The Spy Who Saved Christmas

by Dana Marton

  “To save her from a worse fate. But I didn’t touch her, I swear, for a long time. Then a year passed, two. I had information on one of the training camps at last, but I was kept in place, told to keep a low profile. New intelligence came in that the warlord had more important connections than we’d thought. Connections I was supposed to discover.”

  “And things changed with her?”

  “One day her father packed up all his belongings, every goat, rag, dish they had, to pay back the bride price—money he’d already spent—since she didn’t give me any children. His honor was at stake. I could barely talk him out of turning his family into beggars. And they would have been that. He would have taken Leila to the nearest small town and sold her to be a prostitute, along with her younger sisters. He wouldn’t have had any other choice.

  “I negotiated more time. He thought me a fool, even accused me of wanting to humiliate him. And that night, Leila came to me, crying, begging to be allowed into my bed.” He couldn’t, to this day, figure out whether he let her for her sake, or his mission’s, or because he’d been so incredibly lonely. And the fact that he didn’t know made him feel like dirt. Which was why he kept those memories locked away.

  “It’s okay,” Lara whispered.

  “It wasn’t love.” That simply wasn’t a requirement for marriage over there. “But I came to care for her. We’d been sharing the same house. She’d been cooking my meals, repairing my clothes. She was a smart girl. We spent a lot of evenings talking. I was a lonely man, she was a lonely young woman. She was begging me to give her a child, for herself, for her family. I wasn’t sure if I could, but I thought I owed it to her to try.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Things went on like that for a while. Then the warlord noticed that the villagers weren’t as scared of him as before, figured out that it was my influence. His men came to the house while I was away. They killed her as a warning to me. He figured I’d be suitably cowed.”

  “Reid…”

  “When I got home—” He shook his head. “I went after him. The powers that be ordered me back. Called me into the city for debriefing. While I was gone, the warlord heard that I was out for revenge. He realized he’d misjudged me. He was afraid the village would stand behind me, and maybe other villages, too, if the news spread that his influence had weakened. So he struck first, and killed every man, woman and child.” His throat closed up.

  The warlord and his men were rounded up, he’d seen to that, the training camps had been shut down. But none of that made up for those graves on the hillside, an image that haunted him still. And made him question his orders every time since, making him, and probably Colonel Wilson, wonder if he was still suited for the job. He sure as hell didn’t reassure the powers that be with this case.

  He lay on top of the covers next to Lara. He wasn’t touching her, but she had her arms around him, her head on his shoulder. He’d just confessed that over two hundred innocent people had died because of him, including his own wife, and Lara didn’t tell him that he didn’t deserve to be alive, a thought that had crossed his mind more than once after the tragedy.

  Of course, just because she didn’t think that he didn’t deserve her, didn’t mean that wasn’t exactly the case.

  He moved to get off the bed.

  “Stay,” she said again.

  So he stayed on top of the covers beside her. Only that didn’t seem enough, all of a sudden, so he took her into his arms. And, slowly, his thoughts returned from the past to the present. Here he was, dumping his dark past on her when she had to be worried sick about the twins. “Everything is going to be fine now. I promise.”

  Just holding her and not going any further took every ounce of his self-control. She was practically naked, her skin carrying the fresh scent of orange spice soap. But she was worn-out both in body and spirit. He wasn’t going to take advantage of her under any circumstances.

  Not if it killed him. Not even if she wanted him, which he was pretty sure she didn’t.

  He tried to think of all the flack he was going to catch for the last couple of days—a mental bucket of ice water—and held his body still.

  But then she snuggled even closer. “I’m sorry about what happened to Leila and the others. I really am sorry for her, and I’m sorry that you have to carry all that around. But you saved us. You saved me and my babies. You stood in front of the bullets. And I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful that we’re here, alive. I’m grateful that you didn’t die on that hillside in Afghanistan and came to Hopeville.”

  She turned to him fully until her breasts were pressed against his chest, with precious little in the way of a barrier. He felt sweat bead on his forehead.

  “I know you’re tired.” Her breath tickled his neck, shooting one-hundred-proof lust to key points of his body.

  Worse were the powerful emotions swirling in his chest, emotions he hadn’t been prepared for and didn’t know what to do with.

  “But if you’re not, you know, completely, terribly tired…?” She pulled back, a wary look in her eyes as if she expected him to reject her.

  Like that was going to happen, no matter what he’d said to himself before.

  “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” he checked, to be sure. Go slow. Whatever you do, go slow. And don’t get your hopes up.

  Her only answer was a nearly imperceptible nod.

  He gathered her tighter against him, until he had trouble telling where he ended and she began. She gave a shaky smile as he leaned in to brush a kiss across her soft lips.

  And then he lost it completely. So much for better judgment.

  Making love with her seemed like the last thing he should be doing at the moment. But in another way, making love seemed like the only thing they could do. He pulled her even closer.

  “I WANTED YOU from the moment I first laid eyes on you,” he told her in between kissing her senseless.

