Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7)

by Lynn Raye Harris

  Her belly sank at what that must do to him.

  “Did you call Cammie from that phone?”

  He shot her a look. “No. She understands that I sometimes have to disappear and that I’ll call her when I can.”

  “That’s a lot for a kid to process.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  He shook his head as if he were clearing it. “No, it’s fine. I never, uh, I don’t talk about this. There’s no one to talk about it with.”

  “Your guys would understand.”

  “They would… but I’ve never told them about Cammie or her mother. The first any of them heard was when you asked me in the limo. Flash, er, Ryan was kinda shocked, I think.”

  There was a hard knot in her throat. “I’m sorry I outed you that way.”

  “How could you know? And maybe I should have mentioned it. There’ve been times when I wanted to explode, but I had to hide it and pretend all was normal.”

  She picked up a fry. “You know, men could learn a thing or two from women. We talk about everything, usually over a bottle of wine, and have a good cry if we need to.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, I’m going to have a good cry with the guys. Over wine. Just as soon as we get back, I promise.”

  She smacked him lightly on the arm. “Caveman. You should try it before you knock it.”

  “Men don’t share feelings, cupcake. We don’t talk over every aspect of a situation while sharing Chardonnay and doing our nails.”

  “That is totally sexist. I never paint my nails. It’s messy, it stinks, and it starts to chip within hours. It’s a complete waste of time.”

  “Your toenails are painted.”

  “That’s different. And I don’t do it; I pay someone to do it. Besides, it lasts much longer than paint on fingernails— Wait a minute, why are we talking about this? It’s not important. You distracted me on purpose.”

  “Didn’t quite work, did it?”

  “Not really.” She sighed. “Look, you don’t have to tell me about your life—but you should tell someone so you don’t explode. It clearly bothers you a lot. That’s all I’m saying.”

  It started to rain again, a soft mist that coated the windshield and forced Garrett to turn on the wipers. They were old and squeaky, and the noise irritated her. Or maybe it was Garrett who irritated her. She’d told him he didn’t have to talk to her, but after everything they’d shared, she wanted him to.

  “There’s nothing to tell that I haven’t already said. My ex-wife despises me. We married too young, and I don’t know what she thought, but maybe she thought it was supposed to be more magical than it was. I think she resented being pregnant, and then she resented me for being gone so often. Now she tells Cammie that I don’t love her, and that one day I won’t come back. I’ll just stop calling because I’ll find another family and love them more than I do her.”

  Grace’s stomach twisted. “That’s unfair of her.”

  “Fuck yes, it is. Doesn’t stop her though. And she’s right—I might stop calling someday. But it won’t be because I find another family. It’ll be because of this job and the fact one of the bad guys got me. Melissa will know the truth, because the Army will tell her, but she won’t tell Cammie.”

  “Your parents will.”

  Yet she couldn’t stop focusing on what he’d said. He might stop calling because he’d been killed in the line of duty. It sent a chill over her—and even more so because he was putting his life on the line for her right now. What if he died because of her? That was a thought she didn’t even want to contemplate.

  He nodded, his expression dark and angry. “Yeah, they will. But it might not be enough.”

  She wanted to go to him, wanted to put her arms around him and hold him tight, but they were driving down the road, and there was a console between them.

  “You can’t worry about that,” she said. “All you can do is make sure she knows how much you love her.”

  “I try… but it kills me when she cries, when she asks when I’m coming to visit her. I fly down as often as I can, but it’s never enough.”

  She didn’t know what to say. There was no way to make it easier on him, no way to fix this.

  And she wanted to. With her whole being, she wanted to fix it and make him happy. Because he was a good man, and he’d made her happy in the short time she’d known him. He’d made her believe she was—if not beautiful, at least pretty enough to entice a man like him. Her confidence had gotten a boost over the past couple of days, even if her default setting was still to think she wasn’t appealing enough.

  But that was hard to believe when Garrett was buried inside her, taking her to new heights of pleasure and losing his control in the process.

  “You’re a good man, Garrett. I’m not sure how your ex-wife doesn’t believe that, but I think it’s probably clear to everyone who knows you.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say… but maybe you don’t really know me at all. Maybe I am a selfish asshole who doesn’t want to settle down and live a normal life.”

  Her throat was tight. “What’s a normal life anyway?”

  “Beats me,” he said softly.

  *

  Garrett pitched their tent in a campground he’d found along the way. It was small, and there were only six other tents. Not many people went camping in the middle of the week. He’d considered finding a spot other than a campground, but he’d decided they would blend in better this way. One tent among a few didn’t stand out. One tent on its own in the woods, away from a campground, would.

  Not that he doubted his ability to hide, but he figured Grace wasn’t precisely a camper and she might appreciate the false security of other people.

  Grace stood by while he set up the tent, confirming his belief she had no idea how to do it herself. She huddled against the side of the truck, her body encased in a sweatshirt and a jacket they’d found at the thrift shop, her teeth chattering even though she tried not to let him know how cold she was.

