The Heart Beneath Read online

  Her lips curved ruefully. “Yes, the second thought after I was so rudely pulled from sleep this morning was about you.”

  “Care to share?” He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. People were hurrying all around them. There were at least thirty noisy, smelly diesel-fueled trucks of military convoy rumbling slowly down the street toward the main gates of Camp Reed, packed with life-giving supplies for needy people outside the base.

  Feeling his warmth, his care, Callie looked up at Wes. He had such a little-boy smile hovering across his mouth. A mouth that had cherished her lips and made her feel so incredibly happy. Callie had never realized she could feel like that. “I don’t want to give you a swelled head.”

  “Oh, that’s already a foregone conclusion.”

  She liked his teasing. It gave her the confidence to tease him in return. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “But I can be rescued.”

  “Oh?” She saw his mouth broaden with a good-natured smile.

  “A kiss will revive me.”

  “You’re such a glutton for punishment, Lieutenant.”

  “But,” Wes sighed, meeting her shining eyes, which were filled with laughter, “you can save me from a fate worse than death.”

  “Right,” she chortled. “Instead of mouth-to-mouth CPR, you’ll revive with a kiss.”

  “One kiss will do it all,” he promised her solemnly. How Wes liked to see Callie brighten and become playful. This was a new side to her and one he liked immensely. He knew her work was hard and serious; yet she had a sense of humor, despite the grueling and grim career path she’d chosen.

  As she stood with her hands in the pockets of her jacket, Callie said, “You know what? I’m a coward, Wes.”

  “What?” He stepped down off the curb so that they were nearly at eye level. By the way her brows knit, she was serious. “Not in my view you aren’t. Not ever.”

  She shrugged unhappily. “No…I meant a coward in an emotional sense. Like…last night. After I got Dusty taken care of, I was afraid.” Callie avoided his sharpened stare. “I was afraid to come over to the B.O.Q. because I really wanted to boldly walk up to your room, knock on it and go take that shower with you.”

  “I see….” Wes saw her struggling with a lot of emotions. She was so easy to read, and he found himself wanting to reach out and touch her, soothe her, but he couldn’t.

  “I’m a coward in that sense.” Callie sighed. “I guess because what few relationships I’ve had were all certifiable disasters in one way or another. I got used to being hit on as a convenient piece of meat that was around to take to bed to gratify a guy’s urges.”

  “Ouch,” Wes muttered. He sighed. “Oh, boy…and I’ve been coming on strong to you, too. You probably thought the same thing?” He had tried to tell her that his desire for her was much more than sex.

  Nodding, Callie added, “I feel this urgency to be with you. It’s such a different feeling here, in my heart. You were so gut-wrenchingly honest with me last night in the tent that it scared me. I saw you were being honest. It wasn’t a line with you.” She gave him a twisted smile. “I think I’ve lived long enough and been around the block enough times to know the difference.” Callie wanted to broach the subject of whether he still only felt desire or whether his heart was involved, but she was afraid. She could see the wariness in Wes’s eyes and knew he was thinking of his loss of Allison. No, he wouldn’t share his heart with her, and that broke hers.

  “Okay,” he murmured, “so where does that leave us?”

  “Scared.”

  He grinned and nodded. “I am, too, Callie.” Several cargo-laden trucks roared by, and Wes didn’t try to speak until they’d passed.

  The desire to reach out and grip his hand nearly overwhelmed Callie. “See? That’s the part that’s got me scared, Wes. Your brutal honesty. No man I’ve ever met was up front like you are. And I know it’s not a line to get me in bed.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “I just know it in here.” And she did. The sizzling look he gave her, loaded with desire, sent her pulse soaring.

  “So, let’s take this a day at a time,” Wes suggested. “God knows, we’re going to be working until we drop out there at our assignment. Let’s dream about going dancing over at the O Club. Or maybe even a picnic at the beach?”

  “And if I can steal a moment with you alone, can I have that kiss?” Callie gave him a soft, teasing smile. “You think you’re the only one who wants one? I do, too.”

