That last bit had been uncalled for, and she knew it as he slammed the door behind him. But the clarity of the dream had taken her back to that hellish day. Back to a defining moment in her life when she’d finally understood the meaning of man’s inhumanity to man. As a species, humans were capable of a savagery she’d understood only on an intellectual level. She’d witnessed it, and it had marked her. Unalterably. For better or worse. She wondered where Acosta and Boudreaux were and what they were doing now. She sighed and picked up the phone to order breakfast. That was something else she’d learned as she watched people starve to death in horrible conditions at the refugee camps. Eat whenever possible, because the next meal might not come before you die.
A discreet knock and a heavily accented, “Room service, madame,” had Angelique pulling on the thick terry cloth robe the hotel provided its guests.
Sunrise in Paris was something she would carry with her forever. The purples and pinks had disappeared while she was insulting Arnaud, leaving a glowing ball of white, surrounded by a warm, gold halo that peeked through the opening above the arched base of the Eifel Tower. The coffee was dark and rich, the bacon crispy, the eggs scrambled to perfection. While she did appreciate French cuisine, nothing compared to a good old American breakfast. The French could turn up their noses all they wanted. That was another result of her time in Darfur. She no longer gave a rat’s ass what anybody thought. If she wanted to get laid, she was going to get herself laid. If she wanted bacon and eggs, she’d, by God, have bacon and eggs.
She settled into the chair, propped her feet on the balcony, and raised the cup to her lips, savoring the rich, dark coffee and steamed milk. It was good, but she missed the bitter bite of chicory that was the hallmark of New Orleans café au lait. The bitterness offset the sweet powdered-sugar coating of the traditional beignet. She closed her eyes, thoughts going back to a Mardi Gras years ago, when she was a college girl in med school at Tulane. Had she ever been so young and wild? Mitch Acosta and Seth Boudreaux were two soldiers on leave from Kosovo. She’d met them on Bourbon Street at the height of Mardi Gras. One dark; one light. Colombian American and a native New Orleanian. They’d danced and drank all night, sandwiching her between them, then laughing and stumbling to Café Du Monde in the morning light. Three huge cups of café au lait and a sack of beignets later, they’d lured her up to their hotel room. Seth had been creative with the confectioner’s sugar.
“J’ai une envie de toi, cher,” Seth had murmured, licking her nipples. I got a craving for you. Yeah, she’d had a craving for him too. For both of them, and she’d been wild enough in those days to indulge those cravings.
Acosta was the one who really set her pulse to racing. When he’d knelt at the foot of the bed, she’d watched as he skimmed her jeans and panties off while his partner in crime had tormented her breasts until she was panting. Then he’d skimmed his hands up the insides of her legs and spread them apart.
“Knew you were a natural blonde, querida.” There was a slight Spanish lilt to his voice when he spoke, a gentle rolling of the r, and she’d wondered if that roll of the tongue would translate when he went down on her. It had.
Dear Lord, the things they’d done together. Her first and only ménage à trois. Hands and tongues all over her body, touching her everywhere. Two cocks filling her, taking her places she’d never been before. Orgasms so intense all other pleasure paled in comparison. They’d spent the entire two weeks with her before returning to their base and their next assignment. Then they’d found her again in Darfur, but there’d been no repeat of their time in New Orleans because Seth had been wounded in the assault on the village. But Acosta had stayed by her side. He and his men escorted them to Nyala; then she was off to the refugee camps in Chad, and Acosta was off to his next assignment.
Her next assignment was already set too. She was off to the wilds of Ecuador to work with the people impacted by the drug and arms trades on the border with Colombia. Not only did they have the cartels and FARC to worry about, but gold had been discovered in them there hills and more and more Colombians were being run off their own land as the guerillas and militias sought to fill their coffers and increase their personal wealth and power. Still, it would be a walk in the park compared to her last posting. She was testifying before the International Criminal Court on Darfur.
