Someday Soon (3 page)

Slowly her intensely blue eyes left the X rays to connect with his. “What agency were you with?”

“None. We’re mercenaries.”

“Doing what?”

He shrugged, unwilling to give her any more information than necessary. “What we were paid to do.”

“I see.”

Cain watched her reaction, surprised that she revealed none, at least none he could read.

“How many reconstructive surgeries has your friend been through?” It was back to business, and Cain was impressed with the casual way in which she responded to the information.

“Ten surgeries in the last eighteen months.”

She motioned to the X ray. “When were these taken?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“What’s your friend’s mental state?” she asked before handing him back the film.

“About what you’d expect,” he said evasively. Mallory had already gone through a handful of therapists. The latest hadn’t lasted more than two days.

“In other words he’s depressed, angry, and has done his best to shut out the world.”

Cain felt his lips quiver involuntarily with a smile. “Something like that.”

“I’m not a miracle worker, Mr. McClellan.”

“All I’m asking is that you give it a shot. I’m willing to pay you top dollar.” More if need be. Mallory was a good friend, damn good. Perhaps the best Cain had ever had. He hadn’t left him in the jungle to die, and he wouldn’t desert him now, either.

“It isn’t a question of money,” Francine returned smoothly. “It has to do with grit and spirit. I’ve been a therapist several years, and I’ve seen a number of cases similar to your friend’s here. At this point he doesn’t care if he lives or dies. What happened to his body can’t compare with the damage done to his soul.”

Cain was amazed by how accurately she’d analyzed Mallory’s emotional state. “Can you help him?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s up to him,” she said thoughtfully. “I can make a more accurate assessment once I meet him.”

“Great.” Cain eagerly sprang to his feet. “Let’s take care of that right now.”

A brief smile brightened her plain features. “Have you told him I’m coming?”

Cain hesitated. “No.”

“Good.”

“It’s probably better he doesn’t know you’re a therapist,” Cain suggested, preferring to delay another of Mallory tantrums. The minute his cohort learned that he’d hired another therapist, there was sure to be trouble.

“We won’t be able to keep it from him long,” Francine said evenly. “He’ll figure it out soon enough.”

She was right. One look at this titan of a woman and Mallory would know exactly why he’d brought her to meet him.

From the glint in her deep blue eyes, Cain guessed this was a woman who thrived on challenge. All the better, because Mallory was going to demand every ounce of fortitude she possessed.

He led her through the house he’d rented on Russian Hill. Taken with the panoramic view of the Bay, Cain had also liked the countrylike lanes and terraced houses. Perhaps he was thinking the atmosphere would help Mallory, but if that was the case, the high rent area had been an expensive mistake. Mallory had made a prison out of the back bedroom.

Greg, Mallory’s attendant, was leaving the room as they approached. He looked from Cain to Francine and then back at Cain.

“He’s having a bad day,” Greg announced. His expression suggested they’d be better off returning at a later date.

“As long as he’s in the shape he’s in now,” Francine said without waiting for Cain to respond, “every day’s a bad day.”

Greg smiled and nodded. “Good luck,” he said as he stepped away from the door.

Cain knocked once and walked inside without waiting for a response. The room was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Mallory was sitting in the corner farthest from the door, with a blanket over his legs. The once robust man had lost seventy pounds in the last year and a half. His eyes had shrunk back into his head, and his hair was long enough to brush his shoulders. At a glance, he looked like hell. Cain wanted to shout at him, tell him to snap out of this, but he wasn’t the one with a shattered hipbone and a knee that had been blown all to shit.

Cain could walk out of this house. Mallory couldn’t stand up, let alone walk. It was easy to make judgments from this side of a wheelchair. Feeling helpless, Cain did what he could, but it seemed like damn little.

“I’m not in the mood for company,” Mallory muttered.

“I brought someone for you to meet,” Cain said. It would take more than a sour mood to get rid of him.

