The Stealth Commandos Trilogy

by Suzanne Forster

  He began to move, watching himself surge in and out of her body, and Honor began to climax.

  “Hold me!” she cried.

  He drove deeply, gathering her into his arms as waves of ecstasy washed over her. She clung to him, flew with him, pinwheeled through showers of feeling that left her breathless and stunned.

  “Mine,” he breathed with his last shuddering thrust into her woman’s soul.

  Ten

  JOHNNY WAS ABSENTLY aware of the birds chattering in the trees above them as he contemplated the beautiful, thoroughly ravished woman in his arms. “Can you handle a personal question?” he asked.

  She laughed softly. “Anything but my weight or my age.”

  “How about your virginity?”

  The smile vanished from her lips, and Johnny propped himself up on an elbow, studying her startled expression. “Honor, what we just did? You have done it before, haven’t you?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  He was surprised at how defensive she seemed. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her. “You seemed . . . tight, that’s all.”

  She flushed and ducked her head, glancing up at him with the uncertain charm of that shy teenage girl he remembered. “Is that bad?” she asked. “To be ti—”

  “No, it’s not bad at all,” he said, laughing. “It’s wonderful, but I noticed some resistance, and I thought . . . I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  “You didn’t,” she said. “And I haven’t.”

  “You haven’t? Never?”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t,” she said. “I just couldn’t. Not with anyone else.”

  He stared at her for a beat, trying to assimilate what she’d said. She’d never been with anyone else? Could that be true? Her expression was so open and guileless, he knew it must be. He gathered her up in his arms, his heart surging, his eyes squeezed shut. God, but this woman knew how to destroy him. He wanted to ask why she’d never been involved, but he could guess the answer. It had to be the same reason that all his sexual encounters had been virtually meaningless.

  He drew back to look at her, astonished at the things he wanted to say to her and shaken by the force of his feelings. He felt as if something had given way inside him, as if some emotional safehold had broken open. He was filled with such beautiful, shattering needs. They scared the hell out of him, those needs.

  “Johnny? Are you all right?”

  He nodded slowly. “I should be asking you that.”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him.

  “Are you sure? Didn’t you get . . .” —he searched for a word—“frustrated?”

  “Well, yes,” she admitted. “But I think now that it must have been some kind of self-imposed punishment. Like my hair. I never wore it down after you left. I wrapped it up in that tight little coil, and maybe I wrapped my other needs up with it.”

  Combing his hands into her tresses, Johnny brought the silky blondness forward and let it spill around her face. Her softness flowed all over his hands, as tender and surprising as the feelings flowing inside him. What had happened to the rage? he wondered. The need to inflict pain? He could hardly believe that all those years of cold hatred had been wiped out in one white-hot burst of passion. Was he really free of the demons? Clean?

  He shook off the doubts, recapturing the magic of her golden hair, lacing his fingers through the fine strands. All he seemed to want now was to be gentle with her. And to be buried deep inside her again. God, yes, he wanted that.

  “The lady’s first time,” he said huskily. “If I were a gentleman, I wouldn’t even suggest what’s on my evil mind.”

  “Thank goodness you’re not a gentleman.”

  He laughed and caressed her face with the silk entwined in his fingers. “I was thinking about how amazing it was. I was thinking about doing it to you again.”

  “Umm . . . yes,” she breathed, her voice throaty. She reached up and began stroking her fingertips over his lips, thrilling him. “Do it to me again.”

  Johnny felt himself hardening like the granite peaks around them, though it seemed impossible he could get aroused again so quickly. He wanted to take it slower this time, to concentrate on her pleasure, but her fingers had a way of setting fire to whatever they touched. Their feathery lightness could ignite the most insatiable hunger.

  “Godistso,” he said, his voice going rough as he cupped her breast. “Love magic. You’ve put a spell on me, haven’t you?”

