by S. M. Butler
“And if they split up at the fork?” Claire asked.
“They’ll be closer, but we only have to contend with one or two trucks full of angry rebels, not three.” Irish glanced in her direction. The moonlight bathed Claire’s face in pale blue light. His angel.
“Sounds like a gamble any way you look at it,” she said.
He dragged his gaze back to the road ahead, shooting a glance in the rearview mirror through the shattered back window. “Maybe, but it’s what we have to work with, unless you prefer to ditch the vehicle and go on foot?”
Shaking her head, she held up her hands, her teeth flashing in a grin. “No, thank you. I’ll take my chances on wheels.”
“Good, because we have a tail again.” Irish focused on the road ahead.
Claire turned in her seat, watching the road behind them. “Only one set of headlights.”
“Good.”
“Do you think they can see us?”
“With the moon so bright, they might. But then they’d have to turn off their headlights and let their eyes adjust to the moonlight. We might have the edge.”
“They have the faster vehicle,” Claire said, her voice low, intense.
Another fork in the road presented itself. This time, the road to the left was the one less traveled. It appeared to be more of a washed-out track than an actual road. Slowing enough to enter the trail without stirring up too much dust, Irish eased onto the track and around a curve, praying the other rebel’s vehicle was far enough behind that the haze of dust would settle before they reached the fork.
“If we head far enough west, we will cross into Ethiopia,” Claire said. “In Samada, we were only about twenty miles east of the border crossing.”
“From what we learned about Umar, he doesn’t care about borders. He and his men go where they want to go, kill whomever they want to kill.”
Claire stared at the road behind them. “That’s not reassuring.”
“All the more reason to lose our tail for good.” The Land Rover bumped along the trail, moving slowly over the rutted road.
Fifteen minutes passed, and no headlights appeared behind them.
“I don’t see any lights,” Claire said. “Think we lost them?”
“I hope so.” Irish settled into as steady a pace as he could maintain on the ruined road. “We’ll keep going until we run out of road, or get too sleepy to keep going.”
“Where are we aiming for?”
“Djibouti, where I can meet up with my team. I hope they made it back.” If not, he’d be right back in Somalia looking for them in a recovery operation.
“Can your team help find Dr. Jamo?”
“I’ll work with my team leader to make that happen.”
“If you can’t help,” Claire said, “I’ll find someone who can.”
Irish shot a glance her way. If the hard set of her jaw was any indication of her determination, he’d have to do a lot of fancy talking to convince her otherwise, or get buy-in from his SEAL team to mount a rescue operation for the kidnapped Somali doctor.
Claire must have fallen asleep. A big bump slammed her head against the window, waking her.
“Sorry. I didn’t see that one. Must be getting tired.”
She looked through the window but saw only scrub brush. “You should let me drive for a while.”
“No, I think it’s safe to say we lost them for the time being. It’s getting close to daylight. If I’m not mistaken, we’re back in Somalia on one of the less-traveled roads. We should find a place to hide and sleep for a couple hours during the daylight and then push north to the border of Djibouti.”
“I take it you don’t have a passport with you.”
Irish grinned. “Not something SEALs carry on a mission.”
“I have mine, if we need it. But how will we make it past the checkpoints, if you don’t have yours?”
“We won’t need them if we stay off the main roads and travel mostly at night. Once we near the border, you can drop me off. I’ll cross on foot.”
She nodded, scanning the road ahead for any possibilities of hiding places as the path wound through the hills. The moon had made its way into the western sky, sinking low and giving little light to navigate by.
Irish still drove with the headlights off to keep from being spotted by rebels or soldiers at checkpoints. The farther north they moved, the drier the terrain became and the more rugged. If they didn’t find a place to hide the Land Rover soon, daylight would be upon them, and they’d be fair game for anything from truckloads of rebels to Somali military.
As they passed through a narrow pass between hills, Claire spotted a copse of low trees and bushes a hundred yards off the road. The foliage was of sufficient size to conceal the Land Rover. She pointed. “Do you see that?”
Irish nodded, drove the Land Rover off the road and eased it into the brush. Once the back end of the vehicle was completely surrounded by trees and bushes, he turned off the engine.
“Might as well get comfortable. We’ll sleep here until the temp gets too hot. Then we’ll take our chances on the road. If we can get close enough to one of the larger cities, we can blend in with the traffic.” Irish slipped down out of the vehicle and rounded to the back where he opened the rear door.
Claire climbed out of the passenger side, stretched and walked to the rear of the SUV.
Irish pointed at the interior floorboard. “There’s enough room for you to lie down and get some real rest back here.”
The rear seats of the vehicle had been removed long ago to make room for cargo, which had suited Claire just fine for her trip into the remote regions of Somalia. Though she’d fallen asleep on the journey, she hadn’t slept for more than ten minutes at a time.
Irish, on the other hand, had suffered a concussion and he’d yet to sleep as well. He’d done all the driving over rough terrain and had to be exhausted.
Claire shook her head. “You take the first shift of sleep. I’ll stand guard. You’ve been injured.”
