"Are you crazy??" Tara’s face was slack with shock. "That damned island nearly killed all of us, Davis! And as for Frank …"
Her voice tailed off as Davis looked at her unhappily. They both knew the trauma
that Brodie had endured. Ten years of nightmares and pain … ten years of
terrible guilt. He had been to San Miguel Island twice during that time, and
he had left dead friends behind on each occasion.
"Count me in."
Tara and Davis both turned in surprise at the gruff baritone.
Brodie sat, glass in hand, watching the swirl of liquid in the harsh sunlight.
Tara was incensed.
"You damn’ near didn’t come back the last time, Frank! What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?"
Brodie ignored her as he fixed stone-cold blue eyes on Davis’ face.
"How long before you’re planning to head out?"
Davis held Brodie’s gaze, unhappy that he had to ask, but relieved it had not been the argument he thought it would be. Brodie has said ‘yes’.
"Oh, a couple of months at least. Mr Cunningham’s still got to finalise the details and we have to get a team together. I got a few names in mind." He saw the look of doubt in Brodie’s face. "They’re good men, Brodie, I made sure of that. Besides," he added with a wry grin, "I told ‘em they had to work with you. If that doesn’t mean they’re tough sonsabitches, I don’t know what does."
"Brodie - " Tara began to protest, her voice hard with anger.
Brodie stopped her with a look, Tara quietly seething as she lapsed into silence.
"I’m goin’." He turned back to Davis, the man realising there would be unholy hell to pay when he left Brodie’s squalid little house – Tara was in no mood to take the big man’s stubborn ass-hole behaviour so meekly.
"Your leg, Frank. You gonna be able to take the pace? Mr Cunningham will do all he can to make it easier for you and you won’t be in the thick of it, but it’s not going to be easy …" Davis’ words tailed into silence.
"Especially for a cripple, is that what you’re saying?" Brodie smiled, but the humour didn’t reach the blue eyes. Davis’ resulting silence spoke volumes. "You tell your boss I’ll be ready." Brodie took a swallow of the soda, secretly wishing he had taken the painkillers Tara had offered him earlier. His leg and hip were killing him, and it was all he could do to stop a groan of pain as he reached up to shake Davis’ hand as the man rose to leave.
"I’ll be in touch, Frank. Hang loose, my friend." Davis grinned. Brodie was a stubborn, pain-in-the-ass sonofabitch, but for some reason the young security chief liked the man, dammit!
Brodie grimaced.
"Yeah, yeah …" He watched as Davis headed towards the door. "Hey!"
Davis turned at Brodie’s shout.
"Yeah?" He waited expectantly.
"When we get back on the island … you make goddamn sure this ‘team’ of yours has some firepower. Last time all you had was a couple of sticking plasters and a thermal recon unit, and look what good that did us." It sure as hell didn’t do Eddie and Kovacs any good – those fuckin’ animals just about ate ‘em alive, Brodie thought. He continued. "This time you give ‘em guns. Big, nasty ones, and lots of ‘em too. You hear me, Davis?"
Davis grinned.
"I hear you. Big, nasty guns. Gotcha."
For the first time Brodie’s smile contained some warmth as he saw Davis turn and disappear into the house. He heard Tara show him to the front door, their voices low.
He grinned.
He had his chance. This time … this time those motherfuckin’ baboons were gonna pay …
***********************
Tara escorted Davis to the front door, noticing for the first time the big heavy SUV waiting for him at the kerb, a tall, powerfully-built man leaning against the door of the vehicle. Short-cropped dark hair accentuated the arrogant handsomeness of the lean face, and dark eyes sparkled with something Tara couldn’t quite make out.
Davis nodded at the man, and received a knowing smile in return. The self-confidence shone from the good-looking face.
"That’s Pieter Van Guelder. He’ll be in charge of the clean-up team. Ex-South African police, ex-soldier. He’s good at his job, Tara. He’ll make sure Brodie’s safe, I promise."
Tara wasn’t sure. There was something about him …
"Davis, I’m not happy about this, you know that."
He nodded.
