Precious Cargo

by Brenna Zinn

  “Wait here,” he said. “Let me check this out.”

  Before he stepped down the short landing to the asphalt, Duke looked around the open area and patted his side. Other than the man smoking on the far end of the lot, he saw no one. His gun was still there, exactly where he wanted it to be, cocked, locked and ready to rock.

  As he came closer, the car the man rested against became clearer. The vehicle was a genuine piece of crap. Boxy, four doors and built sometime in the eighties. The ugly relic of the past was painted a shade of green that could only be described as baby puke. Or at least the spots in between the areas not eaten away by rust were green. There was no way the car could have been a beauty, even when it came off the factory floor.

  “You thinking about selling this thing?” Duke asked in Ukrainian to the leaning man when he got within earshot.

  “It’s a junker,” the man responded, also in Ukrainian. He flicked his cigarette and stood. “But it still runs good, once you get it started.” He adjusted his cap, revealing more of his face. “It can get you where you want to go, as long as it’s not too far.”

  Tall, muscular and lean, the man had a good two inches on Duke, though he wasn’t as big. He had no facial hair and the wisps peeking out from his hat appeared to be light brown, possibly a dirty blond. In the bad lighting, it was hard to tell. Overall, the man was nondescript. The perfect type for CIA.

  The man kept his hands to his sides. Though he looked casual, Duke understood the stance. The man had a gun and could draw it with no problem, if needed.

  “I’m looking for a guy named Paco. You heard of him?”

  The name was what Laramie had told Duke to use. A common enough name in Spain, but hardly one used in Ukraine.

  The man smiled. “I have. I’m his uncle Sam.”

  The sequence of words was complete. He’d found his guy. Laramie had pulled through.

  Duke stretched out his arm, offering his hand. “Gunnison. Former Army Special Forces.”

  “Dupree. Former CIA.” He grabbed Duke’s hand and shook. “I understand you need to borrow a car for the evening.”

  “That’s the way of it.”

  “Then she’s all yours.” He slid his hand into his pocket, pulled out a single key on a key ring, then twirled the key around a finger. “So how do you know Laramie?”

  “We’re working on an assignment together. You?”

  “He’s an old coworker of mine. I owe him a favor or two.”

  “Well, looks like I’m in debt to him now too.”

  An all-knowing smile crossed Dupree’s face.

  Favors and debts. Two ways friends were tested and things got done, especially for military types.

  “I’m sure Laramie’s only doing his job. He’s a good guy, and one hell of an agent. Or he used to be. Shame he left.”

  “I can’t say that I know that much about him.”

  “For the sake of simplicity, let’s just say the man is about as close to a real-life James Bond as you’ll ever meet.” Dupree absentmindedly tossed the key into the air and caught it. “Laramie knows his stuff, backwards and forwards. He also knows just about everyone worth knowing. He’s a good guy to have on your side.”

  So, there was more to the Boy Scout than met the eye. He’d have to ask Laramie to fill him in when they were safe in Budapest.

  “Good to know. Thanks.” Duke waved Mila over. “I brought a date.”

  Dupree glanced over to Mila as she navigated to where they stood.

  “She’s one hell of a date. I don’t suppose she has a sister.”

  “Sorry. One and done, and this one is all mine.”

  When Mila arrived, they exchanged quick pleasantries, then Dupree handed Duke the key.

  “Leave her in the parking lot at the airport. She’s pretty easy to spot. I’ve got another set of keys, so just put those in the glove compartment and lock her up. I doubt anyone will think twice about breaking in and stealing her. If they do, good riddance.”

  “Will do.”

  “There’s also a room key under the driver’s seat. You’re checked in at the hotel Laramie suggested. All you need to do is get there and park. You’re set.”

  Ah, nothing better than a plan that comes together.

  Duke opened the passenger door and Mila slipped in. Before walking around to the driver’s side, he once again extended his hand to Dupree.

