“So, what did you need to tell me?” Joey cups my cheek, my stubble rasping against her thumb as she traces the line of my jaw.
“I dated now and then, Joey. Three or four women over the years. But none of them…we’d fool around. They’d get off. Sometimes they’d give me a hand job in the shower. But…something always stopped me from taking it any further.”
“Wait. You…haven’t had sex in twenty years?” Shock infuses her tone, and she scrambles back against the pillows, pulling the blanket to her chest again. “Ford, my God. You’re…you’re like…um…super hot. Women should have been throwing themselves at you. And you should have been catching them.”
“I didn’t want them.” With a shrug, I meet her gaze. “I only ever wanted you.”
Joey
When Ford kisses me, all of my worries melt away. Even here, on the run, in a tiny apartment in a country where we could be killed in some neighborhoods just for having an American accent, nothing can touch me in his arms. Rolling on top of him, I press my hips to his, feeling the hard bulge of his erection against my thigh.
Fear ripples through me. Memories of all the times I was forced—either on my knees or taken from behind—and I whimper, but as I draw in a breath, I scent him. The man I love. The man who saved me and asked me a dozen times the previous night if I was comfortable. If I was ready.
“What are your triggers?” His fingers comb through my hair, and he holds my gaze. “What shouldn’t I do?”
“Just…face me. I can’t…go down on you. Not…yet.” Maybe not ever. “Just…go slow.”
Reaching into the duffel bag next to the bed, Ford pulls out a strip of condoms and drops them on the pillow. “Slow it is.”
He snags the waistband of his briefs and slides them down his hips, freeing his erection, and I stare at the wide, smooth shaft, the dark skin of his crown, and the bead of precum leaking from the tip.
I used to love sex with him. He filled me in a way that left me feeling…like nothing else could ever touch me, and I need that sensation again. My fingers tremble as I reach for him, and when I wrap them around his girth, he shudders. “Oh God, Joey. I won’t last long.”
Grabbing the foil packet, I try, unsuccessfully, to tear it open and roll the condom over his length. Ford stills my frantic efforts with his hands on mine, and when he meets my gaze, he offers me a tight smile. “Relax, buttercup. Take a deep breath. Focus on my voice. You’re so beautiful. So strong. I love you.”
The timbre of his words does with no anti-anxiety drug ever could—calms me and centers me—and once he’s sheathed, he asks, “Do you want to be on top?”
“N-no. I want you to make love to me.”
Straddling me, he nudges my entrance with his tip, and I lock my eyes onto his. I’m prepared for pain, for panic, but all I feel is…a delicious fullness as he slides home an inch at a time. So full. So…completely his.
“Tell me if this is too much,” he whispers against my lips. “Too fast, too hard, too…anything.”
And in that moment, I know…there’s nothing he could possibly do that I couldn’t come back from. My scars are my own. Made by bad men so many years ago, it feels like another lifetime. And while I’ll always remember, always be broken, with Ford, I’m who I’m supposed to be.
“Too perfect,” I say as I wrap my arms around his neck. “I want to feel you come, Ford. Please. Make me…yours again.”
Ford
As I lace up my boots, Joey plops down next to me on the bed and gives me a hard stare. “You had an entire strip of condoms in your bag. You were that confident you’d find me? And that I’d be willing—”
“No,” I say, forceful enough it almost sounds like a growl. “Shit. I’m sorry, baby.” Lowering my voice almost to whisper, I wait until Joey’s eyes no longer look like saucers. “I was certain I’d find you. Because I wasn’t going to leave until I did. But these…they’re part of our standard go-bags.”
“You regularly have sex on your protective details? Some of you?”
I chuckle, running my hand through my hair. “No, but better safe than sorry. Trev’s bedded a few women over the years. Pretty sure Clive has too. Even Ella took a suspect to bed when she was a cop. Though, I think that was the case that ended her career. She rarely talks about it.”
The look she gives me is skeptical at best, but then she bumps her shoulder into mine. “Well, no more condoms in your go bag, Marine. You’re mine now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I stand and salute her, and she laughs. Not the tight, stressed out laugh I heard once or twice yesterday, but the laugh I remember. And when I meet her gaze, the light in her eyes is enough to make me take a step back in awe. “There you are, buttercup,” I whisper as I take her into my arms. “I knew I’d find you.”