  Chapter Nine

  January 6: 0600

  Everything was quiet. Callie moved sluggishly around her tent after feeding Dusty. They had been out on their grid for two days now, and the R and R seemed like a dream. She was down on her hands and knees, putting the bright-red vest on Dusty, when Wes appeared at the opened flap of her tent.

  “Got a minute?” he asked, his voice low.

  Instantly, Callie’s heart beat hard. “Sure. Come on in.”

  Wes gave her a grin and slipped inside. He sat down on her cot, which she’d just made up. “Everyone else is still asleep. I thought I’d be selfish and leave them in their tents for ten minutes and share the time with you.”

  Grinning sheepishly, Callie patted Dusty’s head after she’d arranged the vest on the dog. “You must have heard me thinking about you.”

  Clasping his hands between his opened thighs, Wes caught and held her wide blue gaze. Since returning to the Hoyt location, she’d noted that demands on his time had tripled. And so had the number of tents and personnel. She now had her own tent. Callie had been over with his crew on Dexter Street, where a three-story apartment building had collapsed. Many of the people had already been dug out by neighbors, but there were some portions that only a crane or cherry picker could handle.

  “So, you were thinking about me?” he teased.

  “Yeah, I was.” Callie watched as the gray light of dawn crept in on them. In the distance, fires were still in evidence, but most had burned themselves out over the last few days. The rain earlier in the week had helped to snuff out many of them. The sky was blanketed with a thick, black layer of smoke, though. Dusty sat next to her, and she continued to stroke his head and neck.

  “Can I get nosy and ask what you were thinking?” Wes hungrily absorbed Callie’s face, her expression and the way her mouth curved.

  “Oh, it might swell your head some more.”

  Chuckling, Wes removed his cammo cap and ran his fingers through his short hair. He gave her a rueful look. “I had that coming.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Well, I was thinking about you all day yesterday and last night before I went to sleep. Want to hear my thoughts?”

  “Sure, I’m a glutton for punishment.” She laughed. Wes made her feel hope. All day yesterday, Callie had worked nonstop with Dusty. They’d found five people—three dead, but two still alive. Sergeant Perkins had found five more in their absence and that made everyone search even harder. By midnight she’d been exhausted, and Wes had ordered her back to their little tent city, which had now grown to twenty tents.

  “Actually,” he said, “I had more questions than anything else.”

  “Oh?”

  He watched how her small hands stroked the dog, who was lapping up her every touch. Wes found himself wishing Callie would one day stroke him with such fondness. “I was wondering what you hoped for in your life.” He knew he had no right to ask her such private and intimate questions, but he couldn’t help himself. He knew his feelings had moved dangerously beyond desire, but something was driving him and he was helpless to stop it.

  She sat down on the floor and Dusty lay beside her, his head resting in her lap. Giving Wes a thoughtful look, she said, “I never dreamed of being in a dog rescue unit. I joined the Marine Corps because my father had been a marine, and his father before him. I saw it as a place to make a steady source of income for my family. There’s too many corporations out in the civilian world that will fire you or get rid of you in favor of their sh
areholders. I wanted something more reliable than that.”

  “Are you saying you don’t have a dream of what you want your life to be like?”

  Callie grinned up at him. “I create it as I go on a daily basis. How’s that?”

  Laughing, Wes said, “My dad had my whole life planned for me. I guess we’re opposites on this.”

  “You wanted to build things and help people,” Callie pointed out, “so I feel you’re following your dream. Just not the way your dad planned, is all.”

  Giving her a searching look, Wes asked, “Did you have any personal dreams for yourself? Ever? Or did your father’s injury wipe them out?”

  Moving her fingers along Dusty’s golden coat, she murmured, “I guess not, Wes. My dad got injured when I was young, so I grew up knowing that I had to help my family in any way I could.” Callie shrugged and said, “I guess I’m not very glamorous, am I?”

  “In my eyes,” he told her in a low, emotional tone, “you’re incredible. You care for others. You aren’t selfish.” He leaned forward and slid his fingers beneath her chin. “There’s so much good in you, Callie.” He saw her eyes flare as he caressed her cheek, which was growing warm and pink. Wes was discovering that she had no way to shield her reactions from him, and that made him desire her even more. “You don’t play games. You’re the salt of the earth.”

