In Dark Water (Rarity Cove Book 3)

by Leslie Tentler

  She could help the cut heal, if he allowed her, but there was little she could do about the wounds that he no doubt still carried inside.

  Corinne had mentioned Noah’s scars. Mercer had glimpsed five or six of them, each less than an inch in diameter and circular in shape. They were far different from Carter’s scars, but their cause had been no less traumatic. She recalled the article that she had read about Noah’s rescue and the torture that he and the other soldiers had endured.

  “I’ll take it for you,” she offered when, having finished his food, Noah wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and started to rise from the couch to carry his plate into the kitchen.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know.”

  Taking his plate along with hers, working in the weak lamplight, she rinsed the dishes in the basin before leaving them there. Mercer went to retrieve the first-aid kit, then sank back down onto the couch beside Noah. She placed the kit next to his gun which lay on the rustic coffee table. He wore borrowed jeans and a white T-shirt, his feet bare. Hers were as well, although he had warned her to keep her shoes always close by.

  “I suppose that’s for me,” he said as she opened the kit.

  “I think it’s a good idea, don’t you?” Rummaging through the box, she extracted the antibiotic ointment and a small box of adhesive bandages. “I mean, after all that time in the swamp, what we both probably need is a tetanus shot, but this will have to do for now. I only wish you would’ve let me do it earlier.”

  “Daylight was burning. Besides, I didn’t see the point until I could get a shower.”

  Mercer leaned closer and carefully dabbed some of the ointment against his injured temple which she assumed had been cut by the car window’s flying glass. “You probably need stitches, Noah.”

  He frowned, but didn’t resist her ministrations. As she worked, Mercer was acutely aware of his maleness and the strength that emanated from him. He smelled clean from his shower, like soap.

  “There.” She placed a small bandage over the cut. His dark, spiky lashes lifted and she found herself caught once again in his amber gaze. But she remembered how things had gone between them that night at the safe house, and she turned her attention to putting the supplies back into the first-aid kit.

  “How’re you feeling?” he asked. “Your collarbone’s pretty bruised and you were favoring your right side earlier.”

  “I’m sore, but the shower and some aspirin that I found in the medicine cabinet helped a little. Considering things, we’re both extremely fortunate. It’s a miracle neither of us was seriously injured in the crash.”

  As she looked up, Mercer realized that Noah’s eyes remained riveted on her face. Outside, the drone of insects and the repeated screech of some bird of prey could be heard, another reminder of just how isolated they were out here.

  “You look so tired, Noah,” she remarked softly, noting the faint lines of fatigue that fanned outward from the corners of his eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to stay up all night and keep watch.”

  He shrugged. “Then I won’t tell you.”

  “Well, I might not be able to handle a gun as well as you, but I’m perfectly capable of staying up and listening for noises. I’m probably too wired to sleep, anyway.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “I want to help,” she persisted. “We can work in three-hour shifts, like Remy and Tom did the first day at the safe house. I’ll stay up for the first three and then you can take over.” When he still appeared resolute about doing it alone, her chin lifted faintly. “You can’t do this by yourself, Noah. I don’t want to be treated like some fragile piece of porcelain out here. I won’t break.”

  “I’m not treating you like—”

  “You trust me, don’t you? Both our lives on the line here.”

  Finally, he released a breath of resignation. “Take the first shift. Three hours. If you think you hear anything, you wake me immediately.”

  Mercer gave a serious nod. “I’ll go make coffee. At least we have a generous supply of that. The tin’s almost full. It’s just too bad that we don’t have any milk to go with it.”

  As she rose from the couch, to her surprise, his fingers caught hers, stopping her. Her stomach fluttered as his brooding gaze held hers.

  “Trust isn’t easy for me,” he rasped. “But I do trust you, Mercer.”

  His nearness gave her comfort. She ached with the need to climb onto his lap and lay her head against his strong shoulder, but she merely stood there. A moment later, Noah’s fingers slipped from hers.

