by Kat Smith
Devan was relieved that Alex was in the other room. “Ma’am...”
“Consider it an order, Captain.”
Devan felt herself standing at attention. “Yes, ma’am.”
The strain eased a bit in Mara’s voice. “Good. Now both of you get some rest.”
“Yes, ma’am. Goodbye.” Devan disconnected the call and turned to see Alex leaning against the door watching her, a sleepy amused smile on her face.
Alex filled the kettle and put it on the stove. “Your whole demeanor changes when you talk to the colonel.”
Devan returned to the kettle. “No, it doesn’t.”
Alex opened the freezer. “You’re just like an obedient child.” She pulled out frozen bagels. “Want one?”
Devan nodded. “She’s probably the only person that can kick my ass.” Devan scrunched her face. “She’s spooky. It’s like she can read my mind.” Her eyes went wide, and she blew out a breath. “And that stare of hers. Good God Almighty. It makes my stomach knot.”
Alex dropped two bagels into the toaster. “She has a formidable presence, that’s for sure, but she’s soft where you’re concerned.”
Devan pffft’d in defiance. “She definitely does not have a soft spot for me.”
“She works you twice as hard, holds you to a higher standard, yes?”
“Damn straight.”
“She has a soft spot for you but works hard not to show it.”
“Well, your boss isn’t any better. I think they both took advanced courses in intimidation and coercion.”
The kettle began to scream, and Alex poured the water into two cups and dropped in tea bags. She laughed for the first time since their return to the house. “Probably. They’re strong, determined women, not an asset for a female when they were coming up through the ranks.”
“I guess you’re right.”
Alex tipped milk into their cups of tea. “I’m always right.”
Devan became aware of how easy and comfortable they moved around each other in the kitchen. It was if they had never been apart. She hot-fingered the bagels from the toaster and dropped them on twin saucers. “Now you’re delirious. You’re going to bed after we finish our snack.”
Alex laughed. “Oh, you didn’t tell me we were having a snack.”
The carefully balanced teacups and saucers teetered precariously on the tray in Devan’s hands. She’d forgotten that having a snack had been their coded phrase for sneaking off and grabbing a quickie when things were slow at the base. She looked back at Alex, shook her head, and grinned. “Grab the damn jam.”
Jacob drove another two hours and finally admitted that he’d reached his limit. He waited until there were no other vehicles in front or behind before killing the headlights and backing down a long dirt path. He sat quietly in the forest listening for any sounds around him.
He pulled a thermos and a sandwich from his bag in the passenger seat and settled down to eat. In the distance, an owl called in the darkness. He lay his head back and was instantly asleep.
They sat comfortably on the sofa. As Devan massaged Alex’s feet, Alex began to nod off again. Devan eased Alex’s legs off her lap and stood. “Come on. You’re going to bed. You need some rest.”
Devan pulled Alex to her feet and into the bedroom where she pulled back the covers. Alex slipped in without argument, and Devan tucked her in. “Get some rest.”
Alex squinted up at Devan. “Where’re you going?”
Devan turned at the door. “I have some calls to make.”
“Devan, it’s 0500. Sane people are still sleeping.” She pulled back the covers and slid over. “Come on, hop in.”
Near panic, Devan muttered, “I’ll…I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Alex waited. “You need sleep, too.”
Devan was exhausted and quickly convinced herself that there was no hidden message given or taken by bunking together. She awkwardly slipped between the sheets, quickly turned on her side, away from Alex, and lay frozen in the silence.
A minute passed. “Devan?” Alex whispered.
Devan could feel the warmth of Alex’s breath on her back, and when Alex’s leg pressed against hers, she almost whimpered. “Huh?”
“I think we’d sleep better if the light was off.”
Devan released the breath she’d been holding. “Sure. Sorry.” She pulled herself up onto an elbow and clicked off the lamp. Devan thought of the adage that when one sense is dampened, the others were heightened. She could feel Alex, even though there was no contact. She could smell her scent on the pillow and hear the soft swoosh of her breathing. God, how she’d missed that. She closed her eyes and knew sleep would be elusive.
