by Pamela Clare
She hadn’t brought a change of clothes, but the security guy who’d given her the keycard to her room had said there was a laundry room. Maybe she could borrow a T-shirt and jeans from someone until she was able to wash her things.
She wrapped herself in a towel, gathered her dirty clothes in her arms, and stepped out of the bathroom just as someone knocked. She tossed her clothes onto the bed and walked to the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Derek. I brought you some breakfast.”
Jenna glanced at the pile of dirty clothes. She couldn’t stand the idea of wearing them again. She opened the door and stepped back, holding tightly onto the towel.
Derek stood there dressed in a tan T-shirt and desert camo and carrying a tray that held orange juice, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and…
She inhaled. “Oh, my God, is that real coffee?”
His gaze slid over her, as intimate as a caress. “You bet.”
She hadn’t had coffee since she’d left the U.S.
He carried the tray to the desk and set it down. “Did you get some sleep?”
“Yes. Thank you. You?”
“I’m good.” He stepped back. “I’ll let you dress and eat. I’ve scheduled a meeting for zero-eight-thirty.”
“A meeting? Did you learn something new?”
“I went out to the hospital early this morning. I gave them the remaining medical supplies and told Farzad what had happened. The women boxed up your things. Everything is sitting here outside your door.
Boxed up her things? “But why—”
“You can’t go back, Jenna. Farzad doesn’t want you to come back.”
Jenna’s heart sank, the rejection painful. “Why not?”
“That’s what the meeting’s about. I’ll meet you in the conference room then.”
He left her alone.
She sat on her bed, the news like a punch to the gut. She’d set aside two years of her life to help train midwives so that Afghanistan could get on its feet again, but now…
Tears blurred her vision.
She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.
Derek did his best to forget the sight of Jenna wearing only a towel and focus on the meeting. It wasn’t easy, not with her sitting beside him looking good enough to eat. She wore a long-sleeved, dark blue V-neck tee that showed a hint of cleavage and jeans that hugged the curves of her luscious ass, her hair still damp, but uncovered and free. He could almost feel its silky strands on—
Get a damned grip!
He finished telling others what he’d learned this morning. “When Hamzad got back to the hospital, he wanted to know where Ms. Hamilton was. He didn’t ask about me. He asked only about her. When he found out she hadn’t returned, he told everyone that she and I are not brother and sister and that I’m a private military operative. Farzad warned me against either of us returning. He said that Hamzad had turned his men against her. He also said that if Qassim was looking for her, he couldn’t protect her.”
Jenna stared at him, clearly taken aback. “How could Hamzad know that? I swear I didn’t tell anyone. I’ve never even spoken to him.”
“Who in Afghanistan outside of this building knows who we are?”
Jenna’s brow furrowed as she thought through this.
Cross answered for her. “Abdul Jawad Kazi.”
Jenna looked from Cross to Derek. “Why would he send someone after me? He gave me his permission to work here.”
“Kazi giveth, and Kazi taketh away,” McManus said.
“Does this have to do with the night I shouted into the waiting room? Or maybe he’s angry because we pretended to be brother and sister.”
Derek couldn’t be sure. “I think we can assume that Kazi heard about that.”
“It’s no’ like him to give a damn about such matters,” McManus said.
Derek turned to Elizabeth Shields, a linguist and former CIA analyst. “Shields?”
“I have to agree with Quinn. Kazi doesn’t care about moral issues. There’s something bigger going on here. We’ve been trying to monitor his coms, but, as you know, that’s become more difficult.”
War had made Kazi a multi-millionaire. Whatever tech he couldn’t get for free from the U.S. government, he bought from the Saudis or the Chinese.
Derek took another sip of coffee. “What we know for certain is that Qassim was searching for Jenna but made a point of staying out of sight. He didn’t try to take her from the hospital. After the failed attempt this afternoon, he stopped down the road from the hospital where he couldn’t be seen. What do we make of that?”
Levi Segal, a former counter-terrorism agent with Israeli Defense Forces and the head of their Middle East tactical team, spoke up. “He could be working for Kazi, as our sources claim, or he could be working for some unknown player on the side. Or maybe he’s gone rogue. Regardless, the fact that he tried to acquire Ms. Hamilton while she was far from the hospital proves that he’s keeping a low profile.”
“My gut tells me Kazi is behind this,” Shields said. “I don’t think Qassim would risk his life by betraying his boss. You know what would happen to him if Kazi caught him moonlighting.”
Kazi was merciless to those who betrayed him.
Shields’ analysis made sense to Derek. “You think he’s working for Kazi and that Kazi is trying to make sure that no one can tie him to whatever he has planned.”
“I do.”
Cross stood, walked to the coffee pot for a refill. “There is the possibility that Qassim and his men attacked that village, pretending to be IS fighters to lure Ms. Hamilton outside the compound walls.”
Derek shook his head. “How could they know she’d be the one to volunteer? I think it’s more likely that Hamzad took advantage of the situation created by IS fighters and told Qassim where she’d be. He pushed Farzad to agree to the trip and volunteered to go with us.”