  He bent and took her mouth first, slowly, an animal growl in his throat. Leaving her lips wet and wanton, he moved to the breasts he’d claimed and began to suckle, pulling irresistibly on her tingling flesh. “I’m obsessed with a beautiful white witch,” he said, glancing up at her with his hungry panther eyes. “Enslaved.”

  Honor dragged in a breath as his tongue flicked her nipple and brought it to quick, quivering tautness. “You?” she rasped, arching against his mouth. Each tug of his lips brought a sweet coiling tension to the pit of her stomach. She felt herself growing unbearably taut, as if the heavy satin ruffle she’d once imagined was being squeezed tighter and tighter. “I’m the one who’s enslaved! What have you done to me?”

  She caressed the darkness between his thighs, and he groaned out his need. He was hardened and quivering, ready for anything. She opened herself to him eagerly as he moved above her. Some terrible craving had taken over her will. He was big and thick and hot, and she needed him urgently. Her body was crying out to be filled, to be driven to the heights of ecstasy.

  His eyes caught the light, flashing like a mercury as he entered her. He opened her up with a slow, deep stroke that made her plead for more. She moaned helplessly, imploring him to take her hard and fast. But he wouldn’t give her the quick release she sought. He held himself in check, flexing inside her so slowly that she was nearly driven mad.

  She raked her fingernails down his arm, opening the tender wound she’d made. “I’m sorry!” she cried, but it was too late.

  “Witch,” he breathed, thrusting into her deeply, shuddering as the rage overtook him. He was a man possessed. He drove into her with passionate force, again and again, bringing her the most incredible rapture imaginable. He shook her to her core, but it wasn’t enough. The rage was in him, demanding satisfaction.

  He rolled her over on her stomach and pulled her up on all fours, thrusting into that tender, aching part of her body, violating her with his beautiful darkness. Honor moaned and cried, paralyzed with pleasure as his thrusts shook through her, thrilling her. Even in her dazed state, she understood what had happened. The panther had taken possession of her. She had unleashed the dark feral animal, and he would either devour her with his passion or drive her to the heights of ecstasy.

  The arrow struck its target with a piercing sound. The wounded hawk unfurled its wings, creating a magnificent cape of white, then transforming before his eyes into a hauntingly beautiful woman. The cape fell away, and her long golden hair flew around her, exposing her nakedness. A look of anguish clouded her exquisite eyes. She was bleeding. The arrow had pierced her heart, and the life force was ebbing from her in a bright crimson ribbon. She was dying. . . .

  Johnny woke up drenched in sweat. Honor was slumped against him, and he pulled her closer, certain that she’d been mortally wounded. She moaned softly and nuzzled into the warmth of his shoulder, sound asleep but very much alive.

  Sighing with relief, he buried a hand in her hair and held her tightly to his chest. The emotions storming through him were chaotic and confused, but the dream had been terrifyingly real. He’d seen every detail with a clarity that had frightened the hell out of him. He’d even seen the color of the woman’s eyes, blue-gray like river mist. Honor’s eyes.

  He pulled her dress around her to protect her from the cold. She slept on undisturbed in his arms, and Johnny envied her tranquility. He had no such peace of mind. As he lay there, holding her in the darkness, sheltered only by the remains of the lean-to, he had the eeriest feeling that he was still caught
in a surreal dreamscape.

  It seemed as if he had never come out of the nightmare, as if everything that had happened on the mountain the last few days was a part of it, including the sex they’d had before falling asleep tonight. Had his grandfather cast some kind of spell over them? Had that crazy old man invoked the powers of godistso?

  He could hardly believe he was considering the possibility, but he didn’t know how else to explain the insanity his life had become. He’d spent half his life trying to forget her and bring his emotions under control. But the instant she reappeared, he’d been twisted inside out. Even now he was so torn with conflicting emotion, he hardly knew how he felt.

  Beyond that he’d broken every promise he’d made to himself. Years ago, he’d sworn he would never return to the reservation. Then, just days ago, he’d sworn that the woman who’d betrayed him would hurt the way he had hurt. All that was inconceivable to him now that he was on the reservation, seeking the ways of his Apache ancestors, and the very woman he’d vowed to get even with was curled up naked in his arms.