Alex rolled toward Devan and whispered in the darkness, “Thank you for finding me.”
Devan tried not to move. “You’re welcome.”
Devan lay in the dark listening to the soft sound of Alex’s breathing when she curled into Devan’s back and draped a lazy arm around her waist. It felt good; it felt right. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relish in the scent and feel she’d missed so much and fell into a rare comfortable sleep.
Jacob woke to the commanding call of a rooster somewhere in the distance. The cool, damp air had left a layer of condensation on the windows. He used the back of his hand to wipe away a clear spot and poured a cup of coffee from his thermos. It was cold but gave him the caffeine rush he needed.
He pulled his aching frame from the car and stepped into the woods to relieve himself. He had at least another six hours of driving if the weather held. He checked his watch and estimated he would reach Makhachkala around noon.
He folded himself back into the compact car, pulled out onto the road, and sped toward Makhachkala, his escape back home.
Devan woke to the warmth of Alex’s body snug against her back. She gently lifted Alex’s arm, so she could slide out of bed, but Alex’s arm tightened around her waist.
“Mmm, don’t go.” It was a sleepy moaning whisper.
“I’m going to make coffee.” She rolled onto her back and prayed Alex would let her go.
Alex propped herself up on an elbow. “Thank you for last night.” She looked down at Devan, her tousled hair, and sleepy face.
“You’re welcome.” A smile crept from the side of her mouth. “That’s what friends do.” She tried to lighten the mood and poked a finger at a sleep crease in Alex’s right cheek. “You cracked.”
Alex ignored the tease and reached to stroke Devan’s cheek. “We’re a bit more than friends, Dev.” She dipped her head and brushed her lips against Devan’s. It was slow, tender, and filled with desire. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Devan felt the pounding in her chest. It would be so easy to push everything else away and go with the moment. It took all her resolve to stop. “Alex, you’ve been through a lot. You’ve lost a co-worker, a friend.”
When Alex shifted and stretched her body the length of Devan’s, she lost all resolve. “Alex.” It was a whispered plea.
Alex traced a finger from Devan’s jaw to the small dent in her chin, then replaced her finger with her lips. “I’ve missed you.” Her lips moved up to Devan’s cheek, up to her brow, back to her cheek. “I want you.” Her lips closed around Devan’s earlobe. “I need you.”
Devan’s breath caught in her throat when Alex gently nipped her earlobe. The constraint, the determination that made her an exceptional soldier melted like wax from a burning candle. This was a battle she’d lost before it was even declared. It was a fire that had burned deep, had never been completely quenched. Now as it rekindled, burned hot and reawakened, she knew the war between them was over.
With little effort, Devan rolled Alex onto her back. When their lips met, it was passionate, it was two long years of painful absence swept away with one simple gesture.
Their hands fought, desperately struggled to rid each other of the clothes separating them until they lay in a heap beside the bed. When they were fi
nally naked, when their bodies converged, the ravaging fire tempered to a long slow excruciating burn.
Devan savored the curve of Alex’s neck, down to the hills and valleys of soft flesh, farther along the plains of firm taut muscles. Alex writhed under Devan’s touch as she re-explored Alex’s body―a body she knew as well as her own. It was new, yet familiar as each kiss, touch, breath aroused a buried memory. A touch here elicited a sigh, a gentle bite there provoked a moan.
Alex’s hand reached out, pressed down with a silent plea when Devan released a warm breath against her thigh, but Devan wouldn’t concede. She teased, tormented, and held back and waited until she felt the frenetic need in Alex’s hands, heard it in aching pleas between gasps for air. “Devan… Please… Please.” Then and only then did she give Alex what she desired and took what she so desperately craved.
Mara sat across from Payton in a café just outside the gates of Fort Meade. Worry creased their faces.