Chapter Two
ICC, The Hague
“I arrived in Darfur in 2004, after completing my residency. The violence had begun the previous year and raged, unabated, as I began my first deployment with the Helping Hands aid organization. Target populations of Sudanese militia forces, known as the Janjaweed, were the Fur, Zaghawa, and Masalit ethnic groups. As I traveled from Nyala to the camps, I encountered bombed-out villages, burned crops and food stores, wells poisoned by butchered animals and people. As a young intern, I’d seen my share of gang violence at Charity Hospital in New Orleans, but I was completely unprepared for the savagery I encountered in Sudan.
“Prior to the expulsion of aid organizations, I was working in a field hospital established in a camp some distance north of Nyala. The camp was attacked by Janjaweed forces. We heard the screaming from inside the hospital compound, the pleas of the villagers, gunfire, cries of pain and fear, smoke from the burning of what few food stores were available. Then a truck broke through the gates and flooded the compound with militia soldiers. Women and children were dragged from their rooms.” Angelique paused for a moment, gathering herself, then continued. “Our doctors and nurses were dragged outside to bear witness. I saw babies ripped from their mother’s arms and bayoneted while the women were being raped. One of my nurses was nearly assaulted. If I hadn’t stepped between her and her would-be attacker…but the commander ordered the man to ‘kill the black slaves,’ and then he told me we were being spared so we could tell our American friends that the same would happen to them if they continued to help the people of Darfur.
“The hospital was heavily damaged by gunfire. Drastically needed medical supplies and equipment…” Angelique took a deep breath, but there was still a quaver to her voice when she continued. “We gathered what we could. Women who had been savagely assaulted climbed to their feet and began sweeping up, setting things to right so we could help those who had been shot or mutilated with machetes.
“I…we…were lucky because the director of our little hospital was in Nyala, and he informed some American military advisors that we were stranded with no communication and so we had no way of knowing Helping Hands had less than twenty-four hours to evacuate. The Janjaweed fled when the advisors arrived, and they helped us with the injured, set a guard, and kept us safe throughout the night. At first light, they loaded us into trucks and transported us to Nyala, where we were flown to Chad to continue our work. At the time of our departure, it is estimated that some two hundred thousand individuals had been killed, while over two million had been driven from their homes.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I could tell you of my time in the refugee camps in Chad, but that task falls to someone else. My time in Darfur is done, and I’m moving on to another country, another crisis. Before I leave, however, I urge this court to continue to pursue arrest warrants for the men responsible for the genocide in Darfur. Justice demands it, the victims deserve it, and the world is watching. Thank you.”
MITCH STOOD IN the shadows and listened to Angelique’s testimony, watched the slide show that slowly moved across a screen displaying the grisly sights Angelique had documented during her time in Darfur. His heart hurt when he thought about what she’d endured for the past five years. It was no wonder she was damaged. Her refusal to deal with the trauma worried him. She dulled her emotions with alcohol and sex, fiercely trying to shut out the horror she’d witnessed, but it all came back to her in dreams and a coldness she hadn’t possessed when first they’d met.
She was no less lovely than she had been when he and Seth had first met her dancing down Bourbon Street during that wild, unfettered Mardi Gras. But the vi
vacious, idealistic, young med student was gone, replaced by this emotionless doctor who could testify about horrors so vile they made hardened soldiers flinch. There were times when he’d felt he could almost see waves of anger rolling off her. It was there in the way she held herself aloof from anyone who lived in the world beyond the humanitarian arena. She was scornful of those who did not know or care about the suffering experienced by people in faraway countries with exotic names. One day, he was sure, that anger would boil over with consequences he dared not contemplate.
Would she ever heal? Could she ever regain that lust for life that had so captivated him? The idealism was lost to the realities of war, but maybe he could help her to feel again. He watched as she gathered her papers and stood, nodded, and took her leave. He hurried outside to wait for her, talk her into having dinner with him, letting him spend the night.
“Hello, Angel.” He chuckled softly as her lips formed a surprised O.
