Bring Him Home Read Online Free PDF Page B

confirmed his DNA.
    He refilled his plastic wine goblet, then pushed the call button. “How is she?” he heard himself ask. The hostess arrived before Claire could answer. “Another bottle of red, please.”
    The brunette hostess glanced at the two empty bottles on his tray and then instinctively at Claire.
    She shrugged. “I wish I had some influence, but I don’t.”
    Flustered, the other woman murmured, “Let me get that for you, sir,” and left.
    Claire speared him with those Viking blues. “Jules is struggling—like all the survivors. But we’re a support group for each other. Maybe you should try it.”
    Nate scowled. “Remember our deal. No one knows I’m home.”
    “Jules is my lawyer, Nate. You’d know that if you’d opened her mail.”
    Shit.
    “But don’t worry.” Claire bit into her cheese and cracker with a snap. “I’ll be sure to tell her we can’t care about you anymore.”
    “I’d appreciate that.”
    The hostess reappeared with a third bottle. Claire turned her attention to the in-flight romantic comedy, leaving Nate alone with the drink and his thoughts.
    No man left behind.
    He’d intended to carry Ross to relative safety and return. But in his heart he’d known there’d be no second chances. Risking his own life was one thing; risking Ross’s another. Steve had played on that and Nate had let him. And left him.
    Now all he remembered was the spark of relief when the decision was taken out of his hands. He didn’t want to die. I was only obeying orders. How many times through history had culpable men said that?
    The day he’d been awarded a valor medal was the second-worst day of his life. Thank God he’d resigned from the service before it was approved, otherwise he’d have been stuck with the military’s highest honor, the Victoria Cross. As a civilian, he’d escaped with the New Zealand Cross. A bravery medal for a coward. And even if he wasn’t a coward, he hadn’t deserved recognition.
    A hero would have found a way to save both.
    The rattle of a service cart pulled him out of his dark reverie and he realized the air hostesses were clearing dinner. Nate put up his tray table and settled his thin pillow against the window after a fruitless attempt to get more incline from his seat. Claire glanced at him, but didn’t try to reengage him in conversation. She was learning.
    Closing weary eyes, Nate tried to rest. He’d had a busy morning briefing his stand-in. Fortunately, he job shared Zander…no one could handle that ego 24-7…and it had been relatively easy to talk his counterpart into covering him for a few days. It had been much harder to find a volunteer bodyguard for his women’s-shelter work. He fell asleep to the soothing hum of the B747 engines.
    The dream was always the same. He was behind the wheel of the Humvee, trying to outdrive a pursuing foe, bumping and jolting through pitch-dark terrain, terrified and straining to see. Everyone was there.… Dan, Lee, Ross and Steve, unconscious and bloody. Only he could save them…except he was driving blind. He felt the vehicle lose terra firma.…
    Nate woke with a low groan, his temple pounding, and struggled to reorient himself. The cabin lay in darkness. Here and there the dim flash of screens indicated the insomniacs watching in-flight movies. Nate tensed as the cabin rattled under another pocket of turbulence. No wonder this dream had felt so real. A blanket lay over his legs. About to push it off, he realized his hand was intertwined with Claire’s.
    Turning his head, he saw her curled beside him, watching him anxiously. That someone had witnessed his distress hit him like an electric shock. Dismay must have shown in his face, because she closed her eyes, giving him privacy.
    But her fingers tightened on his.
    Nate suffered her comforting clasp a couple of minutes before he freed his hand. By then, his forehead was beaded with sweat.
    * * *
    A RRIVING IN HIS HOMELAND at dawn was another torture. The Kiwi