  Had the whole world gone crazy?

  He held Honor tight to his chest, his hands tangled in the golden magic of her hair. It would all be so simple if he could blame everything on the bewitching creature in his arms, but he couldn’t do that. He’d made the choice to be with her again, however recklessly.

  All he’d wanted when he returned to this place was to free himself. Instead, he’d added more chains, he realized. Loving her promised to be infinitely more dangerous than hating her. Even the vengeance he thought would cleanse him had turned into something complicated, tainted by guilt and remorse. To hurt her now would make him a monster. He would never be able to live with himself. But to love her?

  When Honor woke up the next morning, Johnny had already dismantled their primitive camp and was ready to make the trip back to the reservation.

  “Hungry?” he asked, settling down next to her with a bark bowl of wild strawberries and artichoke roots.

  “Maybe I’d better get dressed first,” said Honor, aware that she was naked under the blouse and skirt that covered her. Despite their intimacy of the night before, she felt oddly vulnerable with him sitting right next to her. Maybe it was because of their intimacy, she realized, blushing as she remembered what they’d done. His animal passions had awakened and aroused her in ways she wouldn’t have believed possible. She was already throbbing just thinking about it.

  She sneaked a glance at his naked thighs and felt herself going weak all over. Heaven help her, she wanted him again! Now, deep and tender, hot inside her. Her stomach muscles clutched in anticipation of the forbidden pleasure, but she couldn’t let him know how much she had loved what he’d done to her. She couldn’t embarrass herself that way!

  She hurriedly dressed, and the activity calmed her a little, though her panties and bra were nowhere to be found. Then she shared breakfast with him, nibbling at the roots he offered, absently aware that they reminded her of jicama. Her mind wasn’t on food, however.

  “I was hoping we could talk,” she said.

  “I was hoping we wouldn’t,” he told her softly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His eyes glinted darkly, beautifully, simmering with inner turmoil as he looked at her. “It’s too soon. I’m not up to a whole lot of soul-searching this morning. I’m still trying to deal with what happened last night.”

  “Soul-searching?” Honor blurted out the offending word, unable to hide her hurt. “That wasn’t what I had in mind.” She stopped herself with a sigh and looked away from him. Soul-searching was exactly what she had in mind. “You’re right,” she said. “Maybe it is too soon.”

  Silence stretched between them until Johnny finally broke it. “I’m sorry, baby. I really am.” He knew he’d hurt her. He could see it in her proud, unsteady chin. But how did he tell her what was going on when he couldn’t find the words to explain it to himself? He’d been ripped wide open last night. He was too exposed, too raw, for any more contact. He wanted like hell to drag her into his arms and make love to her again. He could lose himself in her, but talking would only stir up all the pain and confusion. Talking was dangerous.

  “Maybe we ought to get going,” she said finally. “It’s a long trip back.”

  Honor’s prediction was too modest. It was a torturous trip back. Neither she nor Johnny spoke except when necessary, but Honor couldn’t stop herself from trying to analyze his every mood, every glance and murmur. She tried to tell herself that she was only imagining the distance seeping back into his eyes, the walls going up. She prayed she was imagining it, but she couldn’t talk herself out of the gnawing fear that he was retreating to somewhere beyond her reach.

  If she had any sense, she’d be the one retreating.

  She wiped the moisture from her neck and forehead as they continued down the mountain, but she couldn’t pry her thoughts away from the man walking next to her. His silence fed into her anxieties. It was more painful than his anger. At least then he was involved with her, passionately involved.

  She knew he could hurt her. He could crush her emotionally simply by his indifference. She was too vulnerable to him now, too needy for any scraps of attention or tenderness he might throw her way. And he had too many reasons to want to crush her. He’d threatened revenge, and the shaman had warned her she would be hurt. Was this what the old man meant?

