by Diane Saxon
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Can you remove the assistant from the scene?”
A moment later the man, armed with an automatic pistol, was revealed. “See. He would have shot her, possibly the four boys, and then me. I wasn’t taking any risks, Dominic. I took out the bad guy.”
Before he could ask, she huffed out a breath. “I can spot a bad guy the moment he’s in view. If this was real life, I may have given him a moment longer, but it’s not. It’s a game, and I’m playing along just like you want me to.” She sat up straight and pushed the visor on the helmet to the top of her head so she could eye the professor, his brooding gaze observing her over the top of his glasses. “If you want a better response, give me something a little more challenging. More realistic, because quite frankly, Dominic, your scenarios are so predictably shit. You’re working with superior equipment and loading it with juvenile games.” A little thrill shot through her at the sexy twitch of his dark eyebrows, but other than that, he remained completely still. “If you want a realistic response, then give me realistic circumstances.”
After a brief hesitation, he gave a curt nod, tapped a few keys on his remote keyboard, and glanced back up, pushing his glasses higher up his nose, which made her want to climb off her chair and into his lap. The man had sex-appeal oozing from him, and his lack of awareness of it made him even more tempting.
His mouth quirked up in a rueful twitch. “Sit back, pull your visor down. You want reality, you’ve got it.”
»»•««
Soft summer rain fell on her upturned face while the cooling breeze relieved her overheated body. She sighed with pleasure. It was a rare moment she got to herself, when she neither had to fly the Black Hawk or be on standby.
“Hey, Barbie.” A hard boot slammed into her foot, chasing away the enjoyment of the day. “Move your little ass, honey. Looks like you’re good to go.” She could just put a bullet through his head now and have done with it, but it would be the end of the exercise, and Dominic would be pissed off again.
Her back creaked as she rolled with a slow and purposeful motion to her feet. She glanced around. Her heart gave a nasty little hitch as she recognized her crew in the Special Tactics Squadron from three years before. They all looked exactly the same as the last time she’d seen them. Except Flynn. His face was perfect and unmarred; no man should ever be so beautiful.
With a sinking dread, she knew the scenario ahead of her, understood what was expected of her. If Dominic couldn’t get her to speak about her past, he was going to get her to reenact it. She could hardly complain. She’d asked for a better challenge.
She glanced at Wilson. His black-eyed gaze skittered away from hers, just like it had on the day three years before. And just like that day, the hairs on the back of her neck sent little warning messages to her brain. Then, she’d had no idea why, but she’d allowed her instinct to rule. This time she was fully aware of what was about to happen. She couldn’t change the past, couldn’t save lives, all she could do was go through the agony of watching her friends and comrades get slaughtered again.
The ambush was fast and vicious, three dead in one volley of shots, Flynn knocked unconscious with a hefty swipe of the barrel of a gun to his face. Wilson grabbed her arm and hauled her behind him, away from the carnage. They slipped and stumbled over the rough terrain, gaining momentum as they raced down the barren hillside. Even for her, fit and healthy though she was, her heartbeat escalated, tried to keep pace with her feet. The heavy grunts of the overweight Wilson reached her ears, but neither of them paused in the onward rush.
The scene played out. She knew for certain had she been a man, she would already be dead, but the sly look in Wilson’s eye gave her the best clue she needed as he drew her to a halt.
His narrowed gaze flickered over her shoulder, and she guessed at the approach of three others from the noise they made on the slippery rocks. His avid interest returned to her, but as he reached for her, a loud report cracked the air. His black eyes opened wide, filled with confusion as the bullet from her gun found his rotten heart. He made a grab for his chest as his knees gave way and he crumpled in a heap at her feet. It wasn’t quite the events that had happened. In reality it had been far messier, shock and panic had made her fumble, and he’d already had his hands on her before she’d shot him, but she didn’t need to allow that now. It wasn’t necessary for her to relive every minute detail. Dominic would never know.