  Aware of the dull beat of her heart, she went into the kitchen.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The stench of sweat and blood surrounded him.

  Noah blinked, the light assaulting him as the blindfold he had worn for what seemed like days was snatched away. Throat like sandpaper, his heart hammering, he squinted at his captors—four this time, all bearded and raw-boned, wearing loose robes. Noah recognized the voice of the one who had beaten him on the first day nearly into unconsciousness.

  “Your country says no deal.” The man spoke to him in broken English, his eyes cold. “Unless they change their minds soon, it will not be good for you.”

  He turned to the others, his language shifting back to Pashto. Noah understood only some of it.

  Show him. Let him see what we will do.

  One of the men holding an AK rifle walked to a tarp in the room’s corner. A video camera was set up there. As the man rolled back the heavy plastic, Noah’s muscles went weak. He had heard Rodriguez’s screams for hours. He now lay dead, naked in a puddle of blood, his flesh mutilated by long, weeping lacerations. Noah’s bleeding wrists worked against the rough rope that bound his hands behind his back and kept him in place in a folding metal chair. Rage choking him, he vowed that if he ever got free, he would rip out every one of these bastards’ lungs.

  “Reeds soaked in water,” the man who spoke English explained, his voice low in Noah’s ear as he loomed over him. “They are like a sharp knife through meat, no?”

  Mercer set aside the book she had taken from one of the cabin’s shelves. For a brief moment, fear hardened her stomach until she realized that the male voice she was hearing wasn’t coming from outside.

  It was Noah.

  Concerned, she picked up the lamp and walked uncertainly down the hall toward the bedroom he had taken. Her stomach tensed as she heard his voice rise and break with emotion. Reaching the room’s doorway, she raised the lamp. She could see him lying on the bed, still dressed in what he’d had on earlier. Although he appeared to be asleep, he moved fretfully on top of the sheets, his dark head thrashing slowly back and forth on the pillow. He mumbled, some of the words unintelligible, some profane, but she clearly heard him say Rodriguez. Dread pooled inside her. Corinne had told her about the nightmares.

  She had to wake him. Entering the room, Mercer sat the lamp on the bureau top before moving to the bed.

  “Noah?” When he didn’t awaken, she sat on the mattress edge. Looking down at him, she touched his shoulder, then gasped in surprise as he shot bolt upright and roughly grabbed her, shoving her back against the headboard and pinning her in place with his knee between her legs, his other hand at her throat. His eyes were wild, his face flushed. Mercer twisted underneath him.

  “Noah!” she choked out.

  It took him a moment to realize what he was doing. He quickly let her go and backed off.

  “God,” he whispered raggedly. “I’m sorry.”

  Chest still heaving, he moved to sit at the bed’s edge. Elbows on his jeans-clad thighs, he dropped his head between his hands. Her heart squeezing, Mercer moved to sit beside him. She rubbed soothing circles on his back, wanting him to know that he wasn’t alone and that he hadn’t frightened her away. His T-shirt was damp with perspiration.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “You were talking in your sleep. You were upset.”

  “How long
I have been out?”

  “About two hours.” Mercer hesitated. “Corinne…told me about your nightmares. She wasn’t sure if you still had them.”

  Straightening, he scrubbed a hand over his features. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Mercer. I’m sorry,” he apologized again.

  “You didn’t hurt me,” she promised. “But you were talking about someone named Rodriguez.”

  The name didn’t seem to come as a surprise. His breathing had begun to even out, and he dragged a hand through his hair before rising from the bed. He seemed restless, like an animal who had been forced into a cage. She could sense that Noah wanted to shut her out but she refused to shrink away. Mercer went to where he was and laid her hand against his chest to stop his pacing. She felt the hard beat of his heart under her palm.

  “Talk to me, Noah.” She implored him with her eyes. “Please let me help you, if I can.”