“Acosta?” She slung her tattered messenger bag over her shoulder and flung herself at him. “Oh my God! When did you…how? Did you testify?”
He lifted her off her feet, swung her around, before setting her back down. Damn but she felt good against him. “This morning, and when I saw your name on the witness list, I knew I had to stay.”
She gave him the full force of her smile, and Mitch thought his knees might give out. “I’m so glad you did.” She looked around. “Is Boudreaux here?”
Mitch nodded. “He is. Testified before me, then left with a little Scandinavian beauty. You know Seth. His life is a smorgasbord of beautiful women.”
Angelique laughed, and he knew she wasn’t overly disappointed that Seth wasn’t with him. “Well, there are certainly enough of them here. Honestly, I’ve never seen so many gorgeous women. It’s disheartening.”
Mitch snorted. “They’ve got their share, I’ll give them that, but I only have eyes for you, Angel.”
“More the fool you.” She laughed and tucked her arm underneath his. Of course, she thought he was bullshitting her, but her smile told him she was pleased nonetheless. “It’s sweet of you to say so, but I look like a concentration-camp refugee. Speaking of which, care to join me for dinner? I have reservations at Bassal. Maybe after dinner we can go back to my room, rent a couple of pay-per-view movies, and gorge ourselves on popcorn and beer.”
He led the way. “How long before you head stateside?”
“I have one glorious week; then I’m New Orleans-bound for a week with my family. I have to put on the feed bag before I get home so my poor mother doesn’t pass out. Bitsy is one of those women who think you can never be too thin or have too much money, but even she would agree that Africa has taken its toll. Then I’m off for a summer program on tropical health at Johns Hopkins.”
“Well, that sounds—”
“Fascinating? Hideous?” She laughed when he grimaced. “I can’t tell you how I’m looking forward to the module on intestinal infections.”
He cracked up. “Yeah, I can see why. But tell me, where are you spending this one glorious week of downtime before heading back to the States?” Please God, let her say she’ll still be in Europe.
“Oh, a group of us have rented a villa on Hydra, in the village of Kamini. Have you ever been there?”
They arrived at the restaurant, and Mitch held the door for her to enter. “I haven’t. Most of my time in Europe is spent in Germany, with a few short trips to Paris and London. And of course, we were in Kosovo.” He followed behind her as the hostess led them to a table. “I’ve seen pictures, though. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a blue quite like the Aegean Sea.” He briefly scanned the menu. “Any idea what you want to eat?”
Her gaze collided with his. “You mean, aside from you? I believe I’m in the mood for a thick, juicy steak. How about you?”
Mitch grinned. “Angel, it’s nice to know we’re on the same page.”
* * * *
Christ, she was staying in one of the royal suites, which was basically a penthouse, though it was small. As career army, he’d never be able to afford such luxury, and it brought home the fact that his Angel was used to the finer things in life, coming as she had from old Southern money. He didn’t know why the idea of her being rich bothered him. It wasn’t as if she acted rich. She’d certainly never turned her nose up at him, and she was as compassionate as they came, working to improve the lives of the poorest of the poor. Hell, he was probably the only one bothered by her background. He took the card key from her, opened the door, and snagged her around the waist to lift her off her feet. “I can’t wait to get you naked.”
Shit. Angelique shrugged out of her jacket and, yeah, she was right. She was damn skinny. He didn’t know much about women’s dress sizes, but as he unzipped the stretch-knit dress, Mitch knew if it wasn’t for the spandex incorporated into the material, the tiny dress would have hung on her. She definitely needed fattening up. He smoothed the dress off her shoulders, and she let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it. She might be thin, but the woman had great taste in underwear.
“Damn, baby, that’s hot.” And it was. Tiny black panties with pink pinstripes and thin pink ties joining front to back. The matching demibra plumped up breasts that had once filled his hands to overflowing. He practically tore off his own clothes as he stalked her across the room. “You might want to take those delicate things off, honey, before they get torn, because I’ve got a powerful hard-on for you.”