“If Jacob would get his ass to Makhachkala, then Alex would be out of the country while my team tries to determine if the death of my analyst was connected to the project they were working on.”
Mara swirled the spoon in her coffee. “I know you can’t release any information about the analyst or the project, but if I can do anything, just let me know.”
Payton blew out a breath. “I can tell you it’s a domestic investigation and a sticky one.” Her gaze flicked around the room. “There has been so much outcry from the community over the NSA gathering personal data. Especially after the Edward Snowden debacle in 2013, but what people don’t understand is we may go through thousands―hundreds of thousands―of Facebook, Twitter, and other social media posts before we discover a single thread of information that uncovers a substantial threat.”
“I’m glad I don’t have your job.” She tossed out a question. “So, how do you go about finding out if her death is connected?”
“We dig and dig deep.” Payton took a sip of her tea. “When we’re done, I’ll know everything there is to know about her. I’ll know what she wore on her first day of school, where she vacationed, who she dated, her friends, friends of her friends.”
Her eyes grew cold. “I’ll know her sexual preferences, her shopping, eating, sleeping habits. I’ll know how much money she has in the bank and where every single penny came from. I’ll know every dirty little secret she ever tried to hide. There’ll be nothing left unknown when we’re done.”
Mara could only stare in disbelief as Payton ticked off the details of the plethora of information the ICC was capable of digging up on a single person. “Jesus, I hope you never come after me.”
Payton chuckled. “I doubt you’ll ever give me reason to.” She slipped a teasing look at Mara. “But be warned, I can be relentless when I’m crossed, and especially so if someone I care about is crossed.”
“Duly noted.” Mara chuckled.
“So, what do you think about our two protégés?” Payton transitioned to an equally concerning subject.
Mara sipped her coffee. “Over the last few weeks, they’ve seemed to level out.” She smiled. “The obstacle course challenge seemed to be the catalyst. The final step to a truce of sorts. I’ve actually seen them laughing.”
A brow lifted as Payton considered the information. “Do you think they’ll get back together?”
“On one hand, I hope so. Neither of them has been very happy since the breakup. Of course, you see Alex more now than I do. On the other hand, it could threaten the upcoming mission.” She contemplated her words. “If they do, let’s hope it’s after they get back home. Alex will go back to her job at the ICC. There’ll be no dubious entanglements with work. What they do then on their own time is their business.”
“Agreed.” Payton glanced at her watch. “Gosh, I lost track of time. I need to get back to the office.” She reached over and squeezed Mara’s hand. “Thanks for having coffee with me. It’s been a while.”
“We need to slow down and do it more often,” Mara concurred.
Alex traced the parallel scars on Devan’s back. “They’re beautiful.”
Devan huffed out a protest. “They’re ugly.”
She leaned down and kissed the ribbed flesh. “They made you who you are―strong, resilient.” She traced the words inked between the five raised ridges. “When did you get the tattoo added?”
“Scars Are Not Signs
Of Pain, Grief, Or Strife.
They Are Symbols Of Victory Through Our Battles In Life”
Devan closed her eyes and focused on the featherlike touch of Alex’s finger across her back. “Last year.”
“It’s beautiful, so true.” Her finger moved upward to draw a circle around a new scar. It was round and still held the red angry color of a recent wound. “When did this happen?”
Devan rolled over and slid on top of Alex. “Last year in Somalia, got shot.” She kissed Alex’s lips, her chin, moved to her neck.
Alex found it hard to concentrate, but she wanted to know. It pained her that Devan had been injured, shot for God’s sake, and no one had bothered to tell her. “I can see that much.” She sucked in a breath when Devan continued kissing her way downward. “What…oh, God…what happened?”
Devan stopped, raised her head to see Alex’s eyes clenched shut, her hands balled into fists as she clutched the sheets. “Shut up, Sheridan, I’m busy.”