Trevor grunts, “About damn time,” when we emerge from the bedroom a few minutes after eight. “Nomar’s on his way. Got a message from him twenty minutes ago. Nothing but clock time—oh-eight-thirty—and “need medical.”
At my side, Joey tenses. “Can we get more supplies? The first aid kit’s been pretty decimated. Between my foot and Trevor’s ankle…”
“Not without one of us leaving. And every time we leave this building, we risk being seen by the wrong people.” I rest my hand on her lower back and wait until she peers up at me. “Let’s hang tight until Nomar gets here. If you can’t treat him with what we have on hand, I’ll go out.”
Fear turns her eyes a paler blue, and she hugs herself tightly. “Don’t leave me,” she whispers. “Please. Not here.”
As Trevor shuts the door to the second bedroom, I frame her face with my hands. “Joey, I’m never going to leave you again. But if Nomar’s hurt, I can’t just let him suffer. Not after he risked so much for me—for both of us. And I worry about you on the streets. Trev hasn’t said anything, but we don’t know if Faruk is looking for you. Or if he is…where. I trust Trevor with my life. You can too.” Reluctantly, she nods, and I guide her into the kitchen. “Want to try eggs in a basket again?”
We’ve just finished breakfast when the radio crackles to life next to me. “Open the damn door..”
“Authentication code: Nine-Seven-Alpha-Oscar,” I say.
“Foxtrot-Charlie,” Nomar confirms.
Joey stares at me like I’ve grown a second head as I head for the door. “What was that all about?”
“If he’d responded Golf-Foxtrot-Yankee, it would have meant he was compromised. Foxtrot-Charlie means no one’s following him or coercing him.” Disabling the tripwire for a second time, I flip the deadbolt, detach the chain, and let him in.
“Oh, my God,” Joey cries as she rushes past me. “Mateen.”
In his arms, Nomar holds Faruk’s son. The boy’s mother clings to the NSA operative, and all three of them look like they’re about to pass out. Joey touches Mateen’s forehead, peers into his eyes, and then leans down to…sniff him? “Lisette? Why didn’t you tell me he was diabetic?”
“He’s not,” Lisette protests, fear in her green eyes. “But last night, he started to complain that everything hurt.”
Joey curses under her breath. “He’s in ketoacidosis. His liver is malfunctioning. Mateen? Do you remember me?”
“Dr. Joey,” he slurs. “Mama said…” His eyes flutter closed, and he falls silent.
“Get him onto the couch.” Joey points behind her, and Nomar shuffles over with a grunt and lays the boy down.
“Trev!” I shout. “Get the fuck out here. Now.”
Joey kneels next to Mateen, but as she rests her fingers on his carotid artery, her head whips towards Nomar. “Ford…? Nomar’s hurt. Check on him—basic field triage.”
I take two steps towards them when Nomar staggers back, hits the small table off the kitchen, and falls onto his ass. His entire left side is covered with blood, and he’s breathing heavily.
“He was shot,” Lisette says quietly. “By Zaman as we were fleeing the compound. But he would not let me do anything to help him. We
had to keep moving. I used my headscarf to tie around him.”
Trevor bursts into the room, bleary-eyed and exhausted, but as soon as he sees Nomar on the floor and Mateen on the couch, he looks to me. “What the hell is this? We’re not running an escape train here. Our mission was Joey, Ivy, and Mia.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter as I lift Nomar’s shirt and then untie the makeshift pressure bandage. “Joey, it’s bad.” Blood oozes from the wound, and while I don’t think he’s about to bleed out, there’s so much already soaked into his shirt and the headscarf that the bullet has to still be inside him.
“Nomar,” I say as I slap his cheek lightly. His eyes are mostly closed, and his breathing labored. “Stay with me, man. You’re gonna be okay.” I hope to God I’m right.
Joey tells Lisette to get Mateen a glass of water and make him drink it, then turns around to check on Nomar. She palpates around the wound and hisses out a breath. “It’s infected. Trevor, I need the first aid kit. Any supplies you have. And that bottle of vodka. Nomar? I’m Joey. Tell us what happened, okay? You need to keep talking.”