Irish braced his hands on his hips. “You need to sleep, as well. Look, we can both lie down. At least we’ll be rested when we have to get going later.”
Claire stared at the interior and then at Irish.
He grinned. “I promise not to touch you unless you ask. Hell, I can sleep on the ground if that will make you feel safer.”
“No, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure we can share the space. Although it will be tight.” She climbed up into the back of the vehicle and reached for her doctor bag. “I have a couple of bottles of water and some granola bars.” She handed him a bottle and a bar. “It’s not much, but enough to keep up our energy for a little longer.” The smile he gave her warmed her insides.
“You’re amazing.” Irish accepted her offering.
She snorted softly. “Not as though it was a fine dining experience.”
“When you’re dry and hungry, they’re heaven.” He opened the bottle and downed a quarter of the liquid before he tipped it up. “We need to ration in case we have to hike our way out of Somalia.”
Nodding, she drank from her bottle. “How far do you think we are from the Djibouti border?”
“I’m betting about five to six hours.”
“Doesn’t sound like much.”
“It is when you have to drive in lights-out conditions and through potentially hostile situations.” He rubbed a hand on his neck.
“Once we get to the more urban areas, shouldn’t we be all right?”
“As long as Umar’s al-Shabaab rebels aren’t controlling the checkpoints and border crossings.”
“Does he have that kind of influence?”
“We might find out sooner than we’d like.” He ate half the bar and folded the wrapper around it.
Claire followed suit and stored the bottles and remaining granola bars in her bag. Then she stretched out on the hard floor of the Land Rover and tried to get comfortable. “I think the ground might actually be softer.”
“C
ome here.” Irish laid back and pulled her into the crook of his arm. “I’ve been known to make a great pillow.”
She stiffened at first, afraid to relax with him so close. Her pulse jumped with each breath he took. “One of your many girlfriends told you that?” she quipped, trying to ease the tension apparently only she felt.
He chuckled. “At least half a dozen of them.”
The sound of his voice rumbled against her ear. With nowhere else to put her hand, she rested it on his chest, the hard muscles surprisingly reassuring at her fingertips.
His hold tightened around her, bringing her body against his. “Better?”
“Umm.” Better than she could have imagined. He smelled of dust, male musk and the outdoors, a purely masculine scent that set her insides into turmoil. She’d had lovers in college, but none that lasted. During her internal medicine residency at Johns Hopkins, she’d had an affair with one of the other interns.
“You’re still so tense. Do I make you nervous?” His other hand reached out to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. “I promise, I don’t bite.” Then he kissed her forehead.
Claire’s heart rate rocketed. “Why did you do that?”
“You still seemed scared, and well…I’ve been wanting to do that since the last time I kissed you.”
“And you promised you wouldn’t do it again.”
“I lied.” He kissed her forehead again. “So sue me.”
His warm breath and the words spoken in a low, bone-melting whisper, made Claire’s nervous tension dissolve to be replaced by an entirely different kind of tension seeping through her system with every beat of her heart.
Her fingers slid across his shirt. She wanted them to slide across his skin.
“Ach, lass, you’ll be wearin’ a hole in me shirt before ya know it,” he said with his delightful, over-exaggerated Irish accent. Lifting her hand, he pressed his lips to her fingers and laid her hand across his raspy chin. Then he shucked his shirt, dragging it over his shoulders and off his body.
Claire cupped his cheek, loving the rough feel of his two-day-old beard. She reached up and ran her fingers over his closely cropped hair. “How’s your head today?”
“Never clearer,” he said, his hands releasing the last button on her shirt.
Feeling bolder by the minute, the continued contact with his body heating her core, she ran her hand down his face, tracing his lips and the hard line of his chin. Moving lower, she skimmed his muscled neck and traced his collarbone, finally arriving at the broad expanse of his naked chest. She’s seen it before when she’d checked him for injuries. But this time, he was awake, he wasn’t her patient, and he was so very conscious and participating in her exploration.
Irish’s finger curled beneath her chin and lifted, urging her gaze to meet his. “I didn’t suggest we rest here to take advantage of a pretty lady.”
“Oh? I thought that was your plan all along. Blow up an al-Shabaab leader, rescue a lady doctor and ravage her on the run from an angry terrorist. Does that scenario work for you…”
He bent and captured her words before she could finish her nervous jabber. The kiss took her breath away, making her forget they were in the back of an SUV, in danger of discovery and ultimately death.
Claire’s entire focus was on the man holding her, possessing her lips and cradling her against his body in such a way that made her want more than a kiss, more than to feel his chest beneath her hand. She reached lower, skimming the hardened plains of his abdomen, crossing to the waistband of his black trousers, held securely in place by an equally black belt.
She fumbled with the buckle until, once again, he brushed aside her fingers.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“Aren’t you?” Claire glanced up at him in the moonlight edging through the side window, suddenly unsure of his intentions and her own ability to inspire passion.
“Darlin’, I’ve wanted to do this since I laid eyes on my angel.” He slipped his arm from beneath her neck and came up on his elbow. “I’ve never wanted someone as badly.”