  He stood so close that she could feel the movement of his breathing. For several moments, they simply stared at one another in the shadows until his hand slowly lifted, his fingers skimming along her collarbone before sliding under her hair and gently cupping the back of her neck. She nearly stopped breathing, her skin tingling where he touched her.

  The desperation she had seen in his eyes was now gone, his gaze shifting into one of male hunger. His hand buried more deeply in her hair and she leaned into him as he lowered his mouth to hers, sending a shudder of desire through her. His kiss burned with a soldering heat and Mercer clung to him, settling her body against his, her arms rising and wrapping around his neck. If this was how she could help him, if he wanted to use her to chase away his nightmares, she was willing. Out here alone, they had only one another. Mercer hoped that this time, he wouldn’t pull away. Already, she could feel his male arousal, the sensation sending a spiraling, erotic thrill through her.

  “Wait,” she murmured. Her fingers trembled as she worked at the necklace’s clasp at the back of her neck. The chain and its rings came away. Placing the jewelry on the nightstand, she briefly closed her eyes in bittersweet remembrance. Then she turned back to Noah.

  His gaze was somber as the lamplight played over his features. “We don’t have protection.”

  “I don’t care.” Mercer’s throat tightened. “I…need this…I need you too much right now. Please don’t tell me no.”

  In that moment, nothing outside the room mattered. The world around them seemed to stop. Noah crushed her to him, his mouth slanting over hers once more. His hands outlined the full circles of her breasts, then moved slowly down the length of her back before clutching the hem of her top. Mercer raised her arms to help him remove the garment, their kiss breaking so that he could pull it off over her head. Dropping it to the floor, his gaze raked boldly over her naked breasts. Mercer sighed as he fondled her, his fingers brushing back and forth over the marble-hard points of her nipples. She reveled in the feel of his big hands on her. His touch filled the aching void that had been a part of her for so long.

  “Yes…” She whispered her encouragement before placing a kiss in the hollow of his throat. “Noah…yes.”

  His hands moved to the waist of her shorts, unbuttoning and unzipping them. Cool air met her heated skin as they joined her top on the floor. Without her panties that were still drying in the bathroom, she stood fully nude and unashamed in front of him. His dark lashes lowered as his eyes traveled over her again.

  “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured.

  Impatient to see him, to feel him, too, Mercer tugged upward at the hem of his T-shirt. Taking her cue, he pulled it off over his head. She had glimpsed his powerful, broad torso earlier in the hallway, but she now stared at it freely—including its curious scars—instead of looking away. The sparse hair on his chest was as ink-black as the hair on his head, and a coarse, vertical line of it ran below his navel before disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. Determined to follow that trail, Mercer began to undo the top button at his waist but he stopped her, walking her backward to the bed and gently easing her down onto it. His gun had been tucked under the other pillow, apparently. Reaching over her for it, he picked it up and placed it on the nightstand beside her rings.

  She lay there watching him, his face unreadable in the shadows as he removed his jeans and boxers. A tremor ran through her at the virile sight of him. Then he climbed onto the bed and braced himself over her. She moaned softly as his head lowered and he covered each of her breasts in turn with his mouth, his tongue caressing her sensitive nipples. Then his hand burned a trail down her abdomen before sliding between her thighs.

  “God, Mercer…”

  He stroked her slick, wet heat. She groaned with the sensual pleasure of it, her legs falling open more widely as his finger dipped into her. Noah watched her face as he moved it slowly in and out of her. Drunk with need, her hands explored the firm planes of his back as his hard body imprisoned hers. When his thumb began to expertly rub at her most sensitive spot, it was more than she could take. Mercer panted and cried out as her walls clenched in a shattering orgasm. She still rode the waves of it as his demanding lips took hers again. Heart beating wildly from her hard climax, she ran her fingers over the rough stubble on his jaw, over the strong cords at the back of his neck, before threading them through his thick hair. She clung to him like that until Noah trapped her hands above her head on the pillow, taking control again, his kiss deeper and more drugging this time. Mercer undulated underneath him, begging to be filled.