“Another time, perhaps.” Mallory’s voice was strained, the frustration and anger leaking through the words.

Francine moved away from Cain and reached for the light switch, flipping it on. The room was instantly bathed in a warm glow.

Automatically Mallory’s hands went to shade his eyes,
and he cursed under his breath. Cain watched as his friend’s angry glare connected with the therapist’s gaze.

“Hello, Mr. Mallory,” Francine said brightly, “I’m Francine Holden.”

Mallory glared disdainfully at Cain as if he’d stabbed him in the back. “Get rid of her.”

“Now, Mallory—”

“I said get rid of her.”

“I could get offended, but I won’t,” Francine said, chuckling. Cain swore he heard a tinge of glee in her laugh and loved it. This was going to work out far better than he’d hoped.

“We’re going to become friends, Mallory,” Francine said. “Real good friends. For the next two months, I’m going to stick to you like glue, and when I’m through with you,” she said, firmly planting her hand on her hip, “I guarantee you won’t be sitting in a dark room with a blanket over your head to close out the world.”

Mallory ignored her. “All I want is peace and quiet. Is that so much to ask?” he demanded. Cain could almost feel the anger emanate off Mallory in waves. “It’s the season, you know.”

“Your muscles can’t wait while you sit around feeling sorry for yourself.” Francine lowered her gaze to his mangled left leg, peeking out from beneath the blanket. Mallory covered it quickly. “Every day without therapy, you risk never regaining the use of that leg. You want to walk again, don’t you?”

For the first time Mallory focused the full force of his attention on her. “I don’t need you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve never needed anyone more in your life.”

Mallory responded with a low snicker.

“We’ll get started first thing this afternoon,” Francine announced, speaking to Cain. She pushed up the sleeves of her thin sweater as if she could hardly wait to get going.

“Cain?” Mallory pleaded silently for assistance, but Cain purposely looked away. A minute passed before a string of abusive threats colored the air.

“I’m pleased to see you have such an extensive vocabulary,” Francine said. “I imagine you’ll be using it over the next couple of months. Judging by those X rays, this isn’t going to be easy. I promise you one thing, you’ll never work harder in your life. But by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be walking. Now,” she said, her words bright and cheerful, “are you man enough to accept this challenge, or do you want someone who’ll tuck you in at night and read you bedtime stories for the rest of your life?”

“Cain, I’m warning you,” Mallory said between clenched teeth. His eyes were as dark and menacing as Cain had ever seen. “Get rid of this Amazon.”

“I won’t do that,” Cain said mildly. “She may be your last chance.”

“I don’t want this,” Mallory muttered, and rubbed a hand over his face. “And I don’t want her.” He gestured toward Francine. “If you think I need a woman, fine, send me a woman, not Attila the Hun.”

Cain glanced at Francine, wondering if Mallory had offended her. Apparently not. Her face remained expressionless.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “we just need to get to know each other better. Before long we’re going to be real good friends.”

“Don’t count on it,” Tim Mallory muttered.

“Oh, but I am,” she countered, grinning broadly as she walked out the door.

Cain followed, waited until there wasn’t any chance Mallory could hear him and asked, “What are his chances?”

“Good,” Francine said without hesitating. “Very good. He’s got plenty of spunk. Trust me, he’ll need every ounce of that tenacity. We’ll start right away.”

Cain paused. “I apologize for the things Mallory said.”

“Don’t worry about it,” was her automatic response, but a look flashed in her eyes that told Cain his friend’s words had hit their mark. “I know I’m no raving beauty, but that’s not why you’re hiring me.”

Perhaps not, but if she could bring Mallory out of this depression and help him walk again, Cain would believe she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Cain needed to do some
Christmas shopping. That was why he’d come to Fisherman’s Wharf. At least that was the excuse he’d used when he found himself wandering aimlessly along the waterfront.

