Someone Like Her (A K2 Team Novel)

by Owens, Sandra

  “Ah . . . yes, sir. I’m right behind you, Buchanan . . . Tiger.”

  Dammit, Tennessee knew better than to use their names on a mission. A moment of indecision stilled him. By the time he and Elaine made it back, it would be close to dawn and there would be people on the streets. Less risk to go in now. He’d just keep a close eye on Tennessee.

  “He gonna be okay?” Elaine whispered, sidling up to Jake with his hand over the mouthpiece of his headset.

  Jake shoved his mouthpiece aside. “That’s the question of the day.” He glanced back to see Tennessee push away from the doorway and head their way. “You thinking we should shut this down? Me and you come back later?”

  A cocky grin appeared on Elaine’s face. “Hell, no. We’re here and it’s a good plan. Let’s get this thing over with so we can go home. He’ll be fine.”

  Ignoring his misgivings, Jake nodded as he pulled his mouthpiece back into place. “Show time.”

  They’d brought glass cutters, but the window was unlocked, allowing them to slip inside. Holding up a fisted hand, Jake paused to get his bearings. The room on the main floor held no furniture except for a two-foot-tall table covered with remnants of what Jake assumed was that night’s dinner. Dozens of pillows were scattered around, along with numerous rolled-up prayer rugs. In a far corner was a rustic kitchen with an open fire pit for cooking.

  The stairs leading to the bedrooms were at the back wall. “Careful you don’t trip on anything,” he whispered as he led his team across the room.

  A snort from Elaine sounded in his ear. “This ain’t my first rodeo, Tiger.”

  Jake lifted his hand above his shoulder and gave Stewart the finger. Admittedly, that was a stupid thing to say to men experienced in clandestine operations, but he was on edge, too much so. He’d been on missions far more complicated than this one without a second thought, but this was the first time he had doubts about one of his teammates. He would have been happier if it had been Tennessee making the snarky comment.

  Call it off, a voice whispered in his mind. Shutting down all distracting thoughts, he headed up on silent feet. At the top, he motioned for Tennessee to position himself on the last stair, the safest place for him. “Tennessee, stay here and watch our backs.”

  Bayne nodded and pressed himself into a crouch against the wall. Toe to heel, Jake moved to the first door with Elaine right behind him. Easing it open, he quickly scanned the room to see three beds occupied by bearded men. He stepped back, gently pulling the door closed, then lifted three fingers, letting Stewart know how many Tangos were inside.

  They moved down the hall to the second room, and he breathed a soft sigh of relief that their quarry was the sole occupant. Stupid idiots should’ve posted guards downstairs and at least one with Sinclair. This was going to be a piece of cake after all.

  Elaine took up a position in the doorway as Jake moved to the bed and placed his hand over the kid’s mouth. Chad startled when Jake shook him, his eyes darting frantically around before settling on Jake.

  Jake put his mouth next to Sinclair’s ear. “We’re here to take you home. Don’t talk, okay?” He nodded, and Jake signaled Elaine to keep an eye on the kid while he dressed. Moving to the computer he’d spied upon entering, Jake scooped up all the memory sticks in sight and shoved them into the empty pouch at his waist. Taking a thumb drive from his pocket, he pushed it into a slot in the system’s unit and uploaded a virus, wiping out all the files.

  Time to get the hell out of this place. The kid was dressed and standing still in the middle of the room, and Jake glanced at Elaine, who nodded, giving the all clear. Pointing to his feet while putting a finger across his lips to tell Sinclair to walk quietly, Jake moved behind the boy to follow him out. Elaine gave another nod and stepped into the hallway.

  “Mother fucking bastards!”

  Why the hell was Tennessee screaming? Elaine backed up and Jake pushed Sinclair against his teammate, then slid around the doorway just as gunfire erupted.

  “Tennessee’s down! Get the kid out of here, Elaine.”

