by Dana Marton
“Here, take these.”
He did so before falling back on the pillow with a groan.
Stubborn, stubborn man. He should have gone to the hospital. She looked at Mrs. Slocsky’s cell phone on the kitchen counter. The last person he had talked to was his boss. If she hit redial… She grabbed the phone and pushed the power button. The screen remained black. She pushed power a few more times before she realized the battery was dead.
Nicola sat on the edge of the bed, defeated and bone tired. Alex was out, she had no phone, and she had no idea where she was. He had taken back roads, different ones each time. A wave of panic pushed against her, threatening to drown her. She fought it. For herself and for Alex. He needed her. She would not let him down.
Help was on the way, she was sure of it. Alex had called. She wondered how her father fared, if he’d heard of this latest attack by now. Was he safe? Suddenly she would have given anything to know.
She rubbed her forehead, and her fingertips came away black. God, she was filthy. She rubbed at the dark spots on her leg and they smudged, not shadows after all, but soil and soot from climbing all over creation.
She had to take a shower. She had washed her hands before she treated Alex’s wounds, but if she were to take care of him, the rest of her had better be clean, too. She didn’t dare risk him getting an infection due to less than sanitary conditions.
She grabbed a long T-shirt from the hall closet, walked into the bathroom, then turned on the light and looked at herself in the mirror for the first time that night. She looked as if she’d been rolled in mud. Hard to believe Alex had actually kissed her like that. His mind must have been addled by pain. And, of course, it had been dark.
Shouldn’t be thinking about his kisses. They were dangerous—gentle and passionate at the same time—the kind you wished went on and on, the kind that could make a woman fall in love with the man. And she couldn’t do that. Not with Alex. He would be gone the day his assignment ended. And she was all stocked up in the heartbreak department already.
She took a deep breath, picked up the gun from the floor and set it on the edge of the sink, before taking off the Kevlar vest and chucking it into the corner. After she stripped out of her clothes, she washed them and hung them on the side of the shower glass, underwear included. In this heat, her panties and bra would be dry and back in place in no time.
Alex seemed to be sleeping by the time she was done with her shower and got back to him, wearing nothing but the long T-shirt, her hair wet. The towel had slipped from his forehead. She put it back on, her fingers brushing his skin in the process. He was burning up.
She went back into the bathroom and wet a few more towels. When she’d been little and had a bad fever, her mother used to wrap her entire body in a wet sheet. That had always worked. Clearly, Alex needed more than a piece of cloth on his forehead.
“Take your clothes off.” She sat next to him.
He mumbled something undistinguishable.
She tried to lift his torso, but couldn’t budge him beyond an inch or two. He was way too heavy for her.
“Alex, wake up.”
His eyes fluttered open for a brief second, giving her hope, then closed again. He was completely out.
Fine. She would have to do what she could on her own. Careful of his wounds, she tugged up his T-shirt as far as it would go without him sitting up. She rolled him on his left side and freed one arm, then rolled him on his right side and freed the other. Then finally she could pull the thing over his head.
The shirt out of the way, she moved on to the pants and had an easier time; his legs were not as heavy to lift. She wrapped one wet towel around his broad chest and one on each of his legs, then sat back with nothing more to do but worry.
She did a damned fine job of it, sitting on the sofa behind him, guarding his sleep. But more needed to be guarded than just his sleep. She needed to guard their lives. The terrorists. For the past hour she had forgotten about them. Not very smart. Nicola got up and retrieved his gun from the bathroom. It was up to her now to keep them safe.
She settled back on the sofa in a position from where she could see the door and the windows. Did the gun have a safety feature? Was it on? How would she take it off? All she knew about guns she had learned from the movies. God, she was pitiful. What did she hope to do if the terrorists came?
Snap out of it. She’d do what she had to. First she would have to stay alert so she would know if they were there. Then if she heard or saw anything suspicious, she would have to try to wake Alex. If that didn’t work, she’d aim as best she could and squeeze the trigger. In a best-case scenario, some bullets would come out. Yes, that would definitely be a bonus.
“YOU MAKE YOUR ancestors proud, soldier.” The General leaned back in his chair, enjoying the bit of good news. It wouldn’t be long now.
“Thank you, General.”
A trolley went by outside his window and he waited until the noise settled down. “All is prepared?”
“Yes, General.”
His goal was so close he could almost taste success and the glory that would come with it. “Do whatever you have to. We cannot fail again. Time is running out.”
“Everything is set up, General. This time she will have no escape.”
No, she wouldn’t. He had been right to come to America. This operation was too important for him not to be personally involved. As the old saying went, “If you don’t go into the cave of the tiger, how are you to get its cub?”
Well, he was in the cave, and he would get the cub. And then he would face the tiger.
He closed his cell phone and took another look at the makeshift lab before he walked out. It had been a good day. One of his men had found Nicola. The General nodded to the guard in the hall. Tso had accomplished the impossible. Not that he’d had any doubts. If anyone could pull this off it was Tso, one of the most eminent scientists in China, before word had gotten out that he was an anticommunist.