The harder he worked to convince himself his being there had nothing to do with Linette Collins, the more obvious the truth became. Hell, he could have arranged for damn near anything he wanted over the phone with little more than a credit card and a catalog number.

The only reason he was on the wharf was the ridiculous hope he’d catch a glimpse of Linette. Just one. Without her knowing. Why he found it so necessary to spy on her, he didn’t know. Didn’t want to know.

As it happened, he located her yarn shop tucked in a corner along Pier 39, the window display as charming and inviting as the woman herself. He stood outside several moments, his hands buried in his lambskin-lined jacket.

Uncomfortable emotions came at him like poisoned darts, infecting him with all the might-have-beens in his life. He’d chosen this lifestyle, thrived on the challenge. No drug could produce the physical or emotional high of a successfully completed mission. No drug and no woman.

Then why was he standing in the cold like a lovelorn teenager, hoping for a glimpse of a widow he’d met briefly one night at a Christmas party? Clearly there were a few screws loose. The military had a word for this: battle fatigue. What he needed was a few uninterrupted days by himself to put his life back in the proper perspective.

Montana. Christmas was the perfect excuse to escape for a few days. It was long past time that he visited his ranch. He heard from the foreman he’d hired every now and again, but it had been well over a year since Cain had last visited the five-thousand-acre spread.

His strides filled with purpose, he walked along the pier until he saw a sign for World Wide Travel. After stepping inside the agency, he moved to the counter and waited his turn. A smartly dressed professional greeted him with a smile and arranged for his airline ticket to Helena, Montana. The only seats available were in first class, but Cain could well afford the extravagance. It was a small price to pay to escape San Francisco and the beautiful widow who’d captured his mind.

Experiencing a small sense of satisfaction, Cain tucked the airline ticket into the inside pocket of his jacket and continued on his way, moving down the waterfront and farther away from Linette. Farther away from temptation.

He was just beginning to think he had this minor curiosity licked when out of the blue, he saw her. For a moment it felt as if someone had inadvertently hit him against the back of the head. He went stock-still.

From the way her shoulders hunched forward he could see that she was tired. She stood in line at a fish and chips place, working to open the clasp of her shoulder bag. The wind whipped her hair about her face, and she lifted a finger to wrap a thick strand of dark hair around her ear.

The smart thing to do was to turn around, without delay, and walk away as fast as his feet would carry him. He’d gotten what he wanted. One last look at her, without her knowing. His curiosity should be satisfied.

Even as his mind formulated the thought, Cain knew just seeing Linette again wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to talk to her and get to know her. He wanted to sit down across a table from her and discover what it was about her that made a man who’d built his life around pride and discipline risk making a world-class fool of himself.

Linette was exhausted. She couldn’t remember a day when she’d done a more brisk business. Instead of celebrating over the highest gross income achieved in a single workday, she felt like falling into bed and sleeping for a week. She wanted to ignore Christmas, the hustle and bustle, the joy and goodwill.

It was Nancy’s news, too, Linette realized. It wasn’t that she begrudged Rob and Nancy every happiness. She was thrilled for them. Yet it was all so painful. She
ached for the child she’d never have with Michael and all the dreams they’d once shared.

Christmas, coupled with the anniversary of Michael’s death and the news of the baby, weighed down her heart as surely as if it had been tied with concrete blocks and carelessly flung into the Bay.

As she advanced toward the take-out window, Linette realized she wasn’t hungry. What appetite she’d had vanished. Stepping out of line, she secured the clasp of her purse and turned to head up the wharf.

It was then that she saw Cain. Linette’s heart gave a short, rapid-fire reaction. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he’d been in her thoughts most of the day.

His eyes locked with hers as if the distance, the shoppers, the crowded sidewalk and endless traffic, in no way separated them. As if all she had to do were reach out and, like magic, he’d be standing there, directly in front of her.

At precisely the same moment they started walking toward each other, their gazes continuing to hold them as effectively as an embrace.