Slow to turn, she faced her would-be captors with a brazen smile and an unbuttoned shirt. “Hey, fellas, how’s it going?”
With puzzled looks, they turned to each other. The distinctive Dari language rushed from the mouths of all three at the same time as they waved their hands around, gesticulating with their weapons. Without a single moment’s hesitation, she took advantage of their confusion, raised her semi-automatic, and blasted them all to hell.
In the deathly silence, she raked her gaze over the bodies strewn around her, centered herself with a few deep breaths, all the time listening for activity, pushing past the acid burn in her stomach. The distant sound of an engine being fired up and voices raised in maniacal celebration made her hesitate. Certain her unit was all dead, Barbara knew she needed to check. For validity. For verification. For her own sanity.
She plucked Wilson’s semi-automatic from his limp hands and struggled to get his weapons belt from around him, overweight son of a bitch. One hard yank and his body flopped back onto the ground with a meaty slap. She turned and walked away without a backward glance. She could have taken his water bottle, but the thought of putting her lips where his had been filled her with a burning nausea.
Inside the circle of tents, the bodies of three good men lay. Two of them married with children. A hard knot of anger grew at the situation, the memory, the enforced reenactment. As gentle as she could, she took the identity tags from the necks of each of them. Roberts, Kincaid, Summers. There was nothing she could do for them but pinpoint their location and request a team to recover their bodies.
Flynn was gone. The enemy had him.
She glanced at her Black Hawk, tempted to take it for a flight for the sheer hell of it, but it wouldn’t be accurate. It had still been out of commission. They’d have heard her approach in any case, and then she could have blasted them all into infinity, including Flynn. No, she needed to keep it realistic. As realistic as possible without almost killing herself this time.
Stupid fuckers, unlike in reality where they’d burned out the remaining trucks and she’d had to follow on foot, taking over a full day to reach them, this time the keys were in the ignition, the journey a short one. She could take that diversion from the truth and park up a few hundred yards away. Her approach would still be silent, on foot.
She sneaked up on the small white stone building, swiped a hand through her short, sweat drenched hair, and squinted through the heat haze. Reluctant to enter, she paused for a long moment. In the back of her mind was the knowledge it wasn’t real, it was a storyline concocted by the dream machine, but in her heart she knew the coming events would be as close to reality as Flynn’s memories had divulged to the professor.
Like a slaughtered pig, Flynn swung in wide circles, suspended upside down from the ceiling. His blood spatter coated the walls, lay in pools under him, while his three assailants paddled in it, cackling like hyenas.
Barbara stepped back from the open window to move casually to the doorway. Flynn was dead, he had to be. Crowing with hysterical stupidity, their backs to the door, unaware of her presence, the three idiots slashed at the bindings around Flynn’s ankles. His pained grunt let her know he was still alive—just. Despite the heat, an icy wash froze her heart.
“Hi, guys, let me blow your fucking stupid brains out.”
Surprise widened their eyes just before they hit the ground, one after the other, a bullet clean through each of their chests. Flynn’s drawn out groan managed to worm its way through her cool, calm exterior to wrench at he
r hardened heart and tear at her deadened soul. With a quick shove, she booted one of the bodies off Flynn’s and stared in horror at his ravaged face, no longer a memory but the reality revisited. Pulse rate spiraling out of control, she knew she had to get out of there before she gave in to the impulse to cradle him in her arms and comfort him for the devastation living would cost him.
Out of control, her heart rate ratcheted up. No amount of slow breathing could contain the horror, the slick slide of fear that trembled through her body, or the thin coating of sweat over her skin as the sickly sweet smell of blood permeated the air.
It needed to stop. Dominic needed to stop it. Stop the sight, the smell, the scene.
Panic skittered through her veins. No longer able to keep a handle on the situation, Barbara flung herself upright, wrenched the helmet from her head, and launched herself off the leather chair. Uncaring of the wires still attached, she staggered straight into the arms of the Irish devil who’d tortured her with her own memories, too vivid, too real.
