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“But that doesn’t mean you—errmm, your friend—shouldn’t look to all that for her inspiration.”
“For understanding BDSM?”
“For understanding fear.”
She was as lost with his explanation as she was with the irony—only this time, realized it. “Huh?”
Her gaze jumped at him, open and questioning. Franz answered her with equal frankness, and an answer he hoped would make sense.
“Your husband…he was killed in Iraq, right?” He kept the words crisp but his hold tender, hating himself for bringing even the tiny shards of pain in her eyes. Dredging up her grief wasn’t his purpose, but momentarily necessary in proving his point. The second she got out a shaky nod, he went on. “And I’ll bet, after all that went down, you were a thousand kinds of terrified, yeah?”
Tracy swallowed. Twisted the blanket tighter. But her new nod conveyed the weight of her trust in where he was taking this—and filled him with such deep warmth, he wondered how he’d accepted a life without it for so long.
“But instead of wallowing in the fear, you chose to turn and face it.”
She snorted. “Chose?” A wry smile formed. “I was running a small business and raising a ten-year-old boy. Nothing was a choice for me, John.”
“Ku’uipo.” He underlined it by grabbing one of her hands. “Getting up in the damn morning became a choice for you.” Her twisting lips wanted to argue but her tearful eyes confirmed his allegation. “But instead of retreating into your grief, you picked breaking out of your shell. Way out.”
The grimace made its way up her face, except for the trust she continued in her gaze. He was doing what she’d forbade, all but writing the script for the straight-to-cable movie, but for now, she was willing to follow him. “I couldn’t not do anything. Everyone justified the decisions of those indie contractors by the buckets of cash they got paid. They were being painted as mercenaries. Many, like Ryker, would have done it for half the money.”
“And you wanted Washington to know that.”
“Damn straight I did.”
“Why didn’t you just write a letter?”
She shot a shrill laugh. “Yeah, that’s a good one—just like the response I got to the eight letters I did try.”
“So you chose to take the fight to DC’s door.”
She winced once more. Scooted herself into a sitting position against the headboard. “You keep saying I ‘chose’ to do those things. But—” Her own huff interrupted it. “Fine. I guess I see it now. I did have a choice. But at the time, it sure as hell didn’t feel like that.”
“Of course not.” He readjusted his own position, angling an arm across her body. Because of that, he was able to lean a few more inches into her personal space. “You were compelled by a power higher than you—in that case, your allegiance to Ryker’s memory—and it motivated you to push beyond your fears, all the way to Capitol Hill.”
She huffed softly. “But I wasn’t afraid.”
He grunted louder. “Liar.”
“I’m serious!”
“Remember who you’re talking to, gorgeous?” He tipped his head forward. “The guy who watched you break out in a cold sweat before a sound check in front of twenty staffers and a lame-as-hell sound crew?”
Who, now that he really thought about it, weren’t the seasoned union guys who should have been hired for such a high-profile event. Curious…
“Fine,” she finally muttered, adding a hard enough mmpphh of punctuation, the blanket lost its hold on her breasts. If she noticed the slip, she was too irked to care—and Franz sure as fuck wasn’t going to complain.
Still, he plunged on with the point. “You were scared, Tracy. It’s not a mortal sin. I’ve spent the better part of the last eleven years being scared.”
She was probably the third person, outside the team, to whom he’d ever offered the confession. First, there weren’t a lot of people who knew exactly what he did in the Army. Out of the people who did know, like Maki, Nani, and Lino, no way would they accept their “Big John”, ready to take on everything from ten-foot snakes to twelve-foot waves, had a fear-filled moment in his life. But when a guy specialized in unconventional warfare for a living, fear came in shapes and sizes that also broke the rules.
But if any civilian was going to get that, it would be Tracy Rhodes.
A gamble she proved worthy of, with the gentle hand she lifted to the center of his chest. “But you’ve had another power pushing you too?”
“Yeah.” He inhaled deeply. Exhaled the same way. “A lady I love deeply.” Before the troubled glint in her eyes got too intense, he clarified, “Her name is America.”
Her stare softened, turning the shade of morning mist, even as her fingers pressed his chest with more purpose. “So fear isn’t always such a bad thing.”