  As his fingers left her cheek, Callie wanted to get up, throw her arms around him and kiss him until she drowned in his embrace, melted into his heart. There was no question that Wes was sincere and serious about a possible relationship with her. It hurt to remind herself that it was only desire, not love.

  Outside, she heard some of the other marines talking as they woke and started moving around. Wes heard them, too.

  He gave her a rueful look. “I think I’d better go.”

  “Yes…”

  He got up and slipped out of her tent. Because she was the same rank as he, the others would expect them to be talking and planning together. Still, Callie was sensitive to what it looked like, and she knew Wes was, too. She saw him hesitate at the flap, turn and give her a wink.

  “Be careful over at that apartment building this morning,” he warned her.

  “I will….”

  Wes closed the flap to her tent and was gone. She felt bereft. Dusty whined as if in sympathy.

  “You miss him, too?” she asked her dog softly as she leaned down and pressed her cheek against his silky head. “What am I going to do, Dusty? His heart is off-limits.” Closing her eyes, Callie sighed brokenly. “It’s like allowing myself only half of him. My heart wants him, but he only desires me.”

  Lifting her head, she gazed down into the dog’s liquid eyes. “Can I do this? Can I just bring my desire and not my heart to him?”

  Dusty whined.

  With a sigh, Callie got up and buckled on his harness. The apartment building was about half a mile away. She knew the other marines would be over there after a quick MRE breakfast. Having already eaten, she gathered up a handful of dried dog biscuits and put them in the thigh pocket of her cammos to give to Dusty throughout the day. His work was as hard as hers, and he would need the extra food rations to keep going, probably well into the night.

  January 6: 2200

  Callie was in the middle of the apartment complex rubble, up at the top where the third floor had once been when Dusty’s excited barking split the air. Below, the bulldozer and front-end loader were working to clear debris. Most of the people, civilians who lived in the area, had left the site, going to their makeshift headquarters for a meal. She and Dusty were all alone on top of the rubble in the cool night breeze.

  Dropping to her hands and knees, Callie called down into the layers of splintered wooden walls, broken window frames and steel rebar that twisted up and outward like pretzels gone awry. Dusty was panting excitedly, all his attention directed to where she was crouching. He was digging frantically, telling her someone was under there.

  “Hello…can you hear me? This is Callie.”

  She waited. The roar of the bulldozer and crane drifted toward her. Turning her head, Callie pressed her ear as close as she could to the debris, her heart thudding.

  “…Help!…I’m trapped…get me out…get me out….” The weakened voice of a man drifted back toward her.

  “What’s your name, sir?”

  Again Callie waited. Dusty whined excitedly. She shushed him and told him to sit down. Obediently, he sat, his tail thumping.

  “…Al…Al Gordon. You gotta get me outta here….”

  Callie yelled back, her hands cupped to her mouth. “Okay, Al. Hang on. Can you tell me what your medical condition is?”

  “…My arm’s broke. I can’t move. I got a wall pushin’ in on my left side….”

  “I hear you, Al. Hold on, I’ll get help.” Callie sat back on her heels and pulled the cell phone from her web belt. The procedure was the same: call Wes, report in, and then he’d direct people and equipment to help her.

  Within minutes Wes had shown up, along with Private Bertram and Corporal Orlando. She was glad to see him with the crew. First, they set up four lights below, the small gasoline-powered generator providing the electricity to help with the rescue efforts. Then they clambered up the teetering mound of debris where she stood.

  Hungrily, Callie absorbed Wes’s exhausted features. The darkness of his beard accentuated his lean face. When their eyes met, Callie wanted to throw herself into his arms, but resisted. He gave her a lopsided smile. Leaning down, he patted Dusty’s head.

  “Got a live one?” he asked.

  “Yes, down here. Name’s Al Gordon. He sounds elderly. And weak.”

  “He’s been stuck there for seven days,” Wes muttered.