“Ssshhh, stop, Barbara, stop. I have you.” She remembered he’d said it once before. “You’re safe now, I have you.”
She didn’t care. She just had to escape from the pain in her chest, the fear in her heart, the terrible guilt racing through her brain. It was the blood, thick, oozing blood. The smell so overwhelming she could still taste it in the back of her throat. But it was the cruelty, the insensibility that drove her crazy. Death was one thing, but mindless torture of the innocent a whole different matter. And Flynn had been innocent. It wasn’t his fault he’d been blessed with the face of a god.
Loud, gulping sobs wrenched at her lungs. She expected the cool professor to tell her to take steady breaths, to calm down, but instead Dominic pulled her into a hard, welcoming hug and wrapped his arms tightly around her so she could barely breathe, let alone cry.
“I’m sorry.” He pressed his mouth against the top of her head. “I should never have put you through that. I’m sorry, Barbara.”
Weak with relief, she tucked her face into his neck. She allowed him to shuffle her onto his lap as he lowered them both onto the leather chair. She clung to him like a monkey, afraid he would let her go and she would continue to fall into the deep abyss she’d been clinging to the side of for all too long. Empty and alone.
Aware of the death grip she had on him, she tried to relax her fingers so her nails no longer dug deep into his flesh. But he didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t mind. He simply wrapped one arm around her even tighter, crushing her against his hard chest as he rocked her body with a comforting motion and he stroked her sweaty hair, all the time plucking the electrodes from her skin and whispering soothing nonsense.
The pulse pounding in the base of her throat slowed, and she tried a deep pull of air through her nostrils only to be assailed by the fresh tang of his light aftershave. Light-headed, she nuzzled her nose in under his ear and drew in another breath, letting his scent roll over her senses to replace the sickening odor of blood.
With light, comforting motions, Dominic rubbed her back. The hand cradling her head gave a gentle massage to calm her. His strong fingers caressed in soothing strokes.
No longer alone, she let go of the fear and relaxed in his arms. Awareness returned, and she realized she’d pulled her knees tight to her chest, close and defensive. Not quite the monkey she’d imagined, she’d curled up like a ball in his lap, allowing him to surround her with his protectiveness.
It wasn’t in her nature to easily accept protection. She’d stood alone for too long, but somehow it felt good and right to be held by the cool professor. It didn’t feel contrived, but natural.
As he rubbed her back with calming circular motions, she curled her fingers into his lush dark hair at the base of his neck, surprised at the cool silkiness of it. She relaxed her legs, wrapped them around his hips, and hitched herself a little higher up his chest. His square jawline flexed as she touched her lips to the underside of it, pecked a row of kisses up to his ear, and then sucked his lobe into her mouth. His soft groan encouraged her to smooth her tongue over the delicate morsel she held with care between her teeth. She could eat him. Right there and then, she wanted him more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life.
Desperate, she nipped his ear. “Dominic.”
“Barbara.” The deep, husky timbre of his voice sounded as desperate as hers.
She slipped her arms around his neck and dove into a frantic kiss, bruising her own lips against his teeth in an attempt to crawl inside his skin. She had to get closer, needed to be closer. She shot her hands up the inside of his cardigan and wrenched at the tucked in shirt until her fingers came into contact with his warm, life-affirming skin. She dug her nails into his muscles in an attempt to bring him closer, but it wasn’t enough, it was never going to be enough. Their tongues tangled in a desperate dance emulating what she needed. She needed him inside her. In a headlong rush, she slipped her hands around the waistband of his pants and wriggled to give them space as she fumbled. Popping open the button, she snatched at his zipper.
“Fuck me,” she breathed into his mouth, “Fuck me now.”
“No.”
She felt his withdrawal, sensed the battle within him, and tried to bring him back. “Just a quick fuck, Dominic, that’s all I want.” It wasn’t all she wanted from him. She wanted everything. She let go of his pants and raised her hands to cup his face and make him listen. “It won’t mean anything, just a relief of tension.” It would mean everything. She curled her fingers into his hair, grasped his bottom lip in her teeth, and slipped her tongue along it.
