The Enigma Series Boxed Set

by Tierney James

  Thoughts turning to the night with Darya, she remembered how she almost compromised all she believed in before making desperate promises to escape Afghanistan.

  Laying her hand over her face could not remove the vision of Darya’s half-naked body pulling her toward ecstasy and betrayal.

  “You’re trembling,” Darya spoke between passionate kisses. “Are you afraid of me?” Taking a moment to pull her into his bare arms he examined the exposed shoulder he’d freed from her dress. “I promise not to hurt you, Tessa.”

  A heated blush spread up her neck then face as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I’m terrified.”

  Darya kissed her throat then cheek. “Why? We have been through so much. Do you want me to say ‘I love you’ because I will a thousand times to have you?”

  “I’ve not been with…” She stuttered and pulled away as he brought her face back to his. “No man besides Robert, my husband.”

  “And now I am your husband, Tessa.” He rubbed his hand up and down her bare back. “Besides, did we not share a kind of passion in the Pamirs? Have you forgotten how we made each other feel?”

  He finished unzipping her dress to her waist. “I owe you. I promised if you got us out of Afghanistan, I would be your wife in every way.”

  Darya slipped off the bed and pulled her after him. “Yes. I’m afraid I tricked you. My plans were to bring you back all along. I admired your courage and willingness to protect the children at any cost. Taking advantage of that resolve gave me a reason to believe in the goodness of my fellow Americans again.” His stroking her arms did nothing to cool the passion which flared up between them.

  She wrapped her arms around him; he stood still with his chin resting on top of her head.

  “I’m sorry, Darya, I’ve let you down.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t find you before Captain Hunter.”

  Pushing back, Tessa wanted to process his words. “You mean Robert.”

  “No. Captain Hunter is stalking you for his own.”

  “You’re wrong. He’s protective of his team.”

  Darya ran his hands through her hair then kissed her mouth. “He fears me more than Robert. You are a creature of desire and dreams, a woman not to be contained in the box Robert has put you in. If this were not so, you wouldn’t be at Enigma. The captain knows I’m his equal and a great deal more impatient than he in waiting for what I want.” Tessa felt bewildered and frightened. “But I will honor your wishes to keep your first marriage sanctified until the time you need me again. Then”—Darya ran his hands over her shoulders then down her sides until they rested on her hips—“I will want my wife to honor her duty to her husband. Your love belongs to two men and Robert is not one of them.”

  Raising her chin, Tessa let her gaze travel around his angular face. “I know.” She took his hand and placed it on her heart. “You are here always.”

  Taking a deep breath, he handed her the discarded high heels and her handbag. After she took a yellow raincoat from the closet he walked her outside to her car. “Before you go, let me tell you my plans.”

  Tessa waved good-bye as he went back inside. When she turned to open the car door, a figure loomed in front of her.

  “That didn’t take long.” Sometimes Sam had the uncanny ability to sound like the wicked witch from Hansel and Gretel. She reached out and rubbed a finger across the corner of Tessa’s mouth. “Better clean yourself up, Betty Crocker.”

  “What are you doing here, Sam?”

  “The director thought our tribesman might be planning on running. I volunteered to keep an eye on him after his hotel reservations mysteriously vanished.” Sam sought out the second-story window, and Tessa followed her gaze to see Darya watching them. Sam handed Tessa her keys. “Guess someone blocked you in. No way you’re getting out. Take my car.” Her attention returned to Tessa. “I can watch from your car as good as my own.” Sam unlocked the car door and slid inside. “Would it hurt you to vacuum this thing out? Smells like dirty socks.” She wrinkled her nose. “I called the librarian; you can stay with her.”

  “Claudia?” Tessa couldn’t imagine Claudia agreeing to the request. Known to be rather eccentric and a neat freak, the only friend she claimed was Chase who indulged her weird behavior. “She said I could come over?”

  An exasperated sigh passed through Sam’s lips as she shoved her all the way to the car.

  But it hadn’t been okay. Claudia wouldn’t even let Tessa in the door. She lived in the same building as Chase, so she took Tessa to his condo and pushed her through the door then left. She deactivated the alarm system and grumbled as she left, “Chase wouldn’t care. He isn’t home anyway. He likes you. It’s okay. He won’t care.” Being slightly autistic, the woman tended to repeat the obvious.

  She’d arrived hours ago then taken half of an antihistamine tablet she’d found in her purse and dozed off before she could stew much about the events of the evening. Now here she lay next to the man who pretended to find her annoying on most occasions, interesting on others.

  Rolling to her side, Tessa suspended her hand over his bent head, deciding whether or not to touch his ebony hair which had grown down over his neck. She’d never seen it so long and thick. Scooting closer, she dared toy with the strands, bringing a few close to her nose to inhale his scent. Resting her hand on his shoulder, she watched his chest rise and fall in a slow rhythm.

  Daring to let her hand move to his chest to feel the beat of his heart, Tessa realized she was close enough to inhale his masculine scent causing Darya’s words to haunt her. Some of her memories of Chase remained fuzzy on the outskirts of her mind, but touching him made her feel, and it was not the same as Darya.