“So, Kazi ordered Qassim to abduct Jenna,” McManus said. “I can believe that. But whatever for?”
Motive was the missing piece.
“What could Kazi want from me?” Jenna looked overwhelmed and confused. “This makes no sense.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Derek broke the silence. “Whatever his reasons, the prize has to be big for him to risk crossing swords with Cobra. If they had tried to take Ms. Hamilton from my vehicle, there would have been a firefight. He would have lost men, and I might have been killed or wounded. He must have known that and been ready to accept the consequences.”
Cobra had been working in Afghanistan since the day its doors opened and had an amicable relationship with Kazi. Had that changed?
“Kazi is a snake,” McManus said.
“It seems to me the most important thing is to get Ms. Hamilton out of the country,” Segal said. “We can sort out Cobra’s relationship with Kazi once she’s beyond his reach. Until then, she’s vulnerable, and that means we’re vulnerable as an organization.”
Heads nodded—all except for Jenna’s.
She looked lost, shell-shocked, miserable.
“I want a viable strategy for evacuating Ms. Hamilton by zero-eight-hundred tomorrow.” Derek stood, ending the meeting.
The staff headed back to their desks.
Only Jenna remained. “I’m going back to the U.S., then?”
“I’m sorry, Jenna. I know it’s not what you wanted.” Derek walked over to her, sat on the edge of the conference table. “Before Kazi was named governor, he was a butcher. He killed our enemies, so the U.S. rewarded him and made him powerful. If he’s willing to kill me to get to you, that’s bad news.”
Jenna got to her feet. “Thank you for saving my neck yesterday, but I don’t want you or anyone else dying for my sake.”
Derek stood, too. “None of this is your fault. Even if this is the result of what you did for that girl and her baby, it’s not your fault. You came here with the best of intentions. You’ve saved lives. You’ve done more than most people.”
She didn’t look comforted b
y this. “Does Farzad think I’m evil now?”
Derek shook his head. “He cares about you, Jenna. He said he thought you were a brave woman. He wanted me to tell you goodbye and that they all wished you well.”
Jenna’s chin quivered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I care about him, too.”
Not knowing what to do, Derek drew her into his arms.
Cross stepped in. “Hey, boss, I … Oh. Sorry.”
Jenna drew away. “I’m going back to my room—if I can find the way.”
Derek walked over to Cross, cleared his throat, fighting not to bite the guy’s head off. “She’s upset.”
“I bet.”
“What do you want?”
Jenna found her way back to her room, sank onto her bed, and stared at the ceiling, tears running from the corners of her eyes and down her temples. She thought of Farzad, Marie and Delara, Lailoma and all of the other students. She would probably never see them again.
She’d come to feel at home there, despite the lukewarm showers and lack of coffee and the strangeness of wearing cover and not being able to speak to men. She’d been a part of something bigger than herself, part of an effort to save the lives of women and children and help Afghanistan recover from endless war.
Now, she would be heading back to the U.S. because of some freaking warlord. What did he want from her? What had she done to anger him? What would he do if he got a hold of her?
No one knew.
She wasn’t afraid. Derek wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She was surrounded by tons of concrete, steel, razor wire, and badass operatives. But it would at least be nice to know why this had happened.
What would she do now?
She could get a job almost anywhere. She’d sold her condo before she’d come over, putting the money into savings. She would have to find a job, buy a place, and start over. That’s what she would have done eighteen months from now.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
It wasn’t like her to brood or lie around, so she got up, made her bed, and unpacked her belongings. There, tucked carefully in one of the boxes, was the photo of her childhood self that Derek had given her, and beneath it was a note.
She opened it and recognized Marie’s handwriting.
Dear Jenna,
* * *
We’re all afraid for you and sad that you won’t be coming back to us. The girls are heartbroken. I think you were their favorite teacher. I hope you and I can meet again one day, perhaps in Paris. Of all the midwives I’ve worked with during my almost two years here, you were the best. Your compassion and courage are an example to us all. Be well, and stay safe.
* * *
Marie
The tears started again, but this time they were bittersweet. She had learned so much from Marie and the people of Afghanistan—her students, Farzad, the women who came to the hospital and those she met in the villages. Working here had changed her, made her stronger, more resilient.
Before she’d come to Afghanistan, she’d thought a week with five births was a busy one. Here, she’d sometimes caught five babies in a single day. At home, she would never have gone a day without a shower or skipped wearing makeup. Here, she hadn’t always had time for a shower, and she’d rarely put anything besides moisturizer on her skin. Even so, she’d never felt better about herself as a woman.
She put the precious letter together with the photo into her bag where they would be safe, then finished unpacking. She had no idea how long she would be here, but she might as well make herself at home.
By lunchtime, she had everything squared away. She went in search of the mess hall. She still didn’t know her way around, but she was starting to get it. Each room had a letter and number combination with the letter representing the room’s purpose. So residential rooms had numbers that started with Rs, while the conference room’s designation began with a C.
M-002.
M for mess hall?