“No, Barbara.” Every muscle in his body tensed with rejection as he wrenched her away from his chest. Her pounding heart hiccupped and stumbled as he staggered to his feet and brought her to hers with a rough shove. “I said no.”
Humiliation burned a hole in her stomach to leave a queasy, churning nausea.
“I thought…”
“You thought wrong.” He took a pace back, his dark brows pulled low over his glittering eyes. “This…” He flicked his hand in a dismissive wave as though she was little more than a piece of shit to be flicked off his shoe. The disgusted twist of his lips stopped anything she was about to say. “This should never have happened. We crossed the line. You’re my patient. I was just trying to comfort you.”
Pride kicked in. She brought her chin up and met his contempt. She strapped down the fear, the passion, and the anger, even though it raged inside, demanding to be set free.
“I beg your pardon. I misread the situation. Sir.”
With a curt nod, she made her escape, keeping her body stiff so he couldn’t read the shame.
Once the adrenaline seeped from her body, it left her weak and feeble, barely able to reach her room before she sank onto the bed to lie, swamped in tears for the fool she’d made of herself, the misinterpretation of Dominic’s feelings.
It may have been an instinctive reaction, but it would never have happened if she hadn’t been attracted to him and thought that attraction was reciprocated.
»»•««
There was no answer to his gentle tap on her door, but he pushed it open regardless and stepped inside.
Flat on her back on the bed, she rolled her head on her crooked arm to eye him as he wandered in.
“Hey.”
In the absence of a reply, he stepped over to her bed and perched on the edge next to her knees. He hoped to hell she didn’t kick his ass off. Worse still, if she cried, it was going to kill him.
“Barbara.” He placed his hand on her knee and resisted the temptation to whip it back off again at the hard tension in her muscles, but there was something he needed to say. “It’s not you who misread the situation, it was me.”
At her blank stare, he shuffled closer, bumping her legs over with his ass so he wasn’t perched right on the edge. If she wanted to beat some sense into him, he’d let her. He’d welcome it. He was inclined to do it to himself.
He leane
d his elbows on his knees and twined his fingers together. There was no doubt about it, he’d led her on. He blew out a gusty sigh. Unused to the role of apologizer, it sat heavy on him that he’d caused such hurt.
“It’s my fault, I should have realized. I took advantage of your moment of weakness.”
She shot upright, her knee giving him a sharp rap in the kidneys, enough to take his breath away. “I’m not weak.”
One part of him wanted to laugh at the woman whose defensiveness was immediate, but he knew he had to smooth things over, put it right between them. “That’s not what I said. Everyone has moments of weakness. It’s natural when you face death to need affirmation of life, and I made you face death again. I’m sorry.” He gave her leg a light squeeze.
She flopped back down again to stare up at the ceiling. “I lied.”
Confused, he searched the recesses of his mind for her meaning. “You lied?”
“When I said it would mean nothing, I lied.” She flicked him a glance and then returned her gaze to the ceiling, her pale skin flushed a pretty pink. “Even for reaffirmation of life, I wouldn’t just have sex with anyone. It’s not in my nature.” He guessed as much from their conversations. She drew in a shaky breath. “Ever since I arrived, I’ve been attracted to you.”
He quashed the fast flutter of excitement. “Stop.” He slipped his hand from her leg to rest it on his own. He should run. He should hide. His attraction to her had caused him to waver since the moment he took her case because there was something inside of Barbara that called to him, pulled at him like no other woman. It wasn’t just her beauty, although she had enough to satisfy any male with her spiky blonde hair and her big blue eyes, not to mention her utterly kissable soft lips and curvaceous figure. No wonder she didn’t like to be called Barbie. The little hard ass in the guise of a sex goddess. Hardly surprising men died at her hands. She’d almost killed him. Not with a bullet but with a tight squeeze on his heart.