"Yeah. I kind of figured that one out. But I promise it’ll be okay. We’ll give Brodie time to heal up … Mr Cunningham isn’t in any rush, and he won’t do this thing without Frank. Once the leg’s fixed - "
"His leg isn’t going to get ‘fixed’, Davis. It never will be." Tara decided to be blunt.
Davis’ face went blank with shock.
"He’ll never walk without a stick, and he was damn’ lucky not to lose the leg. Physio will help, but he’ll need a walking aid for the rest of his life. Is Mr Cunningham prepared to deal with that?"
Tara watched the play of emotions on Davis’ amiable face. Obviously he hadn’t known the seriousness of Brodie’s injuries. She continued, hoping to shock him into refusing to take Brodie – she didn’t like doing it, but it had to be said.
"Do you know what Compartment Syndrome is, Davis? Sounds like a yuppie disease, doesn’t it? Well, it’s a lot more serious than that. When that damn baboon bit into his thigh, remember? In the tower? Well, in simple terms, the crush of its jaws caused swelling, but instead of the tissues swelling outwards, they were blocked by a tough tissue called fascia, and the swelling went in, cutting off blood supply to tissues, resulting in tissue death. It could have led to kidney failure, or he could have lost the leg. He could have even died, Davis. It’s only because the docs operated and relieved the pressure that he survived. But the tissue was already damaged and it’s left him disabled. That’s why he doesn’t have a cast on his leg, it’s just lightly strapped … because he needs to move the leg to help prevent it getting worse. But it sure as hell isn’t going to get much better. Do you understand me?"
Davis nodded, numb from the shock.
"You still want him?"
Tara stood with her hands on her hips expectantly. She knew Brodie would be furious if he knew she had told Davis, but she didn’t see any other way of stopping Brodie from doing something so foolhardy it was frightening.
Davis thought for long moments. He had seen the determination on Brodie’s face as he considered the trip back to the island. There was a feral satisfaction in the big man’s face, a desperate need to make things right again. No, Davis thought. He couldn’t let Brodie down on this one. He understood why.
"Yeah, Tara – I still want him." He saw the look of hopelessness on the young woman’s face and felt guilt sweep through him for a moment. But he wouldn’t be swayed. "He has to face it, Tara, you know that. He has to do something to fix what he’s been through. Don’t worry – we know what we’re going into this time, and it will be okay, I promise."
"Then you’ll need a medic."
Davis blinked.
"What - "
"You want Brodie? Then you take me too. No Tara, no Brodie. No Brodie, no mission. No mission, no deal for Mr Cunningham to make millions of dollars in profit. Savvy?"
Davis knew he was backed into a corner. He sighed.
"Okay, okay. Actually, I need a small medical team. If you have anyone else in mind, let me know, will ya." He grinned. "You are one tough lady, Tara Matthews – you know that?"
Tara grinned in reply.
"You don’t know the half of it!"
Preparing to leave, Davis gave her a business card.
"You can get hold of me at any one of these numbers, night or day. Let me know how you’re getting on, and I’ll be in touch. Oh, and don’t let that big sonofabitch get you down, huh?" He saw Tara nod in amusement. "Take care."
And then he was gone, Van Guelder driving him away from the small village of San Miguel and back to civilisation.
*******************
What followed were endless weeks of unadulterated hell for Tara Matthews.
Frank Brodie was a man with a mission, and come hell or high water he was going to be fit enough to get to the island of San Miguel, and fit enough to see those goddamn’ baboons blown to hell and high water.
Two days after Davis’ visit, he nagged Tara until she took out the stitches in his wounds and removed the strapping from his game leg. Then he began to exercise the leg in earnest. The physiotherapist had given him gentle exercises to prevent the tightening of tendons and to strengthen the damaged muscles in his thigh and back. It became pretty obvious to Tara that Brodie didn’t know the meaning of the phrase ‘gentle exercise’.
She was woken the following morning by soft, hissing curses coming from the bedroom. Concerned that Brodie had fallen and hurt himself, she stumbled into Brodie’s bedroom in a panic – only to find Brodie forcing his foot down flat on the floor, stretching the damaged tissue at the rear of his thigh.