  My fault. My fault. My fault. Jake struggled to find his gun but he was tied up. When had that happened? Jerking against his restraints with all his strength, he came free and fought his way up, but his feet were entangled in something and he fell on his face.

  Gasping for air as he lay with his cheek pressed against the nylon floor of his tent, awareness filtered into his brain. Every damn night since he’d returned, the nightmare had come, causing him to relive the operation in minute-by-minute detail. Some nights, the dream stopped at the sound of gunfire, and other times, it continued on to the end, forcing him to stare into Tennessee’s dying eyes as he held his teammate in his arms.

  It didn’t matter. Asleep or awake, he could see the accusation in Bayne’s eyes as the life faded from them. “You should’ve called it off, Tiger,” they said.

  He rolled onto his back and kicked his feet clear of the sheet. Within an hour of returning to his condo after the funeral, the walls had closed in on him and he’d known he couldn’t stay. Unsure where to go, only that wherever he ended up there could be no suffocating walls, he’d thrown a tent and a few supplies into his car and somehow found himself at the state park.

  Through the open flap of his tent, a single ray of the rising sun fell on the unopened bottles of scotch. He’d resisted drinking even though on his aimless drive before ending up at the park, he’d stopped and bought three bottles, choosing scotch because he hated the stuff and figured he’d be less likely to drink them than cases of beer.

  The throbbing in his leg where the bullet went through made itself known and, to hell with it, he reached for one of the bottles. Finding it impossible to drink while flat on his back, he sat up and poured the burning liquor down his throat straight from the bottle.

  “Go away,” he said to Tennessee’s eyes, and drank some more. The edges of his vision blurred and he held up the scotch to see almost half of it was gone. If he could get blind drunk—was there such a thing?—then he wouldn’t be able to see anything, especially dying eyes. He drank some more.

  The last time he’d gotten drunk, Maria had come for him. Would she come this time? Nah. “She wouldn’t want a man who gets people killed,” Tennessee whispered in his ear. That certainly called for another drink. This stuff wasn’t so bad once you got used to it, he thought as he pushed his pillow behind him, stilling at the hard press of cold metal under his palm.

  He lifted his gun and turned the barrel toward himself, staring down into the black hole. All his mistakes in judgment and what he’d lost because of them stared back at him. The loss of a teammate headed the list, Maria a close second. Then there was his self-respect and his job, the respect of the boss and the rest of the team. With no job, he’d lose his condo—and on and on it went.

  Why bother living?

  His finger lightly stroked the trigger as Tennessee’s eyes danced in his blurred vision, delighted with this turn of events. “Jesus,” he swore and threw the gun across the tent. It bounced against the soft wall and landed halfway back to him.

  “Lucky the damn thing didn’t go off.” That he’d even carelessly thrown a loaded weapon scared him. He pulled on a pair of board shorts, then grabbed the Glock. Hurriedly dismantling it before he got stupid again, he walked down to the beach and into the Gulf. Swimming out as far as he dared, he dropped the pieces to the ocean floor in scattered bits. As drunk as he was, he figured it was only because of his SEAL training that he didn’t drown.

  That night, Jake strode along the edge of the water, the moon bright enough to allow him to avoid stepping on the jellyfish stranded and dried up from the day’s hot sun. The sand under his feet was hard packed, and he could walk miles and miles over it—something he’d done every night in an effort to stay ahead of the nightmares chasing him.

  The air was balmy and a nice breeze coole
d his face. It was a perfect night for a lovers’ stroll. Yet, he was alone.

  By choice.

  The temptation to call Maria, to ask her to come to him, had teased him since he’d pitched his tent under the stand of scrub oaks. He’d resisted, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes, possibly even disgust. At the funeral, he’d not dared to look at her, so he didn’t know what was in them. If he could tell her one last thing, it would be how much it meant to him when she’d slid her hand into his at Rick’s service. He wasn’t sure he’d have gotten through it without her beside him. That was Maria, though, just being there as a friend, no more to it than that.