She laughed, but he could tell she was self-conscious as she reached around and unhooked her bra. She cupped her breasts in her hands with a grimace. “I used to have boobs.”
Mitch kicked his clothes aside. “You still have them; they’re just smaller.” He took her in his arms and skimmed his hand down her back. Damn, he could practically count every vertebra. “Once we strap the feed bag on you, you’ll fill out just fine.” He hooked his thumbs through the sides of her panties and dragged them down. “Until then, let’s see if I can’t fill you up with something else.” He tore open a condom and covered himself. “I’m going to show you just how hot I still think you are.”
GOD, SHE LOVED the way Mitch kissed, his tongue melding with hers in a velvety swirl that at once coaxed and demanded. His cock throbbed against her belly, and she moaned, wanting him so badly her body actually shook with the need. He moved his hand to her breast, caressing and teasing a beaded nipple, tweaking lightly until she was trembling with the need to come. With a hard, twisting pinch, the orgasm rolled through her, and she cried his name.
“That’s right, baby; God, I love to watch you come.” His voice was honey-thick with desire as he lifted her. She automatically wrapped one leg around his waist, then the other, as he pressed her against the window. She was wet and ready for him, and they both groaned as he settled her over his thick cock. “You feel good, Angel. I love fucking you. I love the feel of your pussy wrapped around me, taking me so deep, the way it feels when you come, milking every drop from me.”
He gripped her ass, holding her tightly as he drove into her, their tongues thrusting in unison with their bodies. He ground against her clit, and she knew she couldn’t hold on much longer. “Mitch, I’m gonna come again. Come with me, sugar; fuck me hard and come with me.”
He spun around and dumped her on the bed, crawled on behind her, flipped her over, and dragged her to her knees. “Yes, oh yes,” she hissed. “Fuck me like that. Hard and fast, Mitch.”
She couldn’t suppress a throaty laugh when he growled and entered her with a hard thrust that made her teeth click. She screeched and snagged the pillow to muffle the sounds of her cries as he plunged into her over and over. She came hard, clutching the duvet with her fists. Behind her, Mitch drove in one last time, roaring out his release as he came.
“Holy shit.” He gasped, all but collapsing on top of her. She grunted, and he murmured an apology, spooning her as he rolled onto his side. “I think I might have ruptured something.”
Unable to help herself, Angelique
laughed, gasping for breath. “I forgot…how intense…you are. God, that was great.”
They lay there silently, spiraling down from what had just passed between them. Angelique spoke. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could spend the next week lolling around on the terrace of a Grecian villa feeding me sinfully fattening food and rubbing suntan lotion on my back.”
Mitch laughed and withdrew from her. “Well shit, honey, what’s in it for me?”
“Um, all the hot monkey love you can tolerate, anytime you want it?”
He got up and went to the adjoining bathroom. The water came on, and she knew he was cleaning up, disposing of the condom. He came back out, tanned and beautiful, and stretched out beside her. “Shit, man, that just might kill me, but I’d surely die a happy man.” He reached for the room-service menu. “Let’s get you started with the sinfully fattening food right now, seeing as how you’ve probably burned off every calorie you gained at dinner.”
She uttered a snorty laugh. “Ya think? What’s good on that menu?”
“Hell, I don’t know. You have to wonder how good a burger and fries from Holland can actually be. But this is a Hilton, so maybe…oh, crap, and ice cream sundaes, with plenty of whipped cream and walnuts.”
Angelique sat up. “Oh man, a burger with the works and a big pile of fries. Oh, or onion rings. And extra cherries.”
He grimaced in disgust. “Cherries on a burger?”
“On the sundaes, you horse’s ass.”
He grinned and grabbed the phone. “Yeah, this is Ms. Vernet’s suite. The good doctor is starving and would like to order some food.” He hung up after giving the order and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply. As always, she melted against him. When he broke the kiss, he asked, “Are you sure about Kamini? I mean, what about your friends? And I wouldn’t want to, you know, step on any toes.”
Beyond Redemption Page 2
