David laughed.
It filtered through Cara's anger, leaving her weak and breathless. It had been so long since she'd heard that remarkable sound.
"This looks great," David said. "I don't remember the last time I had this."
He dug in with relish, rolling his eyes in appreciation.
Cara smiled and tucked into her own food, all the while thinking about cake and sex with the marvelous man at her right.
----
Chapter 4
« ^ »
F rank Wilson slammed the phone down in disgust. So far, no amount of money had been able to buy him any pertinent information on where his baby brother had gone. David had disappeared as thoroughly as he had when he'd first come back from Vietnam. He frowned as he stared across the room. He didn't like not knowing where his enemies were. It left him defenseless, and he didn't like being weak.
Abruptly, he strode to the window overlooking the street below. East L.A. was an easy place to get lost in. Cash bought anonymity here. Identification was unnecessary for renting rooms or cars if enough money changed hands. Despite all that, the fact that he was still in the United States was dangerous. He'd messed with Uncle Sam's elite, and even though he'd gotten away, he'd ruffled far too many feathers to think they'd brushed him off.
His frown deepened as he absently stared at the people on the street below. There were too damned many people in this world and not a one of them knew their hand from their ass. The longer he thought about it, the more convinced he became that that was what was wrong with his plans. No more trying to get to David through other people. He'd taken eleven runs at the man and come up empty-handed every time. The next time it happened, it would be himself and David—face to face.
Next time.
In frustration, he suddenly slammed his fist against the window ledge, and in doing so, jarred his shoulder, sending a barrage of pain up his neck and to the back of his head. What if there was no next time?
Cursing the infirmity that caused him pain, he turned away from the window and moved to the bed to lie down, telling himself that he would find David. It would happen—when he was ready. He had no desire to face him again until his gunshot wounds weren't so tender. Another day or
Macie blinked. She didn't know whether to be insulted first, or run to spread this juicy bit of news. She opted for the news.
"Yes … well … thank you, I'm sure," she said, giving Cara a fierce glare.
Cara returned the look, still wearing her smile. Macie was the first to look away.
"I'd better get back to my table," Macie said. "I think my order has arrived."
"Enjoy," Cara said.
Cara's eyes were glittering as she turned to David.
"Cara, honey?"
"What?"
"Remind me never to make you mad."
She started to grin. "Why?"
"Because you shed blood better without weapons than anyone I've ever seen."
She tossed her head and then smiled primly. "Thank you. It's part of the gift of being a woman."
"Old enemies are often the most difficult to dispatch," David added, thinking of Frank.
"She had an affair with Ray. They thought I didn't know."
David's heart twisted. So many things she'd had to endure, and all because he hadn't come home. This time, he was the one reaching for her hand.
"This time, it's me who's saying I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "You didn't do it. You have nothing to apologize for."
"Oh, but you're wrong," he said softly. "It's what I didn't do that has caused the most hurt."
Before she could answer, their food arrived and the tension of the moment dissipated.
"Hot beef sandwich and tuna salad, coming up," the waitress said, setting the hot plate of thinly sliced roast beef on toast points with thick brown gravy in front of David and the plate of cold tuna salad on lettuce in front of Cara. "Eat hearty, folks, but remember to save some room. You don't want to forget that dessert."
David laughed.
It filtered through Cara's anger, leaving her weak and breathless. It had been so long since she'd heard that remarkable sound.
"This looks great," David said. "I don't remember the last time I had this."
He dug in with relish, rolling his eyes in appreciation.
Cara smiled and tucked into her own food, all the while thinking about cake and sex with the marvelous man at her right.
----
Chapter 4
« ^ »
F rank Wilson slammed the phone down in disgust. So far, no amount of money had been able to buy him any pertinent information on where his baby brother had gone. David had disappeared as thoroughly as he had when he'd first come back from Vietnam. He frowned as he stared across the room. He didn't like not knowing where his enemies were. It left him defenseless, and he didn't like being weak.
Abruptly, he strode to the window overlooking the street below. East L.A. was an easy place to get lost in. Cash bought anonymity here. Identification was unnecessary for renting rooms or cars if enough money changed hands. Despite all that, the fact that he was still in the United States was dangerous. He'd messed with Uncle Sam's elite, and even though he'd gotten away, he'd ruffled far too many feathers to think they'd brushed him off.
His frown deepened as he absently stared at the people on the street below. There were too damned many people in this world and not a one of them knew their hand from their ass. The longer he thought about it, the more convinced he became that that was what was wrong with his plans. No more trying to get to David through other people. He'd taken eleven runs at the man and come up empty-handed every time. The next time it happened, it would be himself and David—face to face.
Next time.
In frustration, he suddenly slammed his fist against the window ledge, and in doing so, jarred his shoulder, sending a barrage of pain up his neck and to the back of his head. What if there was no next time?
Cursing the infirmity that caused him pain, he turned away from the window and moved to the bed to lie down, telling himself that he would find David. It would happen—when he was ready. He had no desire to face him again until his gunshot wounds weren't so tender. Another day or
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