Jane Choate - Shattered Secrets

Sal had taken them down quickly and efficiently. When he’d turned to her, the ferocity in his eyes had sent her pulse into overdrive.

“The police will be here in a minute,” she’d said to defuse the anger that radiated from him.

“They wanted more than to rob us. If they had hurt you...”

“I’m okay. Thanks to you.” The experience had made her determined to never again be so powerless and she’d started studying martial arts.

He still wore the mantle of the soldier he’d been across his shoulders, telegraphing an innate desire to protect, to defend, to stand between danger and those weaker than himself. He was a good man, an honorable man, whose self-assurance and unshakable sense of justice defined him as much as the dark hair and skin that hinted at his Italian ancestry.

Against her will, Olivia felt herself responding to his appeal. To him. That stunning realization unfolded in the space of one heartbeat and shocked her into stillness. With an effort, she did her best to ignore it.

He looked the same as he had the last time she’d seen him, right down to the off-center dimple that punctuated his chin. She longed to smooth her finger in that shallow dent. Deliberately, she fisted her hands at her sides to keep from doing that very thing.

She couldn’t deny the frisson of pleasure she’d experienced when he’d walked into her office that morning as the sky grew pink with dawn. Nor could she shake off the sweet memories that assailed her, memories she’d locked away for two long years.

Olivia wanted to believe he was here because he cared about her, but she knew better. She pushed from her mind the unwelcome memory of how they’d parted, and concentrated on the present.

She let her gaze take in the man who had once meant so much to her. At five feet and nine inches, she was hardly petite. Still, she had to look up at Sal, who stood a good five inches over six feet. Broad shoulders, narrow waist and legs that were as sturdy as telephone poles, not to mention a military bearing, gave him an imposing presence.

No, there was nothing soft about Salvatore Santonni. With hard planes and abrupt angles, his face would never place him in the pretty-boy category. It had too much strength and stubborn resolve for such insipid looks and bore the lines and ruggedness that came from long hours exposed to the wind and the sun. His dark eyes missed nothing and portrayed a startling intensity.

Arms folded across his wide chest, he broadened his stance as though preparing for resistance. He knew her too well and had already anticipated her response.

But how else could she react? This was Calvin’s life they were talking about. She had to do what the kidnappers said. Exhaustion and hunger dragged at her, but it was the riot of emotions roiling through her that had turned her stomach inside out and her mind to mush.

She wet her lips. “I can’t risk involving you,” she said at last, panic rising with each syllable. “The kidnappers will know.”

“How will they know?”

“I don’t know.” She all but shouted the words. “All I know is that I have to do what they said. If I don’t... Calvin will die. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let it.”

“Just how do you plan to get him back? Ask nicely and hope the kidnappers play by the rules?”

Resentment filled her. Sal wasn’t responsible for bringing Calvin home safely. She was. With renewed purpose, she squared her shoulders and braced herself for what came next.

“You won’t get Chantry back on your own. Take a breath and then we’ll decide on our next step.”

“You can’t be here. They’ll know.”

Sal knelt in front of her. “You can do this. We can do this. But we have to be smarter than the bad guys.” He took her hands and folded them inside his own. “Whoever’s behind this is counting on you reacting with fear. You’re smarter than that.”

“Am I?” She hated the self-doubt in her voice and looked down at their clasped hands. Then raised her gaze to his. His dark eyes locked on hers. She saw strength and courage there. Maybe she could draw on some of his when her own was so lacking. Before she thought better of it, she voiced her thoughts aloud.

“I didn’t want to call you.” The admission cost her, but she plunged on. “I didn’t want to lean on you, but I’m doing exactly that.”

“You can lean on me whenever you like,” he said.

In that instant, she thought of the Lord and remembered that He’d said that all who came to Him could lean on Him.

She’d never doubted that the Lord would be there for her, but a man she hadn’t seen in two years was asking her to put Calvin’s life in his hands. Could she do it? Unbidden, the memory of Sal leaving her with scarcely a goodbye intruded into her thoughts, sending a spear of pain through her.

“Lean on you like I did two years ago?” She flushed at her rudeness. Sal had made the trip from Atlanta to Savannah solely to help her. He didn’t deserve the back side of her tongue.

His lips thinned, but he didn’t respond to the barb.

She wanted to snatch the words back, was about to do just that, when he said, “You have to see that you can’t do this on your own. These people don’t play fair.”

Gone was the apology that hovered on her lips. “I’m not an idiot. I know that.”

“I never said you were an idiot,” Sal said, his patience underscoring her lack of the same. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. But you don’t have experience in dealing with this kind of situation.”

“And you do?”

“In Afghanistan.” Pain darkened his eyes. “A group of insurgents grabbed a couple of locals who had been helping us. They had promised to make an example out of anyone who assisted the US. They had a reputation of being particularly brutal with their captives. My unit was called in to get them out.”

The words had a staccato rhythm to them, as though he could pry them out only by infusing every syllable with a mechanical precision. Whatever memory he was recalling obviously wasn’t a pleasant one. What he’d left unsaid was somehow worse than what he’d told her. “Let’s just say that kidnappings are unpredictable. Things can go south in a hurry.” His face morphed into a hard mask, a stark contrast with the gentleness he’d shown her only moments earlier.

Olivia wanted to ask him what had happened, but something held her back. If Sal wanted to share, he would, but she doubted he’d do so.

He had always been protective of her and had never wanted to bring the ugliness of war into her world. It had been one of the problems between them, his reluctance to share all of himself with her.

And what about you? an inner voice chastised. She hadn’t shared everything about herself, either. They had each held back parts of themselves, as though afraid they would give away pieces they wouldn’t get back should the need arise.

Another regret.

* * *

Sal’s mind clicked through possible scenarios of Olivia dealing with the kidnappers on her own, each more frightening than the last. She wasn’t equipped for it, as he’d tried to tell her.

Judging from her reaction, he’d made his point all too well.

“You’re not thinking straight,” he said now, his voice gentle. “That’s what kidnappers do. They want you off balance so you’ll do what they say without thinking it through.”

When her phone rang, she jumped. Sal motioned for her to put it on speaker, and she pressed a key. “Yes?”

“You disobeyed instructions.” The artificial voice gave no hint as to the caller’s identity. Man or woman. Young or old. There was no way of knowing.

“I didn’t go to the police,” she said quickly.

“But you told someone. Do not bother denying it. Your instructions were to tell no one. Now you will pay the price.” An ominous pause followed. “More precisely, Chantry will pay the price.”