She opened the door and stepped through—to find Derek naked in the shower.
Oh. My. God.
She knew she shouldn’t look, but she couldn’t help herself. Water sluiced over smooth skin and scars, his body all muscle from his pecs to an eight-pack to his powerful thighs, his nipples flat and brown. His perfect cock hung, thick and uncut, from a nest of light brown curls, his testicles heavy.
Stop looking at his junk, for God’s sake!
“Do you need something?” He turned off the water, reached for a towel.
Heat rushed to her face—and her belly. “Sorry. I’m lust … lost. I thought the M was for ‘Mess Hall.’”
“Men’s Locker Room.” He rubbed the towel over his chest and arms, making no effort to hide any part of himself from her.
“Got it. Shit. Okay. Sorry.” She took a step backward.
“Jenna, it’s okay.” He was clearly fighting not to laugh. “I don’t embarrass easily. I’m surprised you do, given your job.”
“I work in women’s healthcare, not penises. No, I …” Quit while you’re behind. “I’ll see you later.”
She hurried from the room, his voice following her out the door.
“The mess hall is down in the basement.”
12
Derek dressed and went back to work, both amused at Jenna’s reaction and uncomfortably horny. He couldn’t get her off his mind—not when he had a private conference with Corbray, not when he read Pentagon intel reports on Qassim, not when he went to the shooting range for target practice specifically to get her out of his head.
How could any man forget an attractive woman checking him out with such blatant lust in her eyes? Yeah, she’d taken a good, hard look at him, her gaze fixing on his cock, and the expression on her face had been pure sexual hunger.
The fact that she’d gotten so flustered afterward was interesting, too. He would expect for a woman who worked in reproductive health care not to be fazed by dicks. But her face had flushed bright pink, and she’d said things she hadn’t meant to say.
I’m lust…lost.
Yeah, she was lust all right—for him. He’d never gotten hung up on a woman like this. Sure, he’d been sexually attracted to a lot of women, but he didn’t walk around thinking about them all fucking day.
I work in women’s healthcare, not penises.
He’d almost lost it and started laughing at that point. She could have said men’s healthcare or male reproductive healthcare or almost anything, but his dick had apparently been foremost on her mind. That was okay with him.
Maybe it was time to do something about this. They were adults, and they were hot for each other. Maybe the best thing for both of them would be to get it out of their systems by fucking each other’s brains out.
She’s Jimmy’s little sister. You’re her bodyguard. You’re at a job site.
These were three excellent reasons to keep his dick in his pants. What kind of example would he set if he, one of Cobra’s owners, broke the rules while on the job?
It’s not like he could hide what was going on. He was in a building full of operatives and intel specialists. There were no secrets.
None of this was enough to keep him from shooting Jenna a text message that evening and offering to give her a tour of the place.
I don’t want you getting lost.
No, it hadn’t been necessary to add that last bit, but it had been fun.
Where should I meet you?
I’ll come to you.
He went to her room, knocked.
She opened the door. “Hey.”
For some reason he couldn’t fathom, she had trouble meeting his gaze.
He tried not to grin. “You ready?”
He gave her the same tour he gave U.S. Senators, Pentagon officials, and presidents, sexual tension humming between them like a live wire. Somehow, he managed to stay on topic. “We have close to five hundred staff and operatives spread out over eight major operation centers around the world.”
“Antarctica?”
&nbs
p; He chuckled. “No.”
He showed her the infirmary, the gym, the shooting range, the holding cells, and the weapons locker on the lower level. “This is all mission-critical gear. Our armorer makes sure it’s ready to go at a moment’s notice.”
“Wow.”
“You found the mess hall, I assume.”
“Yes.”
He showed her the barracks next, opening a vacant room so she could take a look.
“It looks like a prison cell.”
“Nothing fancy—just a bed, a sink, and a toilet. Most operatives stay for just a week or so at a time.”
She smiled up at him, finally making eye contact. “My room is much nicer.”
“Wait till you see mine. I am the boss, you know.” He led her to the elevator and up to the barracks. “Corbray and I use this room whenever one of us is here. He stays in D.C. most of the time to be close to Laura, his wife. He heads her protection detail.”
“She was abducted by al-Qaeda, right?”
“Abducted, held prisoner for eighteen brutal months, beaten, raped. They claimed she was dead. Corbray found her during a SEAL raid and brought her home. She barely knew who she was. She still gets the occasional death threat.”
Laura Nilsson was one of the strongest people Derek knew.
“Poor woman! It’s a wonder she didn’t get pregnant.”
Derek swiped his keycard but said nothing. It wasn’t his story to tell.
He opened the door and stepped aside to let Jenna enter, biting back a grin at her surprise. “Home, sweet home.”
“It looks like an office with a bed.”
“That’s pretty much what it is. I’m able to view all the security feeds and the monitors in the operations room, as well as communicate with all of our operations centers from here.”
“So, you’re able to work in your pajamas. That must be nice.”
“I don’t wear pajamas.”
A hot blush stole into her cheeks, and she looked away. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier today.”