“Hello.” Cain spoke first.

“Hi.” She smiled, or at least attempted one. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I had to come down to pick up my airline tickets.”

“You’re leaving?” It shouldn’t have come as any surprise. Cain had never hid the fact that he was in town for only a few days. San Francisco wasn’t his home.

“I’ll be back shortly after the first of the year.”

The news sufficiently lifted her spirits, although there wasn’t a single reason to believe she’d be seeing him then. Or ever again, for that matter.

“You changed your mind?” he asked, inclining his head toward the fish and chip stand.

“Yeah. I was looking for something quick and easy. But by the time I arrive home, the fish will be cold and soggy.” That wasn’t the whole story, but it was close enough to the truth to satisfy him.

By tacit agreement they started walking. The aroma of fresh fish and thick-cut French fries floated toward them as they strolled along the pier.

“The fish and chips wouldn’t be soggy if you ate them right away,” Cain said. His hands were buried in his coat pockets, and he condensed his steps in order to keep pace with her much shorter stride. “I was headed that way myself. Would you care to join me?”

Linette hadn’t been expecting a dinner invitation, and his offer took her by surprise. “Thank you, I’d enjoy that.” She’d enjoy anything that helped her through the loneliness, helped her through this night. Rushing back to her apartment, which stood empty and dark, held no appeal.

His hand cupped her elbow as he led her, not to the fish and chip stand as she expected, but to the restaurant, a well-known and expensive seafood place that catered to a heavy tourist trade.

Because of the hour, they were put on a waiting list and told it might be as long as forty-five minutes before they could be seated. Cain didn’t seem to object and Linette didn’t, either.

He suggested they wait in the bar, and she agreed, although she wasn’t much of a drinker. The lounge was as crowded as the restaurant, but they managed to find a table. An attractive waitress took their order. Cain asked
for a Jack Daniel’s, and Linette opted for a glass of white wine.

“Busy day?” Cain asked once they were settled.

“Frantic was more like it. There was a lull every now and again where Bonnie—she works with me—and I could take a breather, but those were few and far between. How about you?”

He hesitated as if he weren’t sure how to answer her. “I attended to business matters.”

She noticed how he turned the conversation away from himself and quizzed her once more about the yarn shop. She answered his questions, but she was deeply disappointed. It was more than obvious that he had no intention of lowering the steel facade he wore like plate armor, to share any part of himself. He was a good listener, but after thirty minutes she ran out of things to say.

As time passed it became more and more difficult to carry on a conversation. Linette finished her wine and set the glass on the small round table.

“Would you care for another?” Cain asked.

“No thanks.” She made a show of looking at her watch. “Actually, I think it might be a good idea if I headed home. It’s later than I realized, and…,” She let the rest fade. Making excuses, even plausible ones, wasn’t her forte. “Perhaps we could have dinner another time.”

Cain’s gaze narrowed with confusion as she stood. “Sure,” he said. He took out his wallet and left a generous tip for the waitress. He hurriedly spoke to the receptionist on his way out the door.

Linette hadn’t intended for him to follow her outside.
“It was good to see you again, Cain,” she said, eager to be on her way. She turned, her steps as fast paced as she could make them. His eyes seemed to bore into her back, and it was all she could do not to whirl around and confront him.

Weaving her way in and out of the pockets of pedestrians, Linette made good time. She’d gone four or five blocks and was just outside the BART station when she heard Cain call her name.

Briefly closing her eyes, dreading a confrontation, she hesitated and then turned around. He trotted across the street. “One question,” he said as he braced his hands against his knees and struggled to regain his breath. “Was that a brush-off?”

“It’s me,” she said, more than willing to accept the blame. “I’ve had a rough day. Nancy stopped in to tell me she’s pregnant and it’s almost Christmas.” She was speaking so fast, the words nearly collided with one another on the way out of her mouth. “Forgive me if I offended you, but I didn’t have the energy to sit through dinner and listen to myself all evening.” By the frown he wore, she realized her explanation served only to baffle him further.