  “Thanks. I now owe you one.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” They shook, but Dupree held on and pulled Duke close enough to speak directly in his ear. “Be careful. If Ivanov is the guy you’re dealing with, then you’ll have your hands full. He’s a real piece of work. Nobody you want to cross hairs with. Right now he’s in the middle of a territorial battle with Dmytro Kozak, the local crime boss. Kozak isn’t as big time as Ivanov, but he’s been around a good long while. He’s not gotten as old as he is because he’s a dummy, and he’s not too keen on Ivanov trying to cut into his local business. Those gentlemen are two parts to a time bomb just waiting to explode.”

  “Great. Any other sage advice?”

  Dupree shifted his gaze to where Mila sat in the car and slapped Duke on the back.

  “No advice, but a request. If your date decides to take someone else to the prom, be sure to give her my number.”

  Duke grinned, jumped in the driver’s seat and drove away.

  Lutsk wasn’t a big city. It boasted a population of over two-hundred thousand residents and had a decent enough railway station and airport, but was a far cry from Kiev and even Odessa in terms of size and prestige. Thus the hotel choices they had in town were somewhat limited, and there wasn’t much available outside of town for miles. Laramie, who had completed several missions in the area, knew the local landscape better and therefore called the shots. Had they all been in Crimea or eastern Ukraine, Duke’s playground, he would have taken over.

  Considering how much had been accomplished in the short time he and Mila had been gone, Laramie had proven his worth. But as Duke scoped out the hotel the Boy Scout had sent them to, he couldn’t help questioning the man’s taste.

  The five-story building looked like one of the original structures to the town. Old. Tired. Needing a good update, if not an entire tear-down and rebuild. Thankfully their stay was only one night. As long as the bed was soft, the sheets were clean and the shower had plenty of hot water, they would manage.

  Duke located the key under the seat. He hadn’t seen anything of the like in ages. The key wasn’t a card, like most places now used. Instead it was an actual metal key attached to a thin piece of lacquered wood, the name of the hotel painted on both sides.

  They entered the building from the back, the only way in aside from the front door. Avoiding the elevator, which would have forced them to get far too close to the front desk, they took the stairs up to the second floor. There, marble tiles covered the hallway floor. Heavy oil paintings of Lutsk and the countryside hung on walls covered in red velvet wallpaper. Compared to the outside, the interior appeared quite updated, albeit strong smelling. At least it looked as though it had been renovated within the last fifty years.

  They quietly made their way to the room and encountered a musty smell in the stuffy air that couldn’t be ignored. As they passed a canvas laundry cart outside a maid’s closet in the corridor, he discovered where the smell was emanating from. Damp towels speckled with mold were heaped into the cart. The damn mess had to have been sitting there for ages.

  “Oph! That’s disgusting.” Mila waved a hand in front of her wrinkled nose.

  “True,” he agreed, holding back a gag. “Hopefully everything else in this joint is a hell of a lot cleaner.”

  He let out a sigh of relief when he unlocked the door and checked their room. The antique furnishings were a little ornate for his liking, but they were in good enough. A settee and a simple chair sat not far from an old console television. Across the room was a four-poster bed outfitted with comfortable-looking bedding. Two sets of Frenc
h doors leading to Juliette balconies provided a nice view to the city. And, halle-freakin-lujah, there was no smell. No mold or mildew. The room would do. God knew he’d stayed in much worse places.

  After locking the door and setting the security chain in place, for all the good it would do, he made a quick search of the closet, under the bed and in the bathroom. The place was empty. No bad guys. Nothing suspicious to worry about. No dirty linens.

  “It’s not too bad.” Mila picked a piece of lint from the top of the chair and examined it. “This isn’t the Ritz, but we’re only here for a few hours.” Brushing her hands, she looked around the room then stopped when her eyes found the bed. Her gaze traveled quickly from the bed to Duke and back again.

  “Are the sleeping arrangements going to be a problem?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  “Ah, no. Not at all.” She tossed her purse onto the chair.