  She didn’t look like a brilliant scientist, or a senator’s daughter, right this minute. She looked like a cold, miserable woman who wished she was somewhere with a shower and a bed instead of a cold, wet campground in the middle of Virginia.

  He finished setting up the tent and then went and put his arms around her, tugging her into his embrace. Her arms came up, her hands bunching in the fabric of his jacket as she buried her face against his chest.

  “I’m sorry, cupcake. I know this isn’t what you’re used to.”

  “It’s not,” she said, her voice muffled. “But it’s an adventure.”

  He rubbed his hands up and down her back, her sides. “You’re cold.”

  “A little bit.”

  “Why don’t you go take a shower? Probably won’t be hot, but it’ll be warm at least.”

  She shook her head. “Just hold me.”

  It started to mist again, and he led her into the tent. He’d try to build a fire in the pit soon. He’d picked up a bag of wood on one of their stops, and it was good and dry. But for now, he was content to hold her.

  “Take your shoes and jacket off and get into the sleeping bag.”

  She did as he said, and he did the same, sliding in beside her fully clothed and pulling her close. She tucked her head against his chest again, and warmth spread from where she touched him, through his veins, and into his groin.

  Yeah, he wanted her, but he also wanted to comfort her. He almost wanted it more than he wanted to be inside her. It was a rather surprising thought for a man like him.

  But there was something about Grace, something other than the addictive quality of her body, that got to him. It confused him in some ways, annoyed him in others. She was strong and tough, but she was also a bit lost and vulnerable. He’d never met a woman who managed to be all those things at once.

  At one time, he’d thought Melissa was strong… but he’d been wrong. Melissa was se
lf-destructive and defensive, and she masked it with a false strength that he’d seen through only once it was too late.

  Thoughts of his ex brought him to his daughter. He wanted to call her so badly, but he knew he couldn’t do it. He’d made the decision to go off the grid after those men had found them at the safe house, and he couldn’t go back on again until he’d reached HOT and gotten Grace to safety.

  Yeah, he’d gotten the burner phone, but if he used it to call HOT and then called Cammie, that was a connection. He wasn’t taking that chance, however remote the possibility that someone would find that connection and hurt his daughter.

  He didn’t know where the leak was, but he knew once Colonel Mendez had Grace in HOT HQ, he would make sure she was safe. No one was getting to her there. He’d texted his team leader the code word earlier and received an immediate reply. But when he’d called Matt, he’d given no hint to their route. And Richie Rich, other than asking once, hadn’t pressed him for it.

  Garrett was taking a very long route to Maryland, swinging down deep into Virginia, then planning to head across the busier areas around Norfolk and over to the Delmarva. From there, he’d drive up to the Bay Bridge and cross over, then make for HOT HQ. It was a long, circular route because he had no idea what the threat was or where it would be. No doubt someone would be watching the more highly traveled roads, expecting him to head for the city by the most direct route possible.

  He’d changed out the license plate on the Jeep a few miles ago when the opportunity arose, and he would probably keep this vehicle for the duration. Once he got into the more populated areas, it would be harder to steal a vehicle—though he might steal another plate.

  “I thought camping was supposed to be fun,” Grace said. “With s’mores and singing and telling ghost stories by the fire. At least it was when I was ten.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. “It still can be. You’ll have to try it again sometime.”

  “When I’m not being chased by bad guys, you mean?”

  “Something like that.”

  “They aren’t going to stop so long as they think I can build a bioweapon. So maybe I’ll always be running.”

  He hated the thought of her scared and in danger. His arms tightened around her. “You’ll just have to prove that you can’t. You can’t, can you?”

  For all he knew, she could. Grace was an amazing woman, and while her research chilled him to the bone, he knew she was dedicated and passionate and that she believed she would ultimately be helping people. He couldn’t envision her building a bioweapon, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have the know-how.

  “Of course I can,” she said, and his blood ran cold. “But so can you. So can anyone who thinks about it. Waste in a water supply is crude, but that’s a bioweapon. Still, I know what you mean, and no, that’s not what I do. There are plenty of people out there thinking of ways to do just that, but it never works on a massive scale. Aerosolized anthrax, Ebola, smallpox—these are frightening things to think of, but no one has yet figured out how to make them on the scale that would kill millions. And that’s a good thing.”

  It dawned on him why people were so interested in what she’d done. “That’s what makes a super flu virus so frightening. It spreads easily and naturally once you’ve introduced it. No need for spraying or tampering with a water supply.”

  “Yes, that’s true. And we don’t have the immunity to protect ourselves from it. Not everyone would die from it, but millions would. This is why it’s critical to know what’s possible and to work on a vaccine for it.” She curled her fists in his shirt. “I don’t understand why some people are so evil as to think using viruses as weapons is a good idea. Because how do they protect themselves? How do they stop it from annihilating the people they want to protect? If you turn something loose, you run the risk of it getting out of control. And then what? We’re all dead, or most of us anyway.”