"What the … Brodie!! What the hell do you think you’re doing?"
Brodie grunted with pain as he forced himself to take a hopping step, leaning heavily on the somewhat battered walking stick.
"What does it look like?"
Tara was furious.
"It looks like a big moron trying to cripple himself, that’s what it looks like!"
Brodie glared at her, muscles jumping in pain along his jaw-line.
"What? Make myself even more crippled than I already am? I don’t think so, lady!" He watched as Tara became almost incoherent with rage, but her anger broke against his resolve like water against a cliff. He waited until her cursing faded and she began to run out of breath, then continued. "Well? You just gonna stand there and watch me do this, or are you gonna help?"
Tara saw the determination on Brodie’s rugged face – and relented.
"Are you sure you want to do this Frank? Davis will take ‘no’ if you tell him hard enough - "
"I’m going! I just need some help here, is all …"
So Tara helped him.
For days on end she cajoled, nagged, teased and bitched. She helped him do his exercises, listened to his anger when he couldn’t make the muscles do any more, and soothed him when he became so exhausted he could hardly stand upright. She listened to the nightmares that plagued him night after night, and ached to hold him when the pain became too much.
She made him eat properly, kept him away from the booze, and bit her tongue when his frustration bubbled over into tirades of fury – usually aimed at her. He was short-tempered, acid-tongued and sometimes downright abusive and she gave as good as she got, hitting right back with terse, barbed insults that broke the tension and often had Brodie dissolving into laughter.
But he got better. The leg began to respond to the brutal regime Brodie set for himself, and by the end of six weeks he managed to walk across his living room and out onto his little yard, although he still needed the sturdy support of his stick.
Standing with her arms crossed watching him, Tara was impressed. She knew the leg wouldn’t become much more mobile, but she could help him gain more strength, enabling him to get about for longer periods and get back into some sort of normal life. As if that was what Brodie wanted. The only thing he was interested in was getting back on that damned island.
She smiled as Brodie made it back to his old recliner and lowered himself into the seat, sweat beading his brow. He was exhausted but triumphant. He looked up at Tara and winked.
"Pretty good, huh?"
Tara grinned.
"Not bad. Not bad at all."
Brodie looked at her shrewdly.
"Have you been keeping Davis up to speed on how I’m doin’?"
Tara nodded.
"I sure have. I told him you’re doing pretty well." She hesitated. "I … I er, told him, Brodie. I told him about what happened to your leg." She saw Brodie’s face darken with anger. "Hey! Don’t even think about throwing a hissy-fit at me – he had to know, all right? Don’t worry – he still wants you for this idiotic trip."
Brodie, somewhat mollified, nodded in agreement.
"Too damn’ right!" Blue eyes caught velvet brown. "I have to go, you know that. I have to …"
She looked at the pain in those blue eyes. Pain that had taken root in him ten years ago, pain that was eating him from the inside out, pain that would chew him up and spit him out until there was nothing of Frank Brodie left. She knew then that she couldn’t allow that to happen. Brodie would go back to the island, and would do his best make things right … or die trying. But he wouldn’t be going alone.
"Brodie …" She decided it was time to tell him.
He looked up from pouring himself a celebratory soda.
"Mmmm?"
She took a deep breath and carried on.
"Davis has put me in charge of the medical team. I’m going with you."
Brodie was in the process of raising the glass to take a drink, but his hand froze.
"What?" His voice was the softest of whispers.
Tara flinched at the barely controlled anger, but she ploughed on.
"I said, I’m going with you. Davis needed a medic, and I’m it. I’m in the process of getting a couple more personnel, but it won’t take me long to have the team in place."
"No."
Tara frowned.
"What do you mean, ‘no’?"
"I mean ‘You ain’t going kinda ‘no’, that’s what I mean."
Tara’s hackles went up.
"What the hell do you mean, I’m not going? You don’t have a say in the matter, Frank – it’s Davis that makes the decisions, not you."