  The slight quiver in her voice and the lack of color on her cheeks suggested something entirely different.

  She continued glancing around and zeroed in on a brochure lying on a side table. She picked it up, her hand shaking slightly.

  “They have room service. Thank God. I want an order of everything. And wine. I’m dying for a glass of wine.”

  “And I’ve been dying for a chance to do this.”

  Duke plucked the brochure from her grasp and pitched it, not caring where it landed. He grabbed hold of her arms and drew her close, reveling in her familiar scent. She wore the same perfume as she had in Crimea. The sweet floral fragrance triggered an ache deep within, taking him back to when they had first been together. Chemistry, passion, love. They had all three in spades, and he still desired her as much as he had then.

  He leaned to cover her lips with his then stopped.

  Mila hadn’t moved. Nor did she make an effort to return his affection. Other than a brief shiver that rippled down her back and arms, she stood still, her breathing fast and uneven.

  He placed a hand on her chin then lifted, guiding her gaze to his. He searched those light brown eyes, hoping to find some indication of her feelings. There he saw shadows of fear and uncertainly lurking in the warm depths.

  She was nervous. Most likely, she didn’t trust him. He couldn’t blame her.

  As badly as he wanted to taste her sweet pink lips, he simply couldn’t. Not yet. He had to move slowly.

  He let go of her chin.

  “This is hard for me,” she whispered on a choppy exhale.

  “I know.”

  “A big part of me wants to rip off your shirt and pants, and toss you onto that bed.”

  That revelation caused a zip of lust to shoot directly to his groin. He’d like to rip off her shirt and pants too, and then take as much time as he liked getting reacquainted with every inch of her delectable body.

  “That sounds pretty good to me, darlin’. If you make a move, I won’t try to stop you.”

  She sighed. “But there’s another part of me that realizes I don’t even know who you are. I’m not even sure if Duke is your real name.”

  “It’s not. That’s my nickname. My real name is Marion. My dad was a big John Wayne fan. So when I was born, he named me Marion after John Wayne’s real name, but ended up calling me Duke. The name stuck.”

  “Marion.” She said the word as though testing it. “It’s a good name. Do you have any family?”

  He didn’t doubt her question was geared toward discovering if he was married. She was, indeed, very much like her father.

  “I have a sister who lives in Texas. My parents are alive and living in Louisiana. I have a bunch of relatives there. I think just about everyone who lives in our parish is related to me in one way or another.”

  “Oh.” She frowned.

  Evidently he hadn’t given her the information she’d wanted.

  “If you’re wondering if I have a wife at home, I don’t. I’ve never been married. I don’t have a girlfriend either. Haven’t had one since I graduated from high school. I guess you could say the United States Army was more important to me than chasing the fairer sex. And I want you to know, I’ve not so much as touched another woman since I left Crimea. I’ve had absolutely no desire to.”

  Relief seemed to roll off her shoulders.

  “Aside from my family, especially my grandmother,” he continued, “I’ve only had one love in my life.”

  He paused, letting the statement sink in.

  “And I’m happy to say she’s in my arms right now. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. She’s smart, sassy and sexy as hell.” Duke brushed a curly lock of her long brown hair from her cheek to behind her ear, relishing the softness of her skin. “If I play my cards right, I’m hoping she’ll one day she’ll forgive me and love me back.”

  Mila looked away.

  He said words he’d thought she wanted to hear. Words that would open the door to building trust between them. Words that came straight from his heart.

  I’ve never felt this way about anyone.

  I want to be with you.

  I…I love you.

  But, he reminded himself, she had just told him she didn’t know him.

  Although he didn’t think there was much to know about him, and what there was to know wasn’t all that important, she clearly thought differently. She needed more time.

  Or did she?

  Jesus, love was a complicated, unpredictable animal.

  “Mila,” he said, turning her face to meet his. “I don’t want you to feel rushed or pressured. I know you need a little time to trust me again. Luckily, I’ve got all the time in the world. I’m not planning on going anywhere until you and I have things completely figured out. If that’s okay by you.”