“I…had to,” Nomar manages. “I saw them as I…was trying to escape, and Faruk was wailing on her.” He shudders when Joey presses hard just above the bullet hole.
First aid kit in hand, Trevor drops down next to her, and Joey digs out a pair of tweezers. She unbuckles Nomar’s belt, folds it in half, and offers it to him. “This is going to hurt, Nomar. A lot. Bite down.”
He nods, and as Joey pours vodka over the wound, the leather trapped between his teeth muffles his scream.
“Good. Just one more thing, and then you can rest.” After she spills some of the vodka on a pair of tweezers, she meets my gaze. “Hold his shoulders, Ford. He needs to be very, very still.”
I press down on his shoulders and Trev grabs his legs. As Joey digs into the wound, Nomar’s entire body stiffens, his back arches, and he groans weakly until he passes out.
“Got it,” Joey says a moment later as she holds up a bullet. “We need to get both of them to a hospital. Mateen needs insulin and chelation. Nomar…I’m not a surgeon. Even if I were, this isn’t the place to do it. But now that the bullet’s out, as long as we can keep his fever down and stop the infection from getting worse, he’ll make it.”
Lisette holds her son, trying to get him to sip from the glass of water. “Nomar,” she says quietly, “saved my life. He picked up Mateen, and told me to come with him if I wanted to live.”
“Seriously? He pulled a Terminator on you?” Offering the frightened woman an apologetic look when her dark brows draw together, I hold out my hand. “Sorry. It’s…a movie thing. I’m Ford. Joey’s…um…” Fuck.
“Fiancé,” she says as she presses a gauze pad to Nomar’s side.
The word settles me in a way I never expected, and for a single minute, I’m the happiest man in the world. But then Nomar moans, and Joey meets my gaze. “We have to go, Ford. Now. Or we might lose both of them.”
17
Joey
Less than ten minutes later, we pile into the Jeep. Trevor’s behind the wheel, Lisette holds Mateen in the passenger seat, and Ford and I are in the back with Nomar sandwiched between us. His breathing’s labored, and infection’s already set in, so he’s burning up. At least I got the bullet out, but the way I did it? I worry I made things worse.
Even though I know I’m not to blame, that Faruk was the one who chose to kidnap me, who chose not to give his son the bone marrow transplant he desperately needed, I still feel responsible.
Ford keeps pressure on Nomar’s wound, and Lisette rocks her son gently. The headscarf I had to put on feels like it’s choking me, and I can’t breathe.
“Joey, buttercup, look at me.” Ford’s command draws me out of my panic, and I meet his gaze over Nomar’s head. The wounded soldier’s no more than five-foot-eight. “Remember what we discussed. If anyone stops us, you’re—”
“Esin. I’m your wife, and this is your cousin. I know.” Trevor handed out cover stories—apparently what he’d been working on all night long—though we don’t have one for Lisette or Mateen, and if we’re stopped, I don’t think cover stories are going to matter much for any of us.
“Amir Abdul Faruk is one of the most powerful tribal leaders in this region,” Trevor says from behind the wheel. “We can’t use the border crossings. Especially with Nomar and Mateen.”
“So, we’re trapped in Afghanistan?” I ask.
“Hell, no. We just can’t use a border crossing. We’re going to find a way across the river. But we can’t do that until it gets dark. For now, there’s a small rural medical clinic twenty minutes east. It’s, in part, run by NATO, and they’ll look the other way when we show up. Joey, can you stabilize Nomar and Mateen for twelve to fifteen hours? I should be able to work some magic with the border patrols and get us across around 3:00 a.m.”
“Maybe?” Against me, Nomar shudders, and more blood seeps from between Ford’s fingers. “But if we don’t get there soon…” I don’t want to say the words. Nomar’s too close to death. And right now, I need him to fight.
Trevor meets my gaze in the rearview mirror and nods. “Got it. Once we get out of the city, I can floor it. Until then…we have to try to stay under the radar.”
