âWhy Would You Want To Help Me? You Donât Even Know Me.â
Mack kept his gaze fixed on hers. âI know more than you might think. I know that the father of your baby isnât going to be around to take care of you or the child.â
Addyâs jaw dropped, then closed with an angry click of teeth. âYou donât know any such thing.â
âYes, I do,â he replied calmly. âIf his past actions are any indication, youâll never hear from Ty again.â
Her eyes widened. âYouâyou know Ty?â
âHeâs my half brother.â
âYou mean, you knew about me and the baby beforeââ
âYes, thatâs why I dropped by your house. I was there to offer you money.â
Steam all but came out of her ears. âWell, you can tell Ty to keep his damn money. I donât want it.â
âThe moneyâs not Tyâs. Itâs mine.â
âWell, I donât want your money, either, Mack McGruder.â She pointed a stiff finger at the door. âGet out. And donât bother coming back.â
published her first romance with Silhouette in 1989, and continues to delight readers with stories set in her home state of Texas. Winner of the National Readersâ Choice Award, a nominee for Romantic Times BOOKclub Reviewerâs Choice Award and a two-time finalist for the prestigious RITA>® Award, Peggyâs books frequently appear on the USA Today and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. When not writing, you can usually find Peggy outside, tending the cattle, goats and other critters on the ranch she shares with her husband. You may write to Peggy at P.O. Box 1099, Florence, TX 76527-1099, or e-mail her at [email protected].
War is fear cloaked in courage.
âWilliam Westmoreland
Smoke hung in the air cloaking the darkness, its acrid scent burning the noses of the soldiers hiding in the tall grass. Some had taken advantage of the lull in activity and had stretched out, eyes closed, their guns held at the ready across their chests, their packs pillowed beneath their heads. Others were hunkered down, watchingâ¦and waiting.
Antonio Rocci, or Romeo as he was called by his friends, wanted to sleep but couldnât. Fear kept his eyes open and his ears cocked for any sound of movement in the inky darkness. In the distance, red embers and thin curls of smoke marked where a small village had once stood. Reconnaissance had reported that Vietcong soldiers had infiltrated the village and were using the area to store artillery. Earlier that day, while the sun was still up, an air attack had taken place. Constructed mainly of grasses and bamboo gathered from the surrounding countryside, the hooches that had once formed the small village had gone up like dry kindling. All that remained were burning embers and the cloying smell of smoke.
When morning came, it was the job of Romeo and the other soldiers in his unit to go into the village and search for the cache of artillery and ammunition reportedly hidden there. A side duty was checking for survivors and counting the dead. Bile rose in Romeoâs throat at the thought of what he might face, and he quickly swallowed it down. Itâs war, he reminded himself. Itâs either us or them, and heâd a hell of a lot rather it be them.
âRomeo?â
He jumped at the voice, then forced the tension from his body when he realized it was Pops, their team leader, who had spoken.
He set his jaw to steady his voice, hide the fear. âOver here.â
He heard a slight rustle of grass, and angled his head, watching as Popâs shadowed form moved closer.
âYou okay?â Pops whispered.
Romeo released his grip on his gun long enough to drag his arm across the nervous perspiration that beaded his forehead, then settled his finger over the trigger again. âYeah, but Iâd feel a whole lot better if I knew we were the only ones out here.â
âYeah,â Pops agreed soberly. âI hear you.â
Silence settled between them, as both continued to watch the darkness.
Romeo would never admit it, but he felt safer, less vulnerable with Pops at his side. Older than most of the others in the unit, Popsâthe nickname given to Larry Blair by the rest of the teamâhad already completed one tour of duty in Vietnam and was working on his second. Romeo couldnât imagine why anyone would willingly sign on for another tour. From the day heâd arrived in country, heâd felt as if heâd been dropped down into the bowels of hell and couldnât wait for the day he could board the plane that would carry him home.
âPops?â
âYeah?â
âDo you ever regret signing on for a second tour?â
âNo sense regretting what you canât change.â
Romeo angled his head to peer at the man whose opinion he respected as much as he would his fatherâs. âDo you ever get scared, Pops?â