  Burying his face against her throat, he breathed a hot kiss there before sheathing himself inside her in a single, hard stroke. Mercer cried out with the shock of it as her body stretched to accommodate him.

  “Mercer, look at me.” His command was a low whisper. Noah cupped the side of her face with a near reverence, his gaze holding hers until she stilled. Then he began to move inside her in deep, unhurried thrusts.

  She lost herself in the dreamy haze of their lovemaking.

  Lying against the pillows with Mercer’s head on his chest, Noah watched the shadows dance on the wall in the flickering lamplight. Sated, their bodies wound together, her toes rubbed lazily up and down his shin as he traced a finger along the feminine curve of her hip.

  It wasn’t like him to be irresponsible. Still, he didn’t regret what had happened between them. The taste of her, her sweet scent, the sounds she made when they had been in the deepest throes of sex—all of it was imprinted on his mind and heart.

  He was aware of her fingers brushing lightly over the small, cylinder-like pockmarks on his chest. There were six in all.

  “What caused these?” she inquired carefully.

  Pensively, Noah curled strands of her long, silky hair around his index finger. If Corinne had told Mercer about the nightmares, he figured that she had mentioned the scars, as well, although his sister must have left out the grim details. As Mercer looked up at him, it was concern, not pity or morbid curiosity that he saw in her eyes. She wasn’t the first woman who had asked about his scars after their being intimate. She would, however, be the first one of them in whom he had ever confided.

  “I told you that the Taliban was good at improvisation.” Even now the memory cut at him. “They were caused by a metal rod. They hooked it to a car battery and basically turned it into a cattle prod.”

  Her eyes filled with horror. “God. Were they trying to kill you?”

  “More like they were just killing time. Torture was something they did to entertain themselves while they waited to see if our government would meet their demands.” Noah’s heartbeat grew sluggish as he thought of what had been done to him and the others. “They made us stand in water up to our ankles with our wrists chained to a steel bar overhead. The water intensified the shock. They took bets on which of us would be the last to pass out.”

  Much of the torture had been captured on video for sending to the United States. Noah knew that in a classified server somewhere there was footage of him.

&nbs
p; Mercer slowly shook her head. “Was Rodriguez one of the men with you?”

  “He was one of us who didn’t make it back.”

  Noah wondered how long his nightmare might have gone on if Mercer hadn’t awakened him. It had been especially vivid and, at times in it, Alonzo Rodriguez’s body as it lay on the floor in front of him had morphed into Tyson’s. What had happened at the diner had no doubt been a trigger, had thrown him back to that dark time.

  “My brother Carter still has scars from the attack on him,” Mercer mentioned quietly. She placed a soft kiss on Noah’s shoulder. “I…saw the scars on your back, too.”

  They had faded with time, but the lash marks there were still somewhat visible. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

  “I need for you to know that if anything comes out of what happened between us, I want to be there for you,” Noah said.

  Looking up at him, she bit her lip. “You mean if I’m pregnant?”

  “It’s a possibility, Mercer. I’d stand by your decision, whatever it is. But if there was a child, I’d want to be there for him or her. I’d want to be the father I didn’t have. Not that someone with the St. Clair family’s resources needs someone like me—”

  She sat up and turned to him. “If a baby resulted from what we did, Noah, I wouldn’t expect anything from you that you didn’t want to give. But I’d definitely be keeping it. The truth is…I’ve wanted a child for a while now.” Tucking her honey-blond hair behind her ear, she hesitated before speaking again. “The treatments Jonathan had with his first bout of cancer made him sterile.”

  She didn’t look at Noah. Instead, her fingers worried at the sheets that were tucked around the globes of her breasts. “He was in remission for two years before the cancer returned. The surgery and second round of treatments made him...”