Chapter Six
The call came three days later, and after weeks of waiting, everything suddenly shifted into overdrive. Devan and team were somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean in the belly of a C-17 cargo plane. The team consisted of Devan, Alex, and Lena, as well as four handpicked top-notch, kick-ass soldiers. The same crew, all but one, that had been beside Devan in Charikar two years prior. She trusted them with her life and had done so on many occasions. The odds of mission success increased because each of them was onboard.
Under Devan’s watchful gaze, they all appeared rested and relaxed and made the best of the turbulent ride. She studied each member of her team as he or she played cards, listened to music, or slept.
Devan had no doubt that Lena could be trusted to lead the team if she was ever taken out or injured. At twenty-seven years old, she stood five feet six inches and weighed a hundred thirty pounds. Her skin glowed the color of creamy caramel, and her eyes, the color of rich toffee, had on many occasions stopped men and women in their tracks. Lena was a strong leader and never allowed personal feelings to interfere with the work. She could command the respect of men twice her size with a mere look. However, if that didn’t work, her mastery of the Israeli fighting style of Krav Maga would quickly bring about compliance.
Lena knew how to push Devan’s buttons when needed, and she remembered their conversation at the Double Tap a few days earlier. Devan still felt a flash of regret knowing that her team felt she had deserted them after their mission to Charikar. Lena had been right, she’d only thought of herself, her pain, and yes, she’d run away. Devan silently promised to talk to each one of them after this mission was over. She couldn’t justify what she’d done, but maybe she could explain why she did it, and if she was lucky, they would forgive her.
She watched Lena’s head bob up and down to the music she was listening to on her iPod. Devan smiled and remembered their second conversation at the Double Tap the same evening.
Lena had goaded her into an episode of hot jealously by claiming to be interested in Alex. Lena had no romantic interest in Alex, but she knew Devan well enough to know that if she professed it, Devan would automatically defend her stake―even if it was a former stake. She wondered what Lena would have to say if she knew what she and Alex had been doing for the last three days.
She looked over to see Communications Sergeant Hank Ward drooling on his shirt. He was a tall lanky man of twenty-six years. He stood six feet two inches tall, weighed in at a hundred seventy pounds, and was in a perpetual state of joy. She’d never heard the man speak negatively about anything or anyone. On one of the mor
e harrowing missions in Afghanistan, they’d been pinned down with no foreseeable escape as bullets ricocheted all around, and all Hank could say was, “Hey, it could be worse. We could be pinned down in a swamp full of gators.” He slept like a baby as he swung in a makeshift hammock built from a cargo net.
Her gaze rested on Medical Sergeant Jimmy Alligood. He was the epitome of calm, cool, and collected. He’d followed in his father’s footsteps and became a doctor. He could’ve tucked himself into a cushy position in his father’s New York medical practice. Instead, and to his father’s utter dismay, he’d joined the Army and spent the last three years on Devan’s team. He wore a frame of what Devan considered average, but he was far from average. He was the silver lining in a dark cloud and had saved soldiers who other more experienced doctors would have given up on. He’d saved her life twice. She had a still tender scar on her back from a bullet that took her down in Somalia, the same scar Alex had asked about three days earlier. No, Alligood was far from average.
Devan heard a whoop followed by howling laughter. Alligood had just hit four aces and raked in the pot of roasted peanuts and pretzels. Demolitions Engineer Sergeant Randell Washington just shook his head and counted his remaining nuts. Washington reminded Devan of Ferdinand the bull. At six feet three inches and two hundred five pounds, he came in fifteen pounds shy of the active-duty weight limit for males. His hands were the size of dinner plates, and when fisted, made her think of Thor’s hammer. He could ram his way through a door with no more than a bump of his shoulder.
He was a freight train, but everyone had an Achilles heel, and his nemesis, the only thing that could bring him whimpering to his knees, was spiders. Itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny spiders. Devan still remembered the goose egg she acquired on the back of her head when he came screaming out of his equipment cage after seeing a wolf spider. He ran right over her, laid her flat out on the concrete floor, and knocked her out cold. After that, some brave soul on the team had nicknamed him Daisy.