Brodie looked at her and saw the determination on her face. God, she was beautiful …
"Tara – you ain’t going, and that’s final. If I have to get Davis down here and threaten to peel his hide off him from the ankles on up, I’ll do it if it means you don’t go on this trip!"
Weeks of aggravation, irritation and downright bad behaviour had taken its toll on Tara Matthews, and the dam finally broke.
"Just who the hell do you think you are, Frank Brodie, telling me what I can and I can’t do??? It’s all right for me to clean up after you, feed you, or take all that crap you like to hand out when you feel pissed off, or sore, or shitty, or you just got out of the goddamned bed the wrong side that morning!! Oh yeah, I’m just the ‘little woman’, aren’t I? Just kept around to stop big, bad pain-in-the-ass Frank Brodie from breaking the crockery!" She stood, angry, shaking, the fury bubbling out of her. "What the hell were you expecting me to do, Frank? Help you get that goddamn leg working well enough for you to go get yourself killed and then just wave you off at the front door like a good, obedient woman? Well, screw you, Frank!! Oh – I forgot. You don’t even like to do that any more do you???"
But before Brodie could answer she turned around and disappeared into the house, and moments later he heard the front door slam shut. She had gone.
He sat for long moments, pondering what she had said. Had he really been that bad? He had to admit to himself he had been abysmal. But why the hell was she going back to the island? He knew the answer almost before he asked the question. She cared about him. She cared about him a lot. She had stuck it out while he recovered, helped him with his exercises, looked after him – and all the thanks she had got was his anger. Dammit!!!
A sound began to percolate into his mind. Crying. He could hear crying. Soft sobs came from the scruffy front yard of his little house. Tara. Shit! If it was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was women crying. No, he thought. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was Tara crying.
Levering himself painfully out of his recliner, he gathered up his stick and limped through the house.
******************
Tara sat on the steps staring out at the setting sun, tears streaming down her cheeks. Why couldn’t he understand? Why hadn’t Brodie figured out why she was going to the island with him? He was an intelligent man – what the hell did he think she was? A kewpie doll?She heard the door open behind her and she scrabbled away tears from her face. No way in hell was she going to let Brodie see how upset she was.
She heard a groan and fell his big frame settle beside her on the step, game leg stretched out and his stick lying beside him.
Brodie saw the hunch of her shoulders, the despair in her body. God, he hated
it when women were upset.
"Tara …"
She turned teary, liquid brown eyes to him … and he surrendered in an instant. She was glorious, tear-stained and hurt as she was.
"Aw hell …" Brodie’s voice broke as he finally understood the pain he had caused her. "Tara … I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I said, I’m sorry for everything I did." He saw her try to smile, try to forgive him – but it didn’t help. He had made a complete ass of himself, he knew. "I … I just want you back. Tara … Tara, please … come with me … back to the island. I can’t do it without you, I know that now."
Tara saw the pain wash out of him, saw the despair in his eyes. He had grasped onto the chance of redemption if he went back to San Miguel, and he suddenly realised he needed her. He needed her not only to help him recover … he needed her to heal his heart, his very soul. He head ducked, unable to look her in the eye any longer, his shame was so great.
"If you’ll come with me, I’ll do everything you want me to … hell, I’ll leave you alone if you want me to … I know that’s over …you’ve … you’ve made it clear you don’t want me to touch you. That’s okay. Whatever you want is okay with me."
Tara gazed at him in wonder. He looked defeated. Hurt, beaten, like a child battered into submission by harsh parents.
She smiled shakily and cupped his face in her hand, smoothing his moustache with her thumb.
"Frank Brodie … you are such an asshole …"
She kissed him. She kissed his lips, then his cheeks and nose. She showered small kisses on his eyes and his chin, she kissed his brow and kissed his mouth once again, this time deeply, longingly.
Breaking off, she stood, holding out her hands to help him up. He managed to haul himself to his feet and was astounded when she gathered him in her arms and kissed him again, her tongue beginning to explore his mouth, desire sweeping through her.
He managed to break off to catch his breath.
"Tara - "
She shushed him with another kiss.
"No, Frank. Don’t talk. Let’s just go to bed, shall we?"
