Personal Assistance (Entangled Ignite)

by Louise Rose-Innes

  He followed immediately behind her, landing as effortlessly as before.

  “Let’s get under cover,” he yelled, as the soldiers approached the ledge and took aim. They dashed behind another concrete structure and heard one of the soldiers curse.

  “They’re going to have to come across,” he whispered. The first soldier jumped, barely making the gap. Tom spun out from their hiding place and with a powerful karate kick caused the man to lose his balance and tumble three stories to his death. His colleague skidded to a halt and reached for his weapon, but before he had time to fire, Tom shot him in the head.

  “It was self-defense,” she muttered to herself, struggling to reconcile what she’d just seen.

  “Them or us,” he agreed, matter-of-factly. “Let’s push on. We don’t know how many others will follow these two. If we can get into the rebel-controlled suburbs, we’ll be okay.”

  She nodded, staying close to his side. She hadn’t a clue which suburbs were controlled by the rebels. They skirted the roof, which was long and flat. They appeared to be on top of an apartment block. There was no fire escape, which would have made life easier; however, at the far end, there was an open window.

  They ran up to it. “We can get in here,” he said, forcing it open as wide as it could go.

  She peered inside. This was someone’s apartment. “What if they…?” she began, but Tom had already hopped over the windowsill and was scouting about inside. Sighing, she followed suit.

  They were in a bedroom—and a messy one, at that. The bed was unmade, and clothing was strewn all over the floor. Gingerly, they picked their way over the clutter toward the door.

  So far, so good.

  Loud music emanated from the living room, so presumably there was someone home. She held her breath, praying that someone wouldn’t suddenly make an appearance.

  A dank, musty passageway led from the bedroom toward the front door. Treading lightly, they inched past the entrance to the living room. The door was slightly ajar, offering a partial view of the television, but nothing else. Hopefully that meant the occupier couldn’t see them, either.

  Then they heard a clunk, like someone had put down a mug on a tabletop. Tom held up a hand. She froze, waiting for a creak or a groan—anything to indicate the person was getting up. Nothing happened. The person hadn’t moved. She exhaled. After a few more seconds, just to be sure, he motioned for them to continue.

  On the right was a small kitchen, even messier than the bedroom. She turned up her nose at the smell as they passed by. He slid open the old-style bolt that served to lock the front door. It grated slightly but not enough to attract attention. He opened the door and stood back to let her slip out. Then he followed, closing the door soundlessly behind him.

  Chapter Eight

  Tom had committed the address of Jamal’s contact to memory and managed to locate it without much trouble.

  There was a sense of urgency on the streets, with people going about their business quickly and silently, not stopping to chat or socialize. No one wanted to spend too much time out in the open. Shops were boarded up, and local residents had nailed anything they could find over their windows to protect them when the shelling began. This was a town on the brink of war. It felt as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the government forces to attack.

  Their location was a narrow double-story building in much the same state of disrepair as the majority of other residences in town.

  “Come in, quick,” said Jamal, as he opened the door, slightly more than a crack, so they could pass through. His eyes darted up and down the road, then, seemingly satisfied that all was well, he shut the door again. “I’m glad you made it.”

  “Same here. Don’t worry. We haven’t been followed.” Tom had made sure of that. Not that any government soldier would follow them this deep into rebel-held territory. It would be a suicide mission.

  Jamal nodded. He led them into the sparse lounge.

  “Thanks for your help back there,” Tom said, then noticed the bandage tied around Jamal’s upper arm. It was seeping blood. “Did they get you?”

  “It’s just a graze.” Jamal waved it off. “The important thing is we made it. The plan worked.” He lowered his voice. “Now we can join Abu-al-Rashid and his army and prepare for the imminent attack.”

  “I wish you luck,” said Tom. “We’ll be gone first thing tomorrow morning. I want to get her to the coast by nightfall.” He nodded in Hannah’s direction. “We don’t have much time left.”

  “You’ll need transport,” said Jamal. “It’s too far to walk on foot. She won’t make it.” He pulled out a map and placed it on the scratched coffee table.

  “How far is it?” Hannah approached the table, her eyes roving over the map.

  “At least another ten miles,” Tom told her, tracing the quickest route to the coast with his finger.

  Weariness registered on her face. Although still beautiful, dark circles framed her eyes, and her shoulders drooped when she heard how far they still had to travel. Jamal was right. She wouldn’t make it on foot.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Jamal patted Tom on the shoulder. “In the meantime, wait here, rest, and we’ll talk later.”

  The men shook hands. Jamal nodded at Hannah, who managed a small smile. She looked shattered. Tom ached to take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right, but that would be lying. They were approaching the most dangerous phase of the mission. The deadline was approaching, the army was out looking for them, and they were in the midst of a rebel stronghold. Jamal and his crew wouldn’t be as accommodating if they knew what secrets Hannah held.

  “Do you think we’ll get out of here before the army attack?” she asked him, her eyes wide with anxiety.