  By the time the town of Whiteriver came into view, Honor had withdrawn into herself emotionally. She was afraid of Johnny’s moody silences, of his seemingly fated need to wound her. The shaman had told her she would learn something on the mountain, but nothing could have been further from the truth. She was hopelessly mired in confusion. Why had she and Johnny been brought together at all if it was only to cause each other more pain?

  The first person Honor saw as she and Johnny walked into the tribal headquarters in Whiteriver was the blond-haired ruffian. The man who had spied on her at the river was actually standing across the room, talking to Johnny’s grandfather! “You?” she said, halting midstride. “What are you doing here?”

  The ruffian’s gaze swept over her, and he smiled roguishly. “Ask your friend,” he said, indicating Johnny.

  Johnny’s malevolent expression made Honor think the men must be dire enemies. “You said you didn’t know him,” she whispered to Johnny.

  “I wish I didn’t,” Johnny muttered, swinging an arm toward the man. “Honor, meet Geoff Dias, my partner in another life. You may remember calling him to do some investigating for us.”

  “Your partner?” Honor gazed at Geoff in surprise, letting herself get caught for an instant in the man’s rich green eyes and sensual smile. He virtually lit up the room with his potent male energy, and even Honor, with all her other preoccupations, was not immune.

  The awareness left Honor worried as she caught the homicidal glint in Johnny’s eyes. He was measuring his former partner’s jaw for a fist, she realized, and the last thing she wanted was two bad-tempered brutes going at each other in the tribal headquarters. Still, Johnny’s jealousy was flattering, she admitted. It reassured her that he hadn’t been able to turn himself off totally. If she hadn’t been afraid of provoking a fight, she might have rattled his cage a little harder.

  “We have important business at hand,” Chy Starhawk said, interrupting in the nick of time.

  The urgency in his tone drew Honor’s attention to the small crowd of tribal leaders gathered in the room. Their grave expressions startled her into remembering that there was something more at stake here than her own personal concerns. These people were fighting to protect their tribe’s livelihood and a young boy’s freedom.

  Standing beside the shaman was the accused Apache teenager whose bail Honor had helped arrange. Her heart went out to the boy. His long black hair and look of defiance reminded her of another teenager who’d gone up against the system once and lost.

  “Mr. Dias has uncovered some important evidence regarding the Bartholomew Mine
s,” the shaman said, nodding to Geoff.

  The room went still as Geoff described the discrepancies he’d found in the chemical analyses of the seepage from the holding ponds. “Not only were the reports falsified,” he told them as he finished his disclosures, “they were signed off on by a government inspector, which could mean any number of things—bribery, graft, collusion.”

  The crowd broke out in applause.

  “But that’s perfect!” Honor chimed in. “You have everything we need. We can have the operation shut down, at least until they rectify the situation. How did you ever get past my father’s security?”

  Geoff pulled a card from the pocket of his vest. “Anyone need a computer repaired? I work cheap. Once I was able to access their locked electronic files, I hit pay dirt.”

  “Brilliant,” said Honor, laughing along with everyone else. But her smile vanished as Johnny interrupted.

  “There’s a problem,” he said, addressing the tribal leaders. He gave Honor the benefit of his quick, hot glare as he indicated Geoff. “Mr. Dias’s ‘brilliant’ evidence was illegally obtained. Technically he gained access to the computer files by fraudulent means, which makes the evidence virtually worthless in court. And leaves us with damn few options.”

  The crowd began to murmur among themselves.

  “What are those options?” Chy Starhawk asked immediately.

  Johnny’s shrug wasn’t encouraging. “We either find someone within the company to testify that the analyses were falsified, which is an unlikely prospect . . . or we bluff.”

  “Bluff?”

  It was Honor who’d asked the question, but Johnny addressed his answer to the men, pointedly ignoring her. “Hale Bartholomew doesn’t have to know how we got the evidence,” he told them. “We could bluff him into thinking we can win a court fight.”