High Country Rebel

She caught the amusement in Talon’s eyes. “Yes. From the get-go we were tight. Maybe misery loves company, although the guys at the fire department never made it tough on Steve like they did to me.”

“But you had paramedic skills. That must have helped convince them.”

“It did. But it was Matt who stood by me. He fought for me and, fortunately, I was good at my job.”

“And how many years ago was that?”

“Seven,” Cat said, feeling the tension dissolve. She didn’t mind talking about her life from eighteen years old onward.

“Now are you fully accepted?”

“I am.”

“And why are you working out here at the Bar H on your days off?”

“Because I want to buy a house.”

He grinned. “What’s your dream house look like?”

She laughed a little, finishing off the vegetables. “You’ll laugh.”

“Try me.”

“Why do you want to know?” she challenged.

“Because I care.” He held her mutinous look. Cat really didn’t want anyone within those walls she had erected. He added gently, “Because you saved our lives this morning. I’d like to know more about you as a person.” That was the truth, but Talon didn’t add that he was attracted to her. If he admitted that, Cat might disappear.

Cat looked down. “I’m a very private person, Talon.”

He said nothing and resumed eating. Cat wasn’t someone to be pushed into a corner. She’d shut down, just as she had right now. There was definitely some baggage in her life.

“In some ways, you’re a shadow warrior like me,” he admitted.

“Is that what SEALs are? Shadow warriors?”

“Black ops always works in the shadows,” he told her. Talon handed Zeke another morsel of beef. The dog’s eyes were alight with happiness.

“Why did you join the SEALs?”

Talon studied Cat for a moment, trying to decide if she really wanted to know or if she was turning the tables on him and deflecting more questions. He decided she was genuine in her curiosity. “I wanted to make a difference.”

“You could have done that any number of ways. You didn’t have to be a SEAL to protect the country or do your patriotic duty.”

“I liked what they did,” Talon said. “I grew up hunting and tracking and felt my skills could be best used in that way.” His stomach tensed. They were going into forbidden territory. He didn’t want to talk too much about his work, his past.

“Sandy always loved getting your emails. She said there was a lot you couldn’t tell her.”

Nodding, Talon said, “My military life is top secret. I can never talk about it.”

“She said you’re a hero.”

Talon cringed inwardly. He didn’t feel like a hero. More like a failure. He’d failed to rescue Hayden. His mouth flexed. “I’m not.”

Cat regarded him for a moment, sensing his pain. Maybe it was in the sudden tightening of his face or the way his fork and knife hesitated over the food. “She said you’d earned two Silver Stars, a Bronze Star and two Purple Hearts. In my world, that makes you a hero even if we never know what you did to earn them.”

“They’re just medals,” he growled. “They mean nothing.”

Cat remained silent and cleaned up the rest of the food on her plate. She risked a look at him. His mouth was hard. Zeke was watching his master intently, as if sensing his withdrawal.

Standing, Cat said, “Do you want some dessert? Coffee? I’m going out to get mine.”

Talon shook his head and gave her his unfinished tray. “No...thanks. Tell Miss Gus it tasted good. I’m just not up to eating that much right now.”

There was misery in his expression. She ached for him. “After we’re done with dinner, are you up to walking down the hall to your room? I’ve got it ready for you.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I just need to rest a little bit.” Because he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, Hayden’s death. His inability to save him.

“Sure,” Cat murmured, taking the tray and putting it on top of hers. “I’ll be back later.”

Talon stretched out on the bed. Outside, it was dark. “Could you turn the light off when you leave?” he asked.

“Will do.”

* * *

“HOW IS TALON?” Gus asked as Cat sat down with her rhubarb pie with vanilla ice cream.

“He’s tired. His fever is lower, but he’s really underweight, and pneumonia can fell the strongest of men.”

“I had pneumonia once as a kid,” Griff said. “Miserable stuff. Took me almost a month to recover fully from it.”

“It’s nothing to mess with,” Gus agreed, grim. She looked over at Cat. “How’s Talon really doing?”

“I think he’s on an emotional roller coaster. He talked to Sandy and he’s upset,” Cat said.

“Anyone would be,” Val offered, giving Cat a gentle look. “How are you doing, Cat? You’re on the front lines with Talon. He’s got PTSD.”

“He sure does,” she admitted, enjoying the tart, sweet rhubarb pie. “I accidentally walked in and woke him up earlier. He sat up in the bed, his fists cocked, and the look in his eyes scared the hell out of me.”

Gus shook her head.

Val reached over and touched Gus’s arm. “Talon just left the hospital. He’d been wounded. I’m sure he’s reliving all the hell he went through.” She looked pointedly at Cat. “And you have to be careful with him. Those black ops guys, when they’re wounded, they pose a threat to the nurses and doctors. They’re taught how to kill with their hands and if you get too close to them accidentally, they can take you out. If you have to wake him, just stay by the door and call his name. That way, you’re not within arm’s reach.”

“That’s what he told me afterward,” Cat admitted. “Val, you’ve never talked much about your Air Force service or being an intelligence officer. How do you know so much about what Talon did?”

“Because from time to time, as an intelligence officer, I went out with black ops groups into the field. It was dangerous, clandestine work.”

Griff studied his wife. “And I’m glad you’re no longer doing it.”