  “It’ll be close.” An attack might be just the diversion they needed to get her out of here undetected, but he didn’t voice his thoughts. He didn’t want to panic her. “Jamal seems to think they’ve got a day or two before the attack. I’m not so sure now that the town is surrounded.”

  “Jamal, he’s a rebel leader, isn’t he?”

  Tom nodded. “More of a faction leader. He’s part of the major opposition party to the regime, led by a man called Abu-al-Rashid. There are a few rebel factions, but these are the guys the Western Nations would like to see in power once this civil war comes to an end.”

  “So this Rashid, he’s one of the good guys?”

  He smiled. If only it was that simple. “Better than most,” he said. “Jamal is a good contact to have. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without him.”

  He eyed the sparse living conditions. A grubby mattress lay on the lounge floor with a blanked strewn over it. The only other furniture was the sofa and a broken television set, which had been stashed in the corner.

  “We’re safe for a while, why don’t you have a rest?” She looked like she needed one. He couldn’t have her fading on him tomorrow. They were going to need all the stamina they could muster for the final dash to the coast. “I’ll rustle up something to eat.”

  “Are we safe here, Tom?” she asked, getting to her feet. “These guys are rebel fighters. What do you think they’d do if they knew about the information?”

  Tom, suddenly very serious, said, “You must never mention it. They’ll kill you for those safe house locations. Good guys or not, getting their hands on Hakeem and Anwar Abdul would mean certain victory for the rebels, and who knows what kind of gap it would leave for fanaticism and terrorism to move in.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “No, we must do this the right way. We get the info out, so the Western forces can move in and stabilize the country. That way there won’t be unnecessary bloodshed and chaos. Jamal and his people must work with the international community to restore peace to the country. It’s the only way.”

  His commander’s words echoed in his ears. If we can’t have her, I don’t want anyone else having her, either.

  He pushed that thought firmly out of h
is mind.

  “I’m scared, Tom.” She stood in front of him, in her oversized black dress, tendrils of dark hair spilling out from beneath the scarf over her pale cheeks. She was the picture of fragility. The urge to protect her was stronger than he’d ever felt before, even with Amrain. Not that he’d done a very good job of that.

  Knowing it was a foolish thing to do, he opened his arms to hug her. She moved wordlessly toward him, burying her face in his neck and wrapping her slender arms around his waist. She held on tight, needing the comfort he provided.

  Her heart beat against his chest, her soft hair tickled his neck. Turning his head, he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. She turned her face up to gaze at him. “Please tell me it’s all going to be okay?” she whispered.

  He couldn’t tell her everything was going to be okay, because he didn’t know that it was. This was a war zone. Anything could happen. He was too much of a realist to assume they’d get out of this unscathed. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, and I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.” That much at least was true.

  Her eyes lightened, the pupils dilating. He could feel her breath on his cheek. He made the fatal mistake of glancing down at her lips—so lush and inviting. He wanted to taste them again, desperately.

  Except before he could act, she took matters into her own hands. She lifted her lips to his and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Thank you, Tom,” she said softly. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to know I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  His heart was pounding, his palms sweaty. She had the most amazing effect on him. It would be so easy to lose himself in her kiss right now, take her upstairs…

  Get a grip, soldier. You’re on a mission.

  With superhuman effort, he disentangled himself from her embrace. The disappointment in her eyes made his heart drop and left him feeling as deflated as a released balloon. The knowledge that she wanted it as much as he did was a powerful aphrodisiac. Except he couldn’t do this. It was too dangerous. He needed to keep his wits about him.

  “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his voice not quite even. He hadn’t gotten complete control over his emotions yet. “I…”

  She held up a hand. “Please don’t say it, Tom. I know it’s your job to get me out, but don’t deny you don’t feel something, too, because I know you do.”

  He was silent. He was afraid if he said anything, it would either drive him into her arms, and then whatever this something was between them would escalate into something much more intense. Or it would hurt her feelings and drive a wedge between them. He didn’t particularly want either.

  He settled for honesty. “Nothing can happen between us, Hannah.” He searched her eyes with his own, silently begging her to understand. “I can’t afford to get distracted right now. This town is about to explode, we’re running out of time, and we’re bang slap in the middle of the rebel camp. I need to be able to think clearly.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “And when you look at me like that, I can’t.”

  Her lip quivered. “I don’t understand. What’s so bad about holding each other? We both want to?” He could see she desperately needed to be held, comforted. What he would give to be the one to do that, and a whole lot of other things, too. But he had to stay focused on the mission. He wasn’t good where emotions were concerned, and he didn’t want a repeat performance of Afghanistan. Not only was Hannah too important to the outcome of this war, but on a personal level, he didn’t want to lose her either. With a start, he realized his feelings for her went far beyond what they ought to. He needed to distance himself, before this went any further.

  Feelings. There was no place for them on a mission.

  “I’m sorry, Hannah. I can’t. Not now.” He took a step backward, putting some space between them. “This mission is too important.”

  “Unbelievable.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I don’t understand the value of duty at all. First my father, then Hakeem—although he’s admittedly warped—and now you. What is it with the men in my life?”