  Lara’s body floated on pleasure. Zak and Nate were safe. They’d all come through the ordeal of the last couple of days alive. Reid was here, back in her life again, back in the boys’ lives. A rocky road waited for them, but she didn’t want to think about that now. She needed a break tonight. And Reid was doing an excellent job of making all her tension and worry melt away.

  “But the whole truth is,” he continued, “that I wanted you every moment since. I don’t think a day passed that I didn’t think of you. There were nights, in my dreams, when I could still feel your skin and taste your lips. The memory of you drove me crazy.”

  He tugged the towel from around her, his movements growing urgent. He immediately caught himself. “Sorry. I’m too…” He drew a slow breath, gave a shaky laugh. “Here I am, ready to devour you when what you need is slow and easy.”

  She kind of liked the idea that he was as starved for her as she was for him. He wanted to slow down? Couldn’t he tell that she was practically vibrating with frustration? “The last two years were pretty slow,” she gave him a hint.

  A glint came into his eyes as he caught it. “Are you sure?”

  She slipped a hand under his sweatshirt, splaying her fingers against his washboard abdomen. “What do you think?”

  The sweatshirt was gone before she could blink.

  Then her bare breasts were pressed against his naked chest that was wide and gloriously muscled, dusted with the barest hint of coarse hair, which she immediately set to discover with her fingers.

  He groaned deep in his throat when she came in contact with a hard, flat nipple. “You overestimate the amount of self-control I have here.”

  “Good thing I’m not really after self-control tonight.” She hadn’t had another man in her life since she’d been with him. No man after or before that night. She was more than ready.

  As his hands moved all over her body, and their kissing grew more frenzied, heat and moisture pooled at the V of her thighs. Her body was ready for him. And judging from the considerable hardness jutting against her be
lly, he was more than ready for her.

  She parted her legs.

  “What about foreplay?” he murmured as he kissed his way down her neck.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Not to nitpick, but I think foreplay is supposed to come first.”

  “Good to shake things up now and then for variety.” She could barely gasp out the words as his hot lips closed around her nipple.

  He drew hard.

  Every muscle inside her tightened.

  “Our second time and you’re already bringing up variety? A lesser man could develop a complex.” He moved to the other nipple. “I’m just saying.”

  She gave a moan that was louder than she’d intended. “A lesser man couldn’t make me feel like I’m about to explode any second.”

  “Explode, huh?” He moved down her belly. “Variety it is then. Because I’m not about to miss that train.” He grabbed a foil packet from the nightstand without looking, while his mouth moved down, down, down, got in a few licks just to spite her. Her back arched, her breathing coming faster and faster. And then, he thrust into her at last with one smooth, long move, filling her, rocking into her, and she called his name as she fell into a million little pieces.

  He pulled up her knees and hooked her legs over his lean hips. And pushed deeper. Then pulled out and pushed back again and again and again. The pressure inside her barely had time to abate before it began building anew. Her eyes went wide. He moved, shifted, each tiny adjustment giving a new sensation, a new kind of friction, getting her closer and closer.

  Then he stopped.

  “No.” She pushed herself up, claiming him.

  He put a hand on each side of her hips and held her immobile. “You rushed me through foreplay. Fine. But now we’re slowing down a little.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the first time, on a flour-dusted table, I didn’t know you were a virgin and I went too fast. You drove me crazy. I should have taken the time to make your body melt. I should have cherished you. I should have given you everything.”

  “You did make my body melt. You did give me everything. I—”

  He switched to slow, even thrusts that drove all argument from her mind. Fine. Slow was good. It went against instinct, the part of her that demanded release all over again. But other parts of her were really enjoying this. In fact, the pleasure seemed to build deeper the more the tension built.

  Oh.

  He rolled and arranged her on top. “Now you.” His eyes were dark with lust. His face was focused on her, only her, making her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, the only woman in the world.

  The sensation of being on top was new, but pleasant, and then she figured out the advantages of having control, and liked it. And, of course, couldn’t help picking up speed.

  So he had to take control again, rolling her under him, hooking her ankles over his shoulders this time. He was even deeper inside her now. She hadn’t realized pleasure like this could exist.

  “Please.” The time had come. She was ready to beg shamelessly if necessary. She was a quivering mass of arousal and need, inches from disintegrating.

  He pulled back and drove in a little harder. Then a little harder again and was picking up speed at last.

  Then everything exploded, pleasure shooting through her like a rocket. But even that pleasure paled next to the overwhelming emotion that filled her. They were together, again, Reid and she. And this time, he didn’t have any dark secrets to spirit him away from her. This time, they could stay together.

  MAKING LOVE TO LARA had shaken him, opened him up in some way, left him vulnerable—a sensation he didn’t care for.

  “I wish you could hold me like this all night, but I’m guessing you have to leave soon to fill out paperwork and file reports or whatever.” She lifted her gaze to his.

  “Yes.” He wouldn’t lie to her. He should have left already, right after he’d seen the twins to safety at the hospital and her in the hotel. But, for the first time in his life, Reid hadn’t been able to walk away. Except, eventually, he had to. “Sorry.”