By the time we reach the clinic, Nomar’s pulse is thready and weak, and his breathing shallow. If he lasts another hour, it’ll be a miracle. I can’t pull myself out of my own head. Every time I inhale, the scent of blood mixed with the sickly sweet odor that marks Mateen’s kidneys shutting down remind me of my time in that disgusting train car.
Ford keeps trying to talk to me, but I give him one-word answers at best. Clutching Nomar’s hand, I squeeze as hard as I can. “Stay with me,” I murmur. His eyelids flutter, but he doesn’t otherwise respond.
“Don’t get out of the car,” Trevor orders as he throws the Jeep into park and heads for the small, squat building with rough-hewn sand-colored walls and a door that looks to have been kicked in more than once.
He disappears inside, and Ford pulls his gun from the holster, hops out of the Jeep, and puts his back to the door. Mateen says something to Lisette in Pashto, and she coos quietly to him. “It will be okay, my son. Dr. Joey will help you.”
“Mama, are we going back to Papa soon?” Mateen sounds so desperate, and Lisette shakes her head.
“Shhh. We will speak of that later,” she whispers. “For now, we must be quiet and not say Papa’s name. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mama.” He turns his face into Lisette’s shoulder and sighs.
How can a man who claims to love his family do so much to hurt them? Shifting slightly, I check Nomar’s pulse again. Lisette turns in her seat to meet my gaze. “Will he live?”
“I don’t know.” He’s beyond hearing me now. But saying the words still brings a lump to my throat and my eyes start to burn. So much death, and I just wanted to help people.
“He risked his life for me and my son. If he needs blood, I am type O. I will donate to him.”
I offer her a grateful smile, and as Trevor comes jogging out of the clinic, a small spark of hope flares to life. Maybe…we won’t be too late.
Ford
This room gets smaller the longer we stay here. Joey’s sitting on the floor, her back against the wall between two cots, Mateen on one, and Nomar on the other. She managed to get both of them stabilized, but it was touch and go. During the transfusion, she lost Nomar’s heartbeat for a full minute, and I kept up chest compressions until she found it again.
She fell asleep an hour ago, but she’s restless. Her lips twist into a frown, and behind her lids, her eyes move rapidly. I’m on watch since Trevor never ended up getting any shuteye. The rural doctor who runs this clinic agreed to hide us—once we handed over two thousand dollars, and we have at least another three hours before it’s safe enough for us to head to the river crossing.
Dax called in a favor—more than one—and arranged for a medical transport ch
opper to pick us up in Termez and fly us to Qarshi. Once we’re there, I’ll be able to breathe again. Maybe. Now that we’ve taken his wife, and more importantly, his son, Faruk is sure to come after us. Trev called Matt as soon as we arrived, and once we get to Qarshi, we’ll be protected. False IDs for Mateen and Lisette, a JSOC safehouse for Trev, me, and Joey, and secure transport back to the States. Hell, he even found Lisette’s family and got in touch with her sister.
“Nnnnoooo,” Joey whimpers, “no, no, no…” Tears stream down her cheeks, and before I can get to her, she lets out a wail, waking Trevor and Lisette, both sleeping in chairs in the corners of the room.
“Joey!” I catch her as she’s about to fall over, and her entire body goes stiff in my arms. Wild, terrified eyes scan the room. Trev’s on his feet, his Glock in his hand. Lisette immediately goes to Mateen’s side, but then returns to her chair as she realizes what’s going on.
Straining against me, Joey whimpers again, and I tighten my embrace. “It’s me, buttercup. You’re safe.”
“Ford? Oh, shit.” Her cheeks turn bright red, though the yellowing bruises hide much of her blush. Searching out Trevor, she bites her lip for a moment. “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”
He grunts what might be an “okay” and drops back into the chair.
I settle Joey against me, tucking her head under my chin. “Trev and I are going to have some serious words when we get back to the States,” I whisper in her ear.
“You can’t blame him.” With a sniffle, she turns slightly so she can rest her head against my shoulder. “They’re always…so real.”
“Your nightmares?” When she nods, I continue. “Tell me?”
“Ford—”
Stroking my hand up and down her back, I press a kiss to her temple. “No secrets, remember, buttercup? I can handle it.”
By Lethal Force Page 15