This time it was Brodie who kissed Tara, his arms gathering her to his awakening body, his hand sliding down to grasp her hip, pulling her to him so she could feel his arousal. There would be no going back this time, she knew. He wanted her, his body burned with need for her.
They separated just long enough for Tara to help Brodie back into the house and then into the bedroom, where they undressed each other slowly and sensually, exploring the hollows and plains of hip and belly.
Tara helped Brodie lie back on his old bed, and then she began to love him.
Brodie watched with erotic fascination as she explored his body. Kneeling above him she kissed the hard nipples she found amongst the dusting of curls on his broad chest, her tongue tracing the outline of his breastbone and ribs. His breath quickened as she worked lower, hands stroking his hipbones and the defined muscles of his abdomen. Her breasts brushed his belly and he groaned, wanting her to move lower. She straddled his thighs as she leaned over him, her dark hair glorious against the tanned skin of her shoulders. Brodie reached down to cup her breasts, the nipples rigid under his touch, but she shushed him into stillness.
"Let me love you, Frank … let me give you pleasure …"
She suckled the skin of his belly and swirled her tongue around the softness of his navel, her breasts now teasingly hot against his penis lying painfully erect beneath her. God, how he wanted her …
"Tara … now … I want to be inside you … please …"
She hadn’t touched him yet, but now she sat up and positioned herself above his straining erection and he groaned loudly, the yearning almost too great to bear.
"Put me inside you." Brodie grasped her hips and pulled her over him, easing her downwards to the glistening crown of his penis, semen already oozing from the engorged tip.
Tara smiled, her own breath quickening at the thought. She knew neither of them would last long – it had been too long since their last loving, and they both needed release from the tension that had gone unbidden between them for the past few weeks.
Reaching down she grasped him, the big man jerking at the feel of her hand on him. She held him gently and lowered herself on his manhood at last.
It was pure ecstasy. Brodie cried out as he slid into her moist depths, and somewhere in his consciousness her heard Tara moan at the feel of his entry. He thrust upwards into her, unable to hold back, and she settled instantly into a rhythm, rocking on him as he held her hips, penetrating to the very heart of her. The sensation was exquisite.
They moved in unison, bodies joined, hip against thigh, thrusting, riding, her hands on his chest as she moved, hair hanging in damp swirls as she lost herself to his loving. Brodie knew he was near to orgasm and he cupped her buttocks in big hands, feeling the movement of her muscles as she rode him harder. Tara’s face was lost in pleasure, lost to the sensation of his maleness deep within her, and her excitement mounted along with the pulsing throb of him inside her slick channel. She was very near … so close … almost … almost …
Brodie felt her sheath clutch at him, pulling him in deeper still, and he groaned with every movement of her body.
"Uhnh … Tara … I’m … I’m gonna come …"
Hazy eyes looked down at him.
"Come in me Frank … fill me … fill me now …"
He felt her tense … and then her back arched and her head flung back in ecstasy as she sobbed out a wailing, wordless cry of pleasure.
Brodie held her tight as she pulsed around him, but he couldn’t contain himself any longer.
"Tara … Oh God …Ahhhh!!"
He held her to him as he burst inside her, pumping his semen into her in milky streams, his body straining upwards in final shuddering thrusts, hands holding her until he had finished, until the last drop had spilled deep within her and his thrusts slowed, then stilled.
The room was quiet apart from their heavy, sated breathing, Tara still astride his exhausted body, Brodie still holding her to him as his penis softened inside her. She finally managed to find the strength to ease herself from him, both of them gasping at the sensation and feeling the trickle of his seed as he slid from her depths. She lowered herself to the bed beside him and snuggled into his shoulder, careful of the still-tender, healing wounds on his body.
She sighed.
"Frank?"
Brodie smiled at the contentment in her voice.
"Yeah?"
"I’m still going to the island, you know. You can’t stop me."
Brodie’s smile widened into a grin.
"Stop you? What the hell made you think I’d even try?"
Chuckling drowsily, he gathered her to him and both of them drifted into a dreamless sleep.
******************