  As she withdrew her hand from his chest, Chase lifted his head from sleep and spoke through a yawn. “Why didn’t you get in the bed?”

  “Seriously? I didn’t want to sleep on the same sheets as your brainy bimbos.”

  “I don’t bring women here. I stay at their places, and they can change the sheets.”

  “Good to know.” Tessa made an effort to sit up as Chase turned to face her. “Guess I was a surprise when you got home. If I’d known you were coming in so soon, I would have found a hotel room. Claudia refused to let me stay with her after saying she would.” Tessa swung her legs to the floor and noticed Chase gawking at them before pushing himself to a standing position.

  Chase stretched out his arms then yawned again.

  “Why didn’t you go to bed?” Tessa let him pull her to her feet then stepped away to put some distance between them. The realization they’d shared a deep friendship in the past surfaced in the back of her mind.

  “I don’t like to sleep alone on Saturday nights. Since you took up the whole sofa like a spoiled feline, there wasn’t any room for me. I thought about carrying you to the bed but figured I’d get kicked in the crotch or thrown through the plate glass window.” He put his hand over his heart. “It would have been totally innocent on my part, of course.” His boyish grin gave her goose bumps as Darya’s words of warning kept rushing at her.

  “You’d best remember that, Captain Hunter.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “I’d better go. Robert is coming home early. His flight arrives at ten.”

  “Delayed. Snowstorm in Chicago. So relax.”

  Tessa wanted to ask how he knew but remembered Enigma knew everything, even pointless details like when someone’s husband was snowed in in another city. She moved toward the kitchen.

  “Hungry?” he asked, following her on bare feet.

  “Starved.”

  “Good. Me, too. Fix us something.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “Coffee, strong. Not like the stuff you drink.” She plugged in the coffeepot as he opened the drawer and pulled out some silverware. He grabbed a knife and dropped it on the counter, sending Tessa up against the wall with a gasp.

  “Tessa,” Chase said reaching for her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He shoved the knife back in the drawer. “Baby, it’s okay. I d
idn’t mean to.” He stepped closer, careful to slow his speech and movements. “Come here.”

  Stepping forward, she touched his arms. “I’m still a bit of a mess, Chase. I’m okay. Really.”

  Chase placed his hand on the back of her head, but she jerked away. “Go. Get a shower. I’ll see if there’s anything to eat.” He didn’t move until she shoved at his chest.

  “Please, Chase. I need a minute. When I get a cup of coffee, I’ll be good as new.”

  He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar. Wondering if he thought she’d call out to him if needed or maybe join him in the shower felt a bit disconcerting.

  She found a coffee cake in the freezer and had popped it into the microwave when her phone beeped. Seeing Darya’s picture, she slithered farther back into the kitchen for privacy.

  “Hello.”

  “Leaving. Taking your car. I’ll leave it in Auburn.”

  “My car?” Had Sam decided to leave after the lights went out in her apartment?

  “Captain Hunter dropped by last night. Said I’d let you know. Wasn’t too happy to see me.”

  “You’ll keep your word?” Tessa whispered.

  “You know the plan, Tessa, and where I’ll be. I’m a phone call away.”

  The line went dead as Chase came through the bedroom door in clean jeans with a red T-shirt stretched across his chest. “What smells so good?”

  She managed to lay her phone down and move to the microwave. “Caramel coffee cake. Found it in the freezer. Coffee is ready, too.”

  Once she removed the pastry, Chase divided it up onto plates then grabbed some paper towels for napkins. After he carried the food to the bar dividing the kitchen from the living room, Tessa joined him with two mugs of steaming coffee.

  “I stopped by your apartment before I came here last night.” He funneled in a large piece of cake and talked through his chewing.

  Tessa picked up her coffee and let the heat seep into her hands. “Pretty late to be paying me a visit. Sounds like stalking.” She set her cup down and pointed a fork at him.

  “Someone besides Darya was there.”

  Tessa’s fork paused in midair.

  “I thought it was you. I could see an unmade bed and clothes were everywhere. You can imagine what I thought.” He leveled an accusing glare as he continued to chew then gulped his coffee.

  “Must have been Agent Nymphomaniac.”

  “Sam.” Chase smirked. “Jealous?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. A little.” I’m going to strangle the woman.

  “I got the impression something else happened up there in the mountains. Wasn’t there a wedding night?”

  “Yes. But I bargained my way to freedom.”

  He cocked his head to the side, brow furrowed. “So you never slept with him.”

  “Holy cow. Of course I slept with him,” she snapped indignantly. “But we never consummated the marriage. Isn’t that what you’re asking?” Tessa slid off the barstool and carried her plate to the sink. “It’s none of your business, Chase.”

  Chase joined her and set his plate on top of hers then moved to the coffeepot. “You mean to tell me a man like Darya didn’t take advantage of you after paying a handsome sum to marry you?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. I’ve slept with you and we’ve never had sex.” What an irritating insinuation. Besides, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

  “I’m a gentleman.”

  “So is he. We never had sex. Not even last night when…” Chase raised his chin as if anticipating bad news. “When he could have collected on our deal.”