  “Your job is what it is,” she said simply, pressing a soft kiss on his injured shoulder.

  The job was him. He was the job. That had always been a solid, steady point he could come back to, something he could rely on. Except, now Zak and Nate were his life, too. And Lara.

  When had that happened?

  This was exactly what he’d so carefully avoided since Leila. This was exactly what had killed her. And all those innocent villagers. He was a weapon in the U.S. government’s arsenal. A weapon his country needed. Weapons didn’t have second thoughts. Weapons didn’t become emotionally involved.

  He wasn’t a normal guy. He wasn’t husband and father material. If he got involved with her, stayed involved, she could get hurt. Zak and Nate could get hurt.

  He couldn’t survive that. He couldn’t do his job day in, day out, knowing they might be in danger because of him. The best thing he could ever do for them would be to leave them. The sooner the better.

  He’d seen what his father’s disappearance had done to his mother. He knew what Leila’s death had done to him. He wasn’t going to do that to anyone. He’d even distanced himself from his mother over the last several years as he’d taken on increasingly dangerous assignments. The temptation for his mother, after losing her husband, was to make her son the center of her life, and she had done that for a while. But he pulled away consciously, and she had made friends and built a whole support system. He wanted her to have a normal life, whatever happened to him.

  And he wanted the same thing for Lara.

  Emotional connections and his job didn’t mix. In his line of work, chances were he would get hurt sooner or later. He wouldn’t want to cause pain to anyone. And he couldn’t afford to be thinking who he might be leaving behind when he was walking into armed conflict.

  He slipped out of the bed and pulled on the sweatpants, then the sweatshirt.

  “Where are you going?” she asked sleepily.

  “I do need to go in for that debriefing.” Colonel Wilson first, then the FBI. He should have done that immediately after the shoot-out. He’d neglected his job already.

  “Do you want me to wait for you so we can go over to the hospital together in the morning?”

  She looked sweet and soft in the dim light, her hair tousled from their lovemaking, her tempting body outlined under the blanket. Every fiber of his being pulled him back to her. “I’m not coming back.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll take the boys straight home. Come by whenever you’re done with your work for the day. I want to hold them for days on end and not let go. Except maybe to have their picture taken at the mall with Santa. We did that last year, too. I want to do that every year and keep the pictures so they can look back someday and see how they changed from year to year.” She smiled sleepily.

  She was beautiful enough for the sight of her to stop his heart.

  He took a step away from the bed. “I’m not coming back,” he said again, hardening his voice this time, trying to harden his heart, too, but that proved more difficult.

  She sat up, wide-eyed, clutching the blanket to her chest. All the sleepiness was gone. “Ever?”

  “I’ll make arrangements. You’ll be taken care of. I’ll send word when I have everything in place.” Then he turned away from her. He didn’t want to see the pain on her face.

  He grabbed his car keys, his wallet, his gun. Another few steps took him out of the room. He closed the door behind him, not stopping until he’d reached the elevator. He leaned his forehead against the door while he waited.

  So maybe he was the stupidest, most heartless bastard in the world. But he’d done what he had to do. He was going to protect and take care of the people who were most important to him, from afar. It was better for them that way.

  As far as he went, he had to trust that eventually he would learn to live with the pain.

  Chapter Twelve

/>   Nearly two days had passed since he’d last seen her. And those two days had pretty much driven him out of his mind.

  He’d spent half a day debriefing the colonel, making sure he minimized Cade’s participation so he wouldn’t get into too much trouble. Colonel Wilson had given Reid a lot of hard and mean looks, dressed him down, cut him to size and then, instead of punishing him, had given him two weeks stateside for recuperation before he would be sent overseas on his next mission.

  His FBI debriefing was worse. It’d been a long time since he’d heard that much yelling. He was kicked off the Jimmy Sparks case, naturally, which he very much regretted since he’d been itching to get his fingers around the man’s neck for the past two years.

  As further punishment, he was ordered to spend the day with his FBI handler, filling in the gaps in his final report for Adams. The office was half-empty. Everyone who didn’t have an important case running took the day off for Christmas Eve.

  “So after I told you to come in and bring Miss Jordan with you, you set up a meeting with Kenny Briggs, a known member of a domestic terrorist cell, without notifying the FBI?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Adams’s face grew bleaker and bleaker as the conversation went on, his eyes heavier and heavier with disapproval.

  Reid shrugged. “You got Kenny and his brother, right?” Cade had dropped them off without any trouble.

  “That’s not the point,” Adams objected. Then huffed out some air. “So, acting on information you received from Briggs, you single-handedly infiltrated a suspected terrorist location?”

  “I had Miss Jordan with me. She’s damn good backup.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Adams shook his head. Since he was Reid’s handler, his behind was on the line, too. “What were you thinking, bringing a civilian into that mess?”

  “That she had a right. Nobody had as much at stake as she did.” And he hadn’t wanted to let her out of his sight. And even if he had, she wouldn’t have stayed behind, short of him handcuffing her to the steering wheel. “She’s a tough woman. She could handle it.”