Everything was ready. He did not revel in the destruction to come, but neither did he fool himself into thinking there was any other way. Something large scale had to be done to get the world’s attention, something despicable enough to make it impossible for the United States not to respond.
His people had tried for decades to rid themselves of tyranny, losing tens of thousands of lives in the process and getting no help from the “civilized” West, not even when masses of students lay dead on Tienanmen Square, massacred in front of the cameras.
Sons of Peace had been named in respect for those young men and women. Tienanmen—the Gate of Heavenly Peace. But the similarities ended there. Peaceful demonstrations didn’t work, as had been amply demonstrated in 1989. The Sons of Peace, ironically, were proponents of war. And if the United States was unwilling to help when it was asked nicely, for fear of risking its lucrative trade relations, then the Sons of Peace were not afraid to force the hand of this mighty nation.
For the freedom of their country, the Sons of Peace were more than willing to sacrifice a few U.S. senators, indeed even themselves.
HIS HEAD FELT GROGGY and he was lying down. Strange. Alex opened his eyes, then closed them against the bright sunlight that poured into the room. He distinctly remembered sitting guard by the window.
He opened his eyes again, just a slit this time. He was definitely on the pullout couch. He lay on his side facing the living room, a bunch of soggy towels on the bed in front of him. Other than his underwear, he was naked. When did that happen? He looked at the arm that was in pain. Freshly bandaged. Couldn’t remember that, either.
Then he became aware of something else utterly unexpected and went still. Nicola was sleeping behind him, her face pressed against his naked back.
One confused emotion chased another in his head as he eased away from her and sat up. She looked exhausted but still beautiful. And dangerous. He took the Makarov from her, unable to resist brushing a few wayward curls from her face.
Had she stayed up all n
ight to take care of him? Why couldn’t he remember anything? The pain hadn’t been that bad. He’d certainly lived through worse. His feet knocked over the answer on the floor—pill bottles. He picked up the culprit of his disoriented state. Algmir. A painkiller or, more specifically, a strong opiate given to soldiers in battle with critical injuries.
She had drugged him.
And in the process left herself defenseless for the entire night. He swore and chucked the bottle across the floor, madder at himself than at her, as he remembered how she’d put the pills into his mouth and told him to swallow. What the hell had he been thinking? He must have been out of it if he hadn’t questioned her.
He stood and looked back at the woman on the bed who had managed to do what no enemy had ever accomplished—rendered him useless for hours in the middle of an operation. Had she realized the kind of danger she had put them in?
She lay on top of the covers in nothing but an oversize T-shirt, looking deceptively innocent. His mouth went dry. Probably from more than the aftereffects of the drugs. They were efficient, that was for sure. He was still pain free, but seemed to have trouble with basic motor skills. He was having the hardest time turning his head from Nicola.
She had taken off her vest.
Two emotions battled inside him for control: anger that she had drugged him, then discarded the only protection she had left; and gut-wrenching lust. The thin T-shirt showed every tempting line of those curves he had spent weeks fantasizing about.
She had legs to die for, buttocks and hips round enough to be inspirational, breasts that nearly made him cry with need. He had as much self-restraint as the next man, but he was rapidly reaching the end of it. God hadn’t made this woman to be resisted. And yet he must. Alex turned on his heels and dragged himself off to the bathroom for a cold shower.
It didn’t help. The second he stepped back into the living room, the stubborn erection he had sought to ease under the cold spray was back. He wasn’t sure it would ever go away. They might have to bury him with it when he died.
Funny how that worked. Even after several hours of sleep, his body felt weak. Except for that one part.
He grabbed the cell phone and went outside to the car. A quick search turned up the cord that fit into the cigarette lighter for recharge. Alex left the barn door open while he ran the motor long enough to at least partially charge the battery. He had meant to do that last night, before he’d gotten drugged into oblivion.
When he went back inside, he sat by the window, not trusting himself near the bed.
He heard her stir, but forced himself not to turn around. The bed creaked as she got out, as did the hardwood floor when she made her way to him.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She hugged him from behind.
NICOLA FELT HIS MUSCLES stiffen and let him go. Maybe he didn’t like her touching him. Although, he had seemed to like her well enough when he had kissed her last night. Twice.
He smelled like soap, his dark hair still wet from the shower. She glanced at his hands and neck. He had bandaged his burns.
“How are you doing?” She went to the kitchen and started breakfast. He needed to eat to replace the blood he had lost.
“Fine. Don’t ever knock me out again.”
“What?”
“The Algmir. You left us exposed.”
Sheesh, he should be thanking her for making him feel better. He had needed rest. “I was handling security.”
He made a rude sound. “You didn’t wake up when I took the gun from you.”
She fixed him with a stare. “Are we or are we not still alive?”
He had nothing to say to that.