  “Tessa, you are going to have to stop promising your body to men like me and Darya when times get tough.” Her mouth flew open in protest as he laughed. “You promised me the same thing when you thought I was dying in D.C.” He repeated word for word what she offered him if he’d fight to stay alive. He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest, muscles bulging. “How many men am I going to have to kill to stay at the head of the line?”

  “You’re insufferable.” She hurried past him into the living room and grabbed her purse. Hopping on one foot to slip on her shoes slowed her escape. His deep laugh followed her as she headed to the door. As her hand touched the doorknob, Chase put his hand on the door, preventing it from opening.

  His breath came next to her ear. “Don’t go, Tessa.” She turned her head, finding him staring down at her. “Don’t go.”

  “This is a mistake,” she whispered as her eyes fell on his mouth.

  Her phone beeped from the kitchen counter where she’d left it. “Are you going to get that?”

  Tessa hurried to the kitchen and picked up her phone. A picture of Sam tied and gagged in her apartment greeted her. She choked back laughter as she carried it to Chase. “Guess I’m not the only one capable of making mistakes.” To her surprise, Chase laughed out loud.

  Epilogue

  S creams burst the silence of the village where large fires burned in deep holes in the ground. Men huddled around the blazes as their backs turned away from the tent where their leader received medical attention. His death had been imminent, yet he had survived his terrible wounds.

  A doctor pushed back the flap of the tent and motioned for one of the men to come inside.

  “He wants to talk to you. Don’t stay long. I had to remove his leg below the knee.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand how he is still conscious.”

  The Taliban fighter entered and covered his nose from the smell of rotting flesh. As he moved closer, Massoud coughed then turned his head to acknowledge his presence.

  “You have a job,” he coughed again then grimaced. After a few seconds, he continued. “They need to die. All of them.”

  “Who, Massoud?”

  “That Kyrgyz pig, the American soldier who helped him, and the woman.”

  “The woman?”

  “The one with the yellow hair and blue eyes. The one they call Tessa. Especially her.”

  THE END

  KIFARU

  Dedicated to my dear friend who likes cowboys, camping, books and art.

  Melanie Cox Smith

  Acknowledgments

  Every book has a group of people who help bring the story to life. In this case, I’ll have to say they helped polish a diamond in the rough. Many thanks to the following people:

  Wizards of Publishing: Kate you are a wonder. You continue to make me a better writer and encourage me to see things another way.

  Paperback-Press: Sharon, thank you for your hard work and hand holding when I need it. You are a gem. No pun intended! Well maybe a little.

  My street team: So many of you offer to read my books ahead of publication, offering insight to areas where I have slipped up or left out a key component to a character’s dilemma. You always help get the word out, never expecting anything in return. I love you.

  Sweet & Spicy Designs: Jaycee always surprises me in creating book covers. When I have no idea which direction to go, she always manages to help me find my way. Thank you for your patience and beautiful art.

  The Three Musketeers: Willy Robbins, Shirley McCann and Melanie Smith, I owe so much to you creative people for believing in me along this author road filled with potholes and incomplete stories. It takes people like you to give me the confidence to continue and the courage to finish the journey each time I start a new book.

  Sleuths’ Ink Mystery Writers: I would never have continued writing if it weren’t for all of you. Bless you and the support you give to all new writers.

  Prologue

  Botswana, Africa Thirty-Seven Years Ago

  T he rains refused to come for yet another day to the parched land of the Okavango. The end of winter often reflected a temperamental attitude toward reviving the edges of the Kalahari. The pools that refreshed elephants, marabou storks, and wildebeests shrank to puddles, forcing many species to gather there on a daily basis, ignoring the competition in order to s
urvive yet another cruel trick of Mother Nature.

  The only upside of the situation was it provided tourists on safari the advantage of seeing so many species, up close and personal, from their camouflaged Land Rovers. Besides the yip of zebra and trumpet sounds of wary elephants, the wind rustling across brittle grasses created the kind of National Geographic moment they paid good money to experience. The click of cameras mingling with the soft purr of an engine moving across the earth, back toward camp, lulled guests into a satisfied reverie.

  The sun painted a postcard sunset as it dipped into the Okavango Delta. Native workers from a nearby village built fires under kettles of water, so returning tourists could shower away the dust kicked up by animals and vehicles. A campfire blazed under the grand community shelter of thatch and timber. Lanterns glowed in the fading light of day to establish an ambience of romance. Linens placed on an eight-foot, rough-hewn table added yet another layer of sparkle to a desperate land thirsty for the life-giving rain promised by hundreds of years of monotonous predictability.

  Refreshed and hungry from his daily adventure, Dr. Girard meandered toward the open-air dining room. John, now dressed in khaki-colored clothes, holding a tray of fluted glasses filled with tepid champagne, greeted him by name. The young man had been their guide for three days, sharing the folklore of various birds and plants. His infectious, wide smile drew compliments on his endeavors to entertain them each day. The easy way he mingled with them added to the overall experience promised by the brochures of exotic travel. But the man tended to be more interested in his budding friendship with Dr. Girard than the others. They shared long talks when poling through the Okavango on one of the boats called mokoros.