  He thought of the things he’d seen, the terrorists who blew up random targets without concern for innocent lives, the evil bastards who killed without discretion, the people who hungered for power and glory and thought any means necessary to achieve those goals was acceptable. HOT had found plans for weapons of mass destruction on Al Ahmad’s personal computer when they’d captured him. He’d been researching how to do it. His first choice was a nuke, because he could target that. But his next choice was an aerosolized virus.

  Just because that evil bastard was rotting away in Guantanamo Bay didn’t mean others like him weren’t trying to do the same thing. The Freedom Force was still in Qu’rim, still working to regain strength—and then there were the myriad terror groups around the world that wanted to harm or control a government or a state by any method they could.

  “Honey, some people just aren’t rational,” he finally said. “They’re too blinded by hate or fear or the lust for power to see what the real consequences will be. They delude themselves, and they won’t stop seeking a way to achieve their means. That’s why my guys—and all the others out there like us—exist. We’re trying to stop them before they succeed.”

  She shuddered, and he pushed away just enough to see her face. She gave him a wan smile.

  “Sorry, it’s nerves and stress and cold, I think. I’ll be all right.”

  “You should sleep. You’ll feel better once you do.” Because they’d been running on adrenaline for the past two days—and she’d been stressed before that with the change in her routine when he showed up.

  She lifted a cold hand to his face. “I’d sleep better if you’d make love to me first.”

  He told himself every time that he shouldn’t. That he should put a stop to this because it wasn’t going anywhere, and as soon as this job was over he’d never see her again.

  But not yet. Not yet. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SHE WAS FALLING FOR HIM. Grace muffled her cries of pleasure by pressing her mouth against his naked shoulder. She lay beneath him, his big body driving her over the edge with such precision and skill that tears sprang to her eyes.

  Or maybe that was because she was feeling things she shouldn’t be feeling, and she knew he didn’t feel the same. They’d been together a matter of days, and she knew that his child came first in his life. She would expect nothing less. If Cammie wasn’t first, then he wouldn’t be the sort of man Grace could love.

  And she could love him. She didn’t yet, but it wouldn’t be hard to do at all. No, she didn’t know him well—but his character was clear to her. He was the kind of man who had deep loyalties and strong ethics. A good, solid man who loved deeply and thoroughly, though cautiously. He’d been hurt, and he’d lost those he loved. That couldn’t be easy on a person.

  “Grace,” he gasped in her ear as he went over the edge. His body pinned hers, her legs wrapped around his hips as he lost himself inside her. “Grace,” he said again, softer now, his lips at her ear, her neck, her breast. He sucked a nipple lazily, and her body bowed up to his, still ready for more in spite of how drained she was.

  She threaded her fingers into his hair and held him there. His cock pulsed inside her, seeming to grow harder. Each time she felt the strength of his want for her, it made her heart skip and her belly flutter.

  “Have to change the condom first,” he muttered, sliding out of her.

  She felt the warmth of his semen spilling from her body then. He must have realized it at the same time she did because she felt him stiffen in the darkness of the tent.

  “It’s okay, Garrett.” She reached out and ran her fingers over his stubbled cheek. She knew what his fear was, and she could alleviate that right away. “I’m on the pill, and I’m healthy.”

  He let out a harsh breath, swearing as he did so. Then he caught her fingers and kissed them. “I’m healthy too.”

  She laughed a little self-consciously. “I haven’t had sex in months, but I guess I hoped I would—so I kept up with the prescription. You don’t have to worry.” />
  He got up from the sleeping bag, presumably to dispose of the remains of the condom. She thought he would come back to her, but instead he started putting on his clothes. She could tell by the rustling of fabric. And the click of weaponry as he checked it and put it into the various holsters he wore.

  “Garrett?” She pushed up on an elbow and stared at his dark form. She wished she could see his face.

  “Go to sleep, Grace,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”

  Hurt blossomed in her soul, though she told herself it was silly. She had no right to feel hurt. Nothing to hurt for. But she did.

  “You’re upset about the condom, aren’t you?”

  “It’s nothing. Leave it.”

  He sounded cold, and it shocked her. But she couldn’t let it go. “I understand why you’d be upset. I really do. But I’m not pregnant, and I’m not going to be. It was an accident.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  It hurt to hear him dismiss her so easily. But maybe she needed to get used to it. A few more days, and he’d most likely be gone. He couldn’t be her bodyguard forever. He was a military soldier, and he no doubt had a job to do that didn’t involve watching her.

  “You were just inside me, and now you don’t want to talk about something that clearly upsets you? How do you think that makes me feel?”

  He swore. “We aren’t having a relationship, Grace. We’re having sex. I love fucking you. I’m addicted to it, for Christ’s sake, and it pisses me off. But having a baby with you? With anyone? That sobers me right up, because I can’t do that again. I can’t have another woman use my kid against me, try her damnedest to make my kid hate me just because I don’t fit her definition of a partner. I won’t go through it again—not for you, not for anyone.”