  Ahead of him, a sea turtle lumbered out of the Gulf and made her way across the sand to a place she deemed perfect to lay her eggs. He stopped to witness the marvel of a mother starting new life. By tomorrow night, the Turtle Patrol would have the area taped off with signs warning against molesting the nest.

  For a few magical minutes, he watched her dig a hole and then back her tail up to it. He tried to count each egg and thought she’d laid at least a hundred. Somewhere he’d read only one in a thousand made it to adulthood. If he had any luck in him, he’d wish that all these did.

  But he was the wrong man to be wishing for anything—or to be asking God to answer any prayers of his. He had no right to ask for any favors, especially for the love of a woman he didn’t deserve.

  The mama turtle scooped sand over her nest hole with her back flippers, then plodded her way back into the water, leaving her babies alone to survive—or not. After she was long out of sight, Jake walked to the disturbed sand and dug a crater around the area with the toes of one foot to make it easy for the Turtle Patrol to find the nest.

  Sometimes, life just kept tripping on, whatever one wished, but maybe he’d saved a hundred or so little turtle lives tonight. It was far from making up for the mistakes he’d made, though. Too bad a circle in the sand wouldn’t bring his teammate back.

  He turned and headed back to camp where he planned to test his theory that scotch could keep the nightmares at bay. But first, he had to make a phone call and accept the job offer from Grayson Services International, based in San Diego. It was about as far away as he could get from Maria without leaving the country.

  Jake wasn’t drunk enough to believe he was dreaming when the soft, warm body nestled alongside his. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. Even blindfolded, he’d know the scent of her, the touch of her.

  “Maria,” he whispered.

  “Hush,” she said, and pressed her naked body against his.

  Although he knew he should, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words that would send her away. If he opened his eyes, her being there would be all too real and he’d say something to hurt her, to make her leave. He needed her too much, and even though he thought it the most selfish thing he’d ever done, he pulled her close and pretended to himself that she was only a dream.

  Delicate fingers traced over his chest, across his ribs, made their way down to his ass. And then—oh, Jesus—and then a shudder passed through him when she cupped his balls, kneading them as if she wanted to imprint the feel of her fingers on them. After playing with them for a few minutes, she danced her talented fingers up his shaft, wrapped them around his erection, and rubbed the tip over her clit.

  Holy God. Jake clinched his balls, his cock, and his stomach to keep from coming right then and there. He’d once been a man who took his pleasure when and where he found it, as often as he could find it.

  Until Maria.

  “You’re holding back,” she whispered, then covered his mouth with hers. “Don’t.” Her last word vibrated over their joined lips.

  He came.

  He came in her hand, couldn’t have stopped it even if he’d put every ounce of his SEAL training to the effort. Surprising him, she scooted down and covered his cock with her mouth, sucking him dry.

  Jesus. Oh, Jesus.

  Amazingly, even drained, he was still as hard as a rock. “Maria.” There were so many things he wanted to say, but only her name seemed to matter.

  She slithered back up his body. “I know. I know, Jake.”

  “I want you so bad, need to be in you . . . I don’t have any condoms.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I do.” She reached over, dragged her purse next to the air mattress, and pulled out a foil package.

  Somewhere in his drunk brain he thought he should stop, make her go, but the man that needed to be inside Maria—needed her this one last time—allowed her to set the rules. Her slick, hot heat drove all thoughts of anything but her from his mind. As he slid in her and out and back in, he wondered if he might be dreaming after all. This couldn’t be real, this slice of heaven not meant for him.

  Those fingers he’d already admired for the things they could do to him slid down the crack of his ass and again grabbed hold of his balls. Where the hell had she learned how to do that?

  Jake wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her into him, wishing the time wouldn’t come when he’d have to let her go. He thrust deep into her, touched her core, and tried to draw her heat into him.

