Not his business, he reminded himself. His only business was in protecting Tommy and finding out who had killed Michael and Grace.
Caleb noticed his hands were fisted and forced himself to unclench his fingers.
Never had he felt so helpless, so powerless. That wasn’t something a Delta soldier was comfortable with. Give him an enemy to defeat, a munitions dump to take out, a rescue mission to perform, and he was your man. He knew what he was doing in the field.
Time had given him regrets. It had also forced him to accept the truth about himself. He had deserted Michael when his brother needed him the most, not because he believed he could save the world—no soldier who had served believed that after the first day of combat—but because he was good at what he did. Because he relished the challenge. Because when he did the job right, he felt good about himself.
Was that so terrible to want to feel good about himself? His childhood had been spent knowing he hadn’t measured up, would never be able to redeem himself after letting his baby brother die. Wasn’t he entitled to have this one thing to feel good about?
He hadn’t exactly deserted Michael, Caleb reminded himself. Michael had sent him away, the harsh words he’d uttered still echoing in Caleb’s mind. It was scant comfort, though, when he struggled to accept that his brother was dead.
Forcibly, he pulled his thoughts from the mire of pain, and, without volition, returned them to the feisty bodyguard.
“You’re staring,” she said, and he realized she’d turned back to face him.
Her words jerked him back to the here and now, and he wondered if he’d imagined the roiling emotions he’d read in her gaze only moments ago. “Sorry. I was trying to get a handle on who you are.”
“No problem.” Shelley lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug, but the intensity in her lovely gray eyes belied the casual gesture. “What you see is what you get. Ex-cop, ex-Secret Service agent.”
He had a feeling there was much more to Shelley Rabb than that. She thought fast on her feet, kept her cool under fire and didn’t back down from a challenge. She said what she meant and meant what she said. The old saying described the woman perfectly. There was no pretense about her, but he sensed a well of pain beneath the no-nonsense exterior.
“What about you? You’re Delta. What about the man under the soldier?”
Caleb had no answer to that, at least none that he was willing to share. He’d buried the part of him that wasn’t a squared-away soldier long ago.
“Is there someone special?”
“Not anymore.” The words were out before he could think better of them.
“What happened?”
“You ask a lot of questions, lady.”
“Comes with the territory. If you don’t want to tell me, say so. My feelings won’t be hurt.”
How did he explain what had gone wrong between him and Tricia to Shelley when he could scarcely explain it to himself? He’d met his former girlfriend on one of his rare leaves home. She was beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated. It was obvious that she was going places. And she wanted to take him with her.
Through an encounter with a buddy who worked in the private sector, Caleb had learned that Tricia had interviewed for a job with an oil company and that her getting the job was contingent upon his signing with the company, as well.
Not wanting to believe it, he’d confronted her.
“I’m sure your friend misunderstood,” Tricia had said with the smile that had bewitched him into silencing the little voice that had so often told him she had been lying to him from the start.
“The only misunderstanding was in my believing that we had something real. I was just your ticket to a six-figure job.”
“Darling, what difference does it make why they want you? We’ll have such a great life,” she said with forced gaiety. “You can name your own price. Security is a hot ticket in the business world.
“You did your time for your country. Now it’s time to do something for yourself. You could go anywhere, do anything,” she said with another winning smile. “Delta’s holding you back. Together, we make an unbeatable team.”
He’d shrugged off her hands and looked at her with something akin to revulsion. “That’s where you’re wrong. We’re not a team. We never were.”
Caleb had known it was over from the moment she’d lied to him. Without trust, there was nothing. He’d put his faith in the wrong woman. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Shelley hadn’t said anything while he took a stroll down memory lane, and Caleb resisted the urge to squirm under her unwavering gaze.
“It didn’t work out, okay? I moved on.” He shrugged, as if to say it hadn’t mattered. But it had.
“You don’t owe me any explanations.”
“What about you?”
Her laugh was hollow, her smile congealed. “Let’s just say it’s complicated.”
Complicated could mean a whole bunch of stuff, he reflected. But from her tone, it was clear she didn’t want to share that whole bunch of stuff, so he swallowed his questions.
He figured Shelley would share when and if she was ready.
A chunk of silence slipped by as darkness enveloped him. Caleb didn’t attempt to sleep during those quiet hours. Arms folded behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling. It didn’t feel awkward to spend the time listening only to the soft sound of Tommy’s breathing and to absorb Shelley’s presence.
Despite her energy, she had a restful quality about her. He appreciated it, and it didn’t take much figuring out to know why. His life was filled with noise and action, and though he had chosen that life, couldn’t imagine another kind, he found solace in the quiet shared with this beautiful woman.
He wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek. The knowledge pulled him up short. He had no business thinking of Shelley in any role except that of bodyguard.
He shook off the uncharacteristic reflections and wondered at their next move. Shelley was a top-notch operative, but despite her prowess, the threat hadn’t stopped.
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Why come after a seven-year-old boy? Because Tommy knew something? But he was certain Michael wouldn’t have shared anything about his work with his son. So what made Tommy so valuable?
Caleb gave a snort of disgust. Speculating was worse than useless, especially when he lacked information. He was no closer to having any answers than he’d been a day ago.
His heart clutched. “Lord, what am I going to do?” he whispered hoarsely. His voice scratched against a throat raw from unshed tears, his words releasing more pain than he’d felt in a long time.
Not even in Afghanistan when his unit had taken fire from all directions and they’d lost three men had he felt so completely helpless. With incoming fire pouring from the surrounding mountains, he and his unit had sought refuge in the scant shelter of a rock overhang.
Slugs ricocheted off the rocks behind and to the left of him and his men, and Caleb felt bits of shrapnel striking all around him, deadly pellets that tore through and destroyed flesh. The machine guns had to be spitting out .50 caliber ordnance, each round the length of a man’s finger and undoubtedly armor-piercing.
It wasn’t hard to determine the weapons used against him and his unit, not with the supersonic sound made by the guns and the distinctive muzzle flash. And then there was the unmistakable vapor trail of a .50 caliber. Once you’d seen one, you didn’t easily forget.
It was a slaughter. Only by the grace of God had he escaped with his life. Others hadn’t