She looked through the cabinets. The man needed a decent meal. Something to make him less grumpy. Eggs and bacon and home fries. She opened a can of organic chunky potato soup with bacon, the closest thing they had, and dumped its contents into a pot to warm up on the stove.
He came over to sit at the table, gulped down the soup when it was ready, then ate a full MRE and downed two glasses of water. She cleaned up his mess.
“Thank you.” He reached for her hand as she bustled around to keep busy.
The banked fire in his eyes awakened all her senses at once. She looked away, her gaze settling on the old scars below his elbow. Without thinking, she reached out to trace them with a finger. He didn’t pull away this time.
“Chemical burns,” he said with a matter-of-fact voice.
She waited for him to tell her more, not sure if he would.
“I was working on infiltrating a biochemical weapons factory overseas. Had inside help from one of the scientists forced to work there.”
“What happened?”
“Somehow they caught on to him.” He swallowed. “They asked him about me, and he refused to answer. They shot his wife in front of him.”
“Oh my God.”
“When he still didn’t talk, they shot his son. With guns to his daughter’s head, he finally told them all he knew. It wasn’t much, so they shot the daughter, too, then beheaded him in the town square for treason.”
“Did they catch you?”
“Almost. They set a trap, but I managed to get away with only this.” He pointed to his back, then didn’t say anything more for a while.
“Abu was my friend. I talked him into cooperating. I had authorization to offer him and his family asylum as soon as the operation was over.”
ALEX LOOKED UP and watched as tears filled her eyes. She rubbed them away, but more took their place, their flow unstoppable like soldiers spilling from their bunkers, rushing in each other’s steps to battle.
The only other person he’d talked to about this was Colonel Wilson. Hard to believe the Colonel would trust him with Nicola, come to think of it, considering that the last man he’d worked with and his family were dead. Not exactly the right recommendation for a bodyguard.
But the Colonel did trust him to get the job done. Trouble was, Alex wasn’t sure he trusted himself.
A fat tear rolled down Nicola’s face. It touched him that she’d cry for Abu and his family, people she didn’t even know.
“Oh, Alex. I’m so sorry. It must have been terrible for you.” She wiped the tears with the back of her hand.
She was crying for him? The thought was so unlikely, it took him a heartbeat or two to catch up with it.
She hadn’t cried when people were shooting to kill her, when she’d had to take over the wheel in the middle of a high-speed chase, when her house was burning. But she cried for him.
He pulled her into his arms, and she buried her face against his shirt. He couldn’t remember anyone ever crying for him before, caring enough to cry.
That’s what did him in at the end—not her tantalizing curves or intoxicating allure, but her tears.
He kissed the soft curls on the top of her head, and when she looked up, he kissed away her tears. Then, while he was at it, he kissed her lips too, with military thoroughness.
No vest stood between them this time, and he could not keep his hands off her, exploring her voluptuous beauty, reveling in the full breasts that filled his palms to overflowing. When his thumbs found her nipples, she moaned into his mouth.
He felt much better—the result of having a good meal in his stomach and Nicola in his lap. The day was shaping up well. They were back in the safe house, and, considering last night’s events, they would probably stay here for some time. The thought of extended inactivity didn’t seem to bother him as much as it had in the past. He kissed her for all he was worth. Yeah, he could take a few days of this…
Or more.
No. Not more. He couldn’t do more. He shouldn’t even be doing what he was already doing. But, damn, it felt good. Even if they could go no further. Frustration might kill him, but having his lips on hers and his hands on her body were worth it.
Another minute and he would stop. He was responsible enough not to go too far. He was a trained military man with all kinds of discipline.
Instead Nicola looked into his eyes and said, “I want you so much, it drives me crazy.”
Her words slammed into his chest with enough force to nearly knock him back onto the chair. Oh, hell. Feeling none of his injuries, he lifted her into his arms and walked to the bed.
Unable to take his lips from hers long enough to see what he was doing, he tumbled onto the sheets with her. She kissed him, holding nothing back, and helped him peel off her T-shirt, until her generous breasts spilled into the light for his hungry gaze. He buried his head between them, lost in the feeling of her velvet skin against his cheeks.
He tasted one then the other, going back and forth, a man with a new addiction. She was everything he had thought he would never have. A woman who was willing to accept the half answers he was able to give about his job, who could look at his scars and not turn away repulsed. Smart, beautiful, generous.
He had spent hours on end imagining her like this in his arms, and now that she was here, he had trouble believing it.
He trailed kisses down her belly, caressing her hips and lavishing her belly button. He was determined not to stop until he tasted every maddening curve. A man on a mission, his objective was clear: to make her blood rush as crazy with desire as she made his.
His path unobstructed by underwear, he moved lower and lower, aroused by her moans then satisfied by her sudden silence once he had leisurely sampled everything.
He came up next to her and kissed her swollen lips. Long moments later, he pulled back and tried to memorize her face the way she looked just now, flushed with desire, smiling, ready to give herself to him.
He moved back just enough to remove his clothes, then kissed her again as he positioned himself above her.