  Home. Maria was home and he’d returned to her safe haven. As long as he held her close, he wouldn’t see Tennessee’s face as he spoke his last dying words. Pushing the thought from his mind, Jake gripped her hips, spread his fingers over her soft skin, and helped her match his rhythm. In and out—slow and easy—in and out. He never wanted it to end.

  All too soon, she clinched her inner muscles around his cock. “JakeJakeJake.”

  The way she called out his name, strung together with no breaths in between, the way it sounded like a plea for something only he could give her, almost severed his control. Gritting his teeth, he waited until the shudders traveling through her body faded. Then he flipped her over, rose to his knees and grabbed her legs, hooking her ankles behind his back.

  Because he feared words he had no right to say would flow from his mouth, he clamped his lips together and pressed his fingertips into her thighs. A need to possess every inch of her rose, bringing with it an aggression he’d never felt before with any woman. There was a beast inside him he never knew existed before her, one that craved to mark her as his, one that wanted to kill any other man who touched her.

  Afraid this violence welling up inside him would cause him to hurt her, he called on all his years of discipline and training, tempering his movements, softening his touch.

  She gave his ass a thump with the heel of a foot. “Stop it. I feel you holding back and I don’t want you to. I want you to give me everything you’re feeling.”

  “I’ll hurt you,” he ground out.

  “Never. Give it to me, Jake. I need it.”

  He couldn’t deny her, couldn’t deny this new need powering up inside, ready to explode. He let go of the control he’d tried to maintain. Still on his knees, he ruthlessly thrust into her, his fingers digging into her skin hard enough to leave bruises.

  “God, yes,” she cried out and rose up, pressing her breasts against his chest. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she scraped her teeth across his shoulder, then clamped them down on his skin.

  “Jesus, Chiquita,” he gasped. The pain was exquisite. Jake cupped her bottom, supporting her and burying his face in her neck, pressed his lips to her pulse point, and inhaled her scent deep into his lungs as he sucked on her skin, satisfying his need to mark her.

  “Now. Please, now.” She wiggled against him, taking him deeper inside her.

  “Maria,” he whispered reverently, knowing it would be the last time he would say her name while joined so intimately together. He came hard and fast, his hips rocking, grinding against her pelvis as though he just might be able to disappear into her depths.

  “Jake,” she answered, whispering too, and tightening her hold on him.

  After one last thrust, h
e eased them down onto the air mattress. Spent, drained to the equivalent of a wet noodle, he combed his fingers through her hair and took a few seconds to regret allowing this to happen and what he was about to say. Although it would hurt her now, she deserved better than him and someday she’d thank him for it.

  It would mean never returning to K2 and the job he loved. When she met the right man and fell in love, there was no way he could bear watching her with someone else, couldn’t stand seeing her have babies who weren’t his. The job on the West Coast was waiting for him, and he’d leave as soon as possible.

  She’d fallen asleep, the way she always did after they made love. For a few more minutes he held her in his arms, trying not to think about it being the last time he’d ever do so. He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, imprinting it in his memory, then kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering on her silky hair.

  Refusing to consider his actions, he slipped his hand under his pillow and palmed his knife. At the bottom of her neck, where she wouldn’t notice it missing, he cut off a strand of her hair. Curling it around his finger, he held it up to the dim light of dawn. Staring at it, an idea occurred to him. Something he could do for her. He wasn’t sure how much he needed, so he plucked a half dozen—probably more than necessary but he wanted to be certain.

  So as to not wake her, he slowly stretched his hand to his duffel bag and grabbed his sunglasses case. After tucking his prize inside it, he slipped the knife back under his pillow and allowed himself a few more precious minutes of watching her sleep in his arms. It would be for the last time.

  The moment had come to let her go.

  Biting back words of love—the things he really wanted to tell her, had planned to say once he’d returned home—he gave her bottom a little slap and forced the hateful words out of his mouth.