  Nodding, Callie looked around. “I’m glad you came. I don’t know where to begin here. Everything is really unstable on this third floor.” It was unusual to find someone alive after day six, but Callie had seen it happen.

  Wes gazed around. The aftershocks were becoming less frequent and less intense, thankfully. Compared to the first day, when they’d had eighty-three tremors, Wes was glad to see the numbers dropping to twenty or thirty.

  Callie stood there looking bedraggled in her camouflage uniform. She was so small that no matter what she wore, it looked too big on her slender frame. Her face was smudged with dirt, her hair damp and clinging to her temples. Even though it was in the fifties tonight, her work was hard, and perspiration gleamed across her face and neck.

  Just as he was going to speak, the earth began to roar. Aftershock! The tremor began shaking the entire area. Wes was caught off guard by the sharp, jerking motion. In a split second, he was thrown off his feet. He heard Callie cry out, but he was flying through the air and couldn’t help her.

  Wes crashed into the rubble on his back, the air knocked out of his lungs momentarily. He heard other members of his team shouting in surprise. As soon as he could draw a breath, he quickly rolled over and scrambled to his feet. In the grayish light, he saw that Callie had been knocked down, too. She lay unmoving above him. No!

  Instantly, Wes climbed over to where she lay on her side, her limbs inert. Terror ate at him. Dusty was at her side, whining.

  Another aftershock occurred. Again they were all thrown off their feet, jerked about like puppets. Wes cursed, threw his arms up over his head for protection and slammed back into the wreckage with a loud grunt. As soon as the aftershock rolled by, he lunged to his feet again along with Bertram and Orlando, who had also seen Callie go down.

  Had she been punctured in the neck by that dangerous rebar? Although her flak jacket protected her torso, it didn’t reach her neck. Terror coursed through Wes. He climbed up and over the debris toward her. She lay unconscious.

  Breathing hard, Wes fell to his knees. He knew enough not to move Callie. If she had spinal injury, moving her could paralyze her. She was lying on her side, and looked like a broken rag doll. Anxiously, Wes glanced around her. He saw a chunk of concrete nearby and
noticed a dent on the side of the protective helmet she wore.

  “Callie?” His voice was urgent as he gently laid his hand on her shoulder. Wes didn’t shake her again, because of the danger of possible spinal injury. Instead, he squeezed her shoulder hard with his fingers. “Callie? Can you hear me? It’s Wes. Wake up. Come on, wake up…please….”

  The other marines gathered around. Sergeant Cove, their EMT, came running up to them.

  “Get up here, Sergeant. I need you,” Wes ordered.

  “Yes, sir!” he scrambled up the huge pile of debris. His face fell when he saw Callie lying there unconscious, and then he quietly got to work, setting his bright-red canvas medical bag down and pulling out a pair of latex gloves. Once the gloves were on, he settled down on his knees and gently picked up her limp wrist, placing two fingers against the inside to take her pulse. Bertram and Orlando leaned down near Cove to watch.

  She couldn’t be hurt! Wes tried to keep the emotion out of his voice as he spoke to her again. Her face was pale and washed out. He looked up at Cove. “Well?” He couldn’t erase the desperation from his low voice.

  “Pulse is good, Lieutenant. Ninety. That’s normal.” Cove pointed to her dented helmet. “She probably hit that block of concrete over there when the aftershock hit.” He leaned over her, his ear near her nose and mouth. “And she’s breathing okay. Sixteen to twenty respirations a minute is normal, and she’s doing sixteen. We shouldn’t move her in case there’s spinal injury. Just keep talking to her and she’ll probably come around in a minute or two.”

  “A concussion, maybe?” Wes wondered aloud. How badly he wanted to grab Callie, hold her and keep her safe. Oh, he knew her job was dangerous, but this drove the truth home in his aching heart. He was so scared he didn’t know what to do.

  “Most likely, sir. That would be my first guess.”

  Callie moaned. She felt Wes’s steadying hand on her shoulder. His voice was taut and worried. She opened her eyes. The world spun before her.

  “She’s comin’ around, sir,” Barry said happily, and he flashed his lopsided grin.