  The corners of her lips turned up. A happy light shone brightly in her amber eyes.

  He was just about to make another smart-ass comment about how he guessed her smile was her answer, when she stood on tiptoes, placed her hands on both sides of his face and delivered a kiss that left him reeling.

  She grabbed his shirt and undid the first button. Then the second.

  “I thought you were hungry,” he said on a labored breath. “Wine and all that.”

  She glanced up from under dark lashes. “I think I can wait another ten minutes to order.”

  “Ten minutes? Darlin’, I may be only a few years shy of forty, but I’m pretty sure I can go longer than ten minutes.”

  “Then prove it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Duke picked her up and strode to the bed, barely bothering to check where he was stepping. His gaze was trained on hers. Desire burned in his blue-gray eyes, stirring the dozens of butterflies in her stomach into a frenzy. He wanted her, and God how she wanted him. The kiss they’d just shared was only a tiny teaser. She was ready for more.

  He laid her on the bed, then stepped back while taking her in, from her head to her toes. He reached for the next button on his shirt. She started to protest, wanting the task for herself, but he held a finger to his lips.

  “You stay put. Don’t move,” he said, removing his gun and placing it on the side table.

  She did as he asked, and watched as he worked loose each button on his shirt, the snap on his jeans, his zipper. With amazing agility, he stood on one leg and tugged at his snakeskin boot until it slipped from his foot, then repeated the process. He withdrew his arms from his shirtsleeves and tossed the garment on the floor. He peeled off his pants, revealing a snug pair of orange boxers.

  “Orange?” She couldn’t help but ask. When she’d been with him last, the underwear he’d worn was basic and white. The ones he had on now looked soft, silky, dare she say…expensive?

  “Good briefs make me feel energetic when I dress. Kinda sexy, don’t you think?” He waggled his brows.

  And he was sexy. The sexiest man she’d ever seen. He could have taken her breath and caused her pulse to race wearing filthy rags. And although he bore scars on his back, his torso and his legs, his body was nothing less than magnif
icent. Long cords of muscle roped up his arms and down his legs. Steely slabs covered his chest and arced in defined rows across his abdomen. Beneath his navel, a smattering of dark blond curls led down to the waistband of his orange underwear. The bulge there providing considerable evidence of a very healthy libido.

  She swallowed against her rising anticipation. She’d seen him nude before. Several times. She’d cleaned his wounds when he’d been injured. Bathed him when he couldn’t manage to do so on his own. Made love to him when he was well enough and she could no longer resist her attraction. But two years had passed since the last time they’d been intimate together. Like him, she hadn’t been with any other person since he’d left. Two years was a long time. In some ways, she felt as though she was witnessing a striptease by a handsome stranger. There was a sense of newness. Novelty. Excitement. As well as a touch of inhibition.

  Duke bent to remove his briefs. When he stood up, naked and glorious, a cocky half-grin had spread on his face. His penis was thick and erect, and extended well past his golden nest of curls.

  Deep within, her heart banged against her ribs, quickening her pulse. Her internal temperature rose, sending heated blood to her skin, her head and the softening juncture between her legs. The simple top and jeans she wore were again as uncomfortable as they had been at the train station. At least now relief was in sight, hopefully in more ways than one.

  Mila lifted herself onto her elbows, not wanting to miss the amazing view. His golden hair hung loosely to his shoulders, framing a face chiseled with a strong jawline and high cheekbones. His eyes, now narrowed with desire, bore into hers. With each step, different muscles in his arms, stomach and thighs extended and flexed. His penis swayed with the movement, first right, then to the left and back to the right again. He was simply beautiful.

  He sat on the side of the bed, causing the mattress to dip under his added weight. “Now you,” he said, his voice husky.

  He carefully removed her shoes, jeans and shirt, letting them fall as they may onto the floor. The lack of clothing and the coolness of the room caused goose pimples to rise all over her exposed body. Her nipples hardened to small peaks.