“Listen to yourself?” he asked.

“It’s apparent you’re not interested in sharing any part of yourself with me. Don’t misunderstand me, if you don’t want to talk, fine, that’s your prerogative. It’s just that I’m tired and hungry and depressed and not fit company. Not tonight.” She clung to her purse strap as if it were a lifeline, eager to be on her way.

A car, not unlike any other, raced past them. Linette saw a youth toss something out the window. His action was followed by several loud bursts of noise. Before who
or what had fully registered in her mind, Cain lunged for her, gripping her hard about the waist. Twisting so that he would receive the brunt of the impact, he pushed her toward the sidewalk, which came racing up to meet them. She landed with a thud atop him, bouncing slightly with the force of the fall.

Her breath jammed in her lungs as shock and panic shot through her.

“Are you all right?” Cain asked, brushing the hair from her face as if that would tell him what he needed to know. His touch was gentle and light, although she noticed his hand trembled.

She couldn’t answer him, couldn’t force the words past the sheer terror that had gripped her throat. Instead she wrapped her arms around him and clung. With her heart thundering in her ear, she sank into the safety of his arms, the warm haven of security.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered repeatedly, his hands stroking the back of her head. “I thought it was something else. Apparently it was only firecrackers.”

She nodded, her pulse hammering against his chest. Her breath came in rapid bursts as she struggled to regain her composure.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Gradually she gained control and eased herself away from him. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t, but she would be in short order.

He stood and helped her to her feet. A crowd had gathered around them, firing questions. Cain ignored them as if they were alone, ignored the questions and offers of assistance. Linette heard whispers about crazy kids, tossing fireworks into the street like that.

Cain wrapped his arm around Linette’s waist and gently led her away.

“I’ll drive you home,” he said. In no way were the words in the form of a question. She saw the strain on his face.

“I’m fine,” she reiterated. Perhaps she was now, but she wasn’t so sure of Cain. The self-directed anger radiated from him like the heat from a sunburn.

He helped her inside his car, and when he climbed in the driver’s seat, she rattled off her address. She noticed the hard set of his jaw and the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel.

He didn’t say a word on the ten-minute drive to her apartment building.

“I think we can both do with a cup of strong coffee,” she said.

His eyes hardened as if he weren’t sure he should accept her invitation. “I’ve done enough damage for one night, don’t you think?”

She raised her hand to her face, to brush away a strand of hair, and realized she didn’t want to walk into the cold, dark apartment, surrounded by silence, surrounded by memories. Not tonight. Not alone. Like the night of the Christmas party, they needed each other.

“Come up with me.” The words were barely audible, and she wondered if he heard her. His hands tightened until his knuckles went white before he reached for the key and without another word turned off the ignition.

Linette led the way into the elevator and down the long, silent hall to her third-floor apartment. She unlocked the door and turned on the light. Inside, she removed her coat and hung it in the hall closet with her purse.
Cain removed his jacket and draped it over the end of the leather sofa, as if to say he wouldn’t be staying long. He scanned the room and zeroed in on the framed photograph of Michael she’d placed on the fireplace mantel.

Linette moved into the compact kitchen, but Cain gently but firmly sat her down at the octagon-shaped glass table in the dining room. “I’ll make the coffee,” he announced. He assembled the pot within minutes and started rummaging through her refrigerator. “When was the last time you bought groceries?” he asked, taking a carton of eggs from the top shelf.

She assumed the question was rhetorical, but she answered him anyway. “Last week…sometime.”

Before she could ask what he was doing, Cain had scrambled eggs and buttered toast. He set the plate in front of her, poured them each a cup of coffee, adding sugar to hers. Then he pulled out a chair, twisted it around, and straddled it. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I don’t have any excuse, other than to say I acted out of instinct.”