“Even if it’s in a foreign country in the back of an SUV? After being injured?” her voice faded at the intensity in his eyes.
“Yes. Even in the back of an SUV, like teenagers on their first date.”
Tingles of excitement spread throughout her body. Irish wanted her. A surge of power emboldened Claire to gently cup the back of his neck and drag his mouth down to hers.
He claimed her, his tongue pushed past her lips, slipped between her teeth and caressed hers in a long, slow glide. He tasted of granola and kissed like nobody’s business.
Claire curled into him, her leg sliding along his calf, and up his thigh. She couldn’t get close enough, and the clothes between them frustrated her.
When he finally came up for air, he trailed feather-soft kisses along her chin to her earlobe and down to the crazily beating pulse at the base of her neck. As his lips left her skin, Irish pulled her to a sitting position, snagged the opening of her shirt, and dragged it off her shoulders and arms, tossing it over the seat. Then he circled his hands behind her and unclipped her bra, sliding the straps slowly over her shoulders and down her arms, letting her breasts spill out.
For a moment, he sat back and stared, and then reached out to touch the peaked nipples. “You’re beautiful.”
She should have been shy, covering her breasts with her arms, but the hungry look in Irish’s eyes only spurred Claire to be more brazen. Her fingers found the button on her trousers and flipped it free.
Before she could unzip them, Irish took over, sliding down the zipper, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric into her panties to cover her sex.
Claire closed her eyes, her breathing coming in short, ragged gulps. She wanted him to feel the warmth and wetness he inspired. More than that, she wanted to be naked with him. She shoved the trousers over her hips and, with his help, pulled them off her legs. The cool metal bed of the vehicle felt good against her burning skin. Then she reached for the button on his pants. With surgical accuracy, she flipped open the button and dragged down his zipper. His cock surged free, filling her hand, long, hard and thick.
“Oh, darlin’, I’m trying to take it slow, but you’re making me crazy.”
“Then don’t hold back.” Her fingers curled around him and squeezed, pulling him toward her. “I’m as hot for you as you are for me.” Shocked by the words coming out of her own mouth, she couldn’t take them back and didn’t want to. She’d started down this path and couldn’t wait to get to the finish line.
“You don’t know how badly I want you.”
She chuckled, feeling more confident and secure in her desirability. “I have an idea.”
“I don’t have protection. It’s not something I carry on an operation.”
Stilling her movements, she frowned. “Are you clean?”
“No STDs.”
“I’m on the pill, and they’re in my satchel.” She tilted her head. “Any more objections?”
“No.” Irish dropped down to capture one of her breasts between his lips and sucked it into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the nipple and nibbled on the tightening bud. Then he shifted to her other breast and performed the same ministrations. His fingers trailed across her ribs, moving south to the triangle of hair over her mons. Slipping a finger between her folds, he stroked that tiny strip of flesh packed with enough nerve endings to shoot fiery sensations throughout her body.
Claire raised her hips, wanting more. Her hand convulsed around his cock, and she dragged him closer.
“Not yet,” he whispered, his finger continuing to stroke her there. He dipped into the dampness of her channel and traced a line of the thick lubricant up to her clit, swirling around the nubbin.
An instant later, she launched over the edge in a burst of fireworks shooting from her core outward to the very tips of her fingers and toes.
Irish settled between her legs, pressing the thick head of
his staff against her moist opening, easing in a little at a time.
Impatient to have it all, Claire wrapped her legs around his waist, dug her heels into his ass and took him into her.
He thrust inside, filling her, stretching her deliciously.
She dropped her heels to the metal bed of the SUV and pushed up, taking all of him.
Settling into a rhythm, he moved in and out of her body, the friction sending her back up the incline to her second orgasm of the early morning.
He thrust one last time, burying himself deep inside her, his cock throbbing against the walls of her channel.
To hold him there, she dug her fingers into his buttocks until the intensity of their union eased.
Then he collapsed on the floor of the SUV beside her, rolling her into his arms, nuzzling her neck with his lips. “That was insane,” he said.
She smiled, lying back on a hard metal floor, not caring that it dug into her backside. “It was, wasn’t it?” Never had she felt as beautifully replete as she did at that moment. Surrounded by the desert hills of Somalia, with the sun cresting over the horizon and cradled in the arms of a handsome, virile man, Claire could forget for a moment they were in danger and being hunted by al-Shabaab fighters.
Chapter Five
‡
Irish slept for a few hours with Claire nestled against his side, her body warm, her curves fitting perfectly with his harder plains. He would have lain there all day had the sun not become too hot. They’d have to get on the move or be cooked inside the Land Rover.
Pressing a light kiss to Claire’s forehead, Irish woke the pretty doctor. “Hey, beautiful.”
She blinked several times and then stared up at him with those blue-gray eyes. “Morning already?”
“Halfway through the day and it’s going to be a hot one.” He slapped her bare ass and squeezed it. “As much as I’d like a repeat performance, we’d better get moving.”
“Umm. I want a rain check on the repeat performance.” She sat up and pushed her long, straight blond hair out of her face, her breasts bobbing with the movement.