  Leaving him to puzzle over that cryptic statement, she stalked out and marched upstairs.

  …

  “Look, I think I owe you an explanation,” Tom said a few moments later, surprising Hannah as he marched straight into the bedroom and sat down on the creaky pine double bed, a look of determination on his face.

  “Um… Okay.” She put down the paper she was reading and turned to face him. His sky-blue eyes roamed uneasily over her face. It was clear he didn’t particularly want to have this conversation.

  She waited patiently. It would help to hear what had happened to him in Afghanistan. Perhaps it would allow her to understand why he pushed her away all the time.

  “I haven’t spoken about this to anyone since it happened,” he began, his skin taking on a pale tinge. She nodded encouragingly.

  He took a deep breath. “I had a contact in Kabul. A woman. Her name was Amrain. She was a nurse at one of the clinics. I met her when I took a member of my team there for treatment. When I realized she had ties to the Taliban, I decided to befriend her.”

  He glanced away, guiltily. Hannah didn’t have to ask what “befriended” meant. “Go on…” she urged.

  He cleared his throat. “I asked her to spy on someone for me. She agreed, and I promised to protect her.” He paused, struggling to find the words.

  “What happened?”

  “They got to her,” he said, bitterly. “Threatened her family if she didn’t betray me. So she led me into a trap. Said she had information on the whereabouts of the men we were after… I believed her and went to her house, with three other SAS soldiers.”

  His eyes were haunted. “We walked straight into an ambush. They were waiting for us, and they opened fire as we walked into the room. Amrain was already dead. Shot in the head, execution style, once she’d made the phone call.”

  She stared at him, her hand over her mouth. There was nothing she could say to comfort him. It was dreadful.

  “I got shot first, in the shoulder. The impact spun me around, and I took another bullet in the back before I collapsed. My team was annihilated. They left us for dead.”

  Anger, bitterness, guilt—all radiated from him in equal measure. She was afraid to speak.

  “So how did you get out?” she whispered.

  “A neighbor who sympathized with the anti-Taliban forces called the police,” he said numbly. “They realized I was still alive and took me to the hospital.”

  “Luckily for you.” Thank God they’d got to him in time. She couldn’t bear to think of Tom, her Tom, who’d saved her life too many times to count, slaughtered like his teammates and Amrain.

  “By rights, I should have died with them that day.”

  She frowned, horrified. “Thank God you didn’t. If you had, you wouldn’t be here to prevent this war from escalating.” She reached for his hand. “And we’d never have met.”

  “I know.” He forced a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “But it was my fault, my stupidity that led to the entire team being gunned down. I should have checked before I blindly led my men to the slaughter.” He shook his head as if to try and erase the memory of that day. “I let my guard down, because I…had feelings for her. I never thought she’d betray me.”

  A silence developed as his words sunk in. So that was why he didn’t want to get involved with her. That’s why he kept saying he couldn’t let his guard down. He didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past. Finally, she understood.

  But it didn’t make it any easier.

  “I’m not Amrain,” she said, finally. “I’m not going to betray you. This is a different situation, a different war.”

  “You still don’t get it,” he said, standing up. “I don’t want to get involved with you. I can’t afford to care.”

  “Why?” she challenged. “In case something happens to me? If I get captured? Or if your frie
nd, for example, were to find out who I am?”

  When he didn’t reply, she continued, “Well, I feel it, too. What if something happens to you? Then what do I do?”

  “See,” he retaliated. “It’s better for both of us if we leave things as they are. Then nobody gets hurt.”

  She got up and walked around to stand in front of him. Her brown gaze connected with his blue one. “If that’s the way you want it,” she said softly. “Then I have no choice but to agree. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” He meant too much to her.

  He looked deep into her eyes. “That’s the way it has to be.”

  Seconds passed while they stood there, staring at each other. Voices filtered up from the street below, a bird tweeted outside the window, but all she could concentrate on was the man standing in front of her, telling her one thing with his words, but quite another with his gaze.

  Then, when she didn’t know if she could stand it anymore, something clicked, and Tom reached forward and grabbed her hand. He pulled her roughly toward him and grasped her face with both his hands. With a passion she hadn’t experienced before, he pressed his lips down on hers and forced them open. His tongue delved into her mouth, consuming her with its heat and desire.

  A need born out of fear and desire welled up inside her. His tongue delved into her mouth, thrusting and exploring with urgent desire. Sensations she couldn’t explain whirled through her body, and she pressed herself harder against him.

  His arms, his magnificent arms, tightened around her waist as he devoured her with his mouth. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

  She opened herself up to his onslaught, desperate to taste more of him, feel more of him. All the pent-up emotions, the fear, and the longing of the last few days went into her response.

  She ran her hands over his arms, doing what she’d longed to do for days, feeling his biceps flex beneath her fingers. It excited her.

  His hand was in her hair, gripping large fistfuls and holding on tightly as he drove his tongue repeatedly into her mouth, sucking and tasting her essence like his life depended on it. Soon they were both gasping for air.