by Alexis Grant
“Neither do I, Sage,” he said in a mercifully quiet tone. “I don’t know how to forget all the missions, all the deaths, and everything I wished I’d told the right people at the right time.”
Sage swallowed hard again and set her coffee down on the floor by her feet. There was an unspoken confession hidden behind Anthony Davis’s words, and just knowing that made her heart ache for him. “Tell me what happened?”
“Not much to tell, other than I could have come back for my brother … could have maybe saved his life, if I’d told the right people when and where they were going to rumble. I didn’t. He and his gang were outgunned and outmanned three to one—but he’d told me not to come back there. Made me promise to keep everything on the low. He said he’d be all right. Until that night, he always was, and I didn’t want to be responsible for snitching to possibly land him in prison. But I had knowledge that could have gone to the authorities … but…”
“But you were a kid,” she said firmly. “I grew up in the hood, too. There was a code. You and I both overcame that early conditioning later.”
“Later was too late, and that code got my brother dead.”
“But you didn’t get him dead.” She took up Anthony’s free hand and squeezed it, all too familiar with the pain he tried to conceal. “Listen to me—you know that if he and his gang were hell-bent on rumbling another gang, it would have only been a matter of time before they settled that beef by having a showdown somewhere else. Bullets were going to fly, some kid in that mix was going to get shot, along with any unlucky passersby. If the cops went in there blazing, your brother still stood a fifty-fifty chance of getting shot and/or going to prison for a very long time.”
Anthony took a deep swig of his coffee and set it down on the coffee table beside him. “True, but I swore to myself from that point forward that I’d always come back for my own … would personally make sure that if I knew anything that could keep someone alive, I’d get it to the right place fast.”
“And I promised that I’d be a part of the solution, and not a part of the problem after everything happened to my family,” she said softly. “I was too afraid, back then, to tell the police what people in the neighborhood were saying … knowing that no one would back me up or protect me.”
“I’ve got your back on this one, Sage.”
“I know,” she murmured. “That’s what scares me.”
She could tell from the troubled look in his eyes, even sitting in the dark, that he thought she was afraid of him. That wasn’t it at all.
“I know I hit you, and vets sometime have a bad rep … but…”
She placed a finger against his lips. “Don’t. I’m not afraid of you attacking me, having a flashback, or anything like that. I know you’re not some dude with a jacked-up psychological profile.” She stared at him and then drew back from him and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I don’t know what’s happening here between us or why. All I know is that I have a role to play and from the moment I met you, for some really bizarre reason, I can’t go back in and fake being with some man that I despise—and that’s dangerous. That’s what scares me.”
“I don’t know what’s happening either, Sage, but I want to find out. Technically, I’m not even supposed to be here,” he said quietly. “this is so off-mission that if I had to stand in front of a military tribunal to explain my actions, I couldn’t. My only defense would be, I took one look at you and couldn’t leave you in there with those animals. I know what can happen to a hostage. I can’t let you become one.”
“Don’t do this, Captain,” she whispered and then hugged herself tighter. “I haven’t allowed myself to go deep into anything real in a very long time, and what I’m feeling right now is way more terrifying than facing Salazar.”
“The fact that I’m sitting here without a plausible explanation for being here scares me, too. The mission is front of mind, don’t get me wrong. I know what we’ve both gotta do. But you’re also right up there sharing that same space and I’ve never had that happen to me.”
She stood up quickly, but he rose from the sofa slowly. She was only inches away from him now; the heat from his body enveloped her. It was as though an internal master switch had been thrown to light up every nerve ending within her. Suddenly her skin felt so overly sensitive it ached. Standing in the wake of his intense heat, she felt herself moisten as though her body was trying to put our unseen flames. True hunger crept between her thighs, licking at her swollen, hot flesh. Just as suddenly her nipples tightened, sending pinpoints of stinging need to raise gooseflesh on her arms.
Reason warred with primal instinct. She knew the right thing to do was to step away from this man. Never in her life had anyone had this kind of inexplicable effect on her. Not this fast. Not this intense. She didn’t know him, and this was too crazy to consider. But her body was betraying her badly, even if she couldn’t fathom why. More damning was the fact that he looked just as bewildered and out of control as she probably did, appearing as though this unnamed thing had blindsided him, too. That silent confession that he offered by his intense gaze, his slightly flaring nostrils each time he took what seemed like a deliberately slowed breath, only raised the stakes of the chemical chain reaction.
“We have to stay focused on the mission … and then if we live, we’ll see what happens.” She bit her bottom lip, hesitating. “But right now you should probably leave.”
“Is that what you want?” He waited and stared at her, his gaze making her stomach do flip-flops.
“No,” she said just above a whisper. “But that’s probably what should happen.”
“Yeah … That is probably what should happen,” he repeated in a deep, sensual rumble.
But neither of them moved as he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her gently, allowing her to taste black coffee and sugar and freedom and hope. The clean, uncomplicated scent of Ivory soap filled her nose, that and his wonderful male signature blended into it. She deepened the kiss and stepped into his warmth, feeling a pair of strong arms slowly enfold her to block out the cruel, ugly world.
In that fragile moment a promise was cast. He’d come back for her, to serve and protect. Tears of relief spilled down her cheeks. Never in her life had anyone made her feel safe. That had been the catalyst, the trigger that flipped the master switch inside her. No one had ever stepped into that dangerous void to make her feel like he could handle come what may.
That dark place in her soul where hope was a dying light was an amazingly complex place that no average man could occupy. Captain Anthony Davis stepped into the breach with authority. Her intellectual mind didn’t have to know him; she felt this man at the cellular level.
His presence radiated through her being as an honest street warrior, an assassin with swagger, an honorable man with blood on his hands—one versed in dealing death, but who would never hurt an innocent … someone who could give her absolution for all her crimes against her own body, mind, and spirit, understanding why she did what she did and still finding something redeeming within her. A man who could still see some innocence left in her battered heart.
This man knew what she did for a living, knew what she did for a cause greater than herself … and yet he’d come back for her and had wrapped her in his arms. That shit was so sexy she could barely catch her breath. To clearly be an alpha female and to be able, for once, to look into the eyes of a true alpha male—not a pretender, not a wannabe alpha, but one so secure that he didn’t even have to raise his voice or do stupid power plays … one who didn’t blink or stutter about what he wanted, one who plainly made it clear that he wanted more than her body, wanted the whole package … and wasn’t afraid of that, either … well, just damn …
She held on to him tightly. No man that she’d been with had ever known the full extent of her job or what she was capable of; not one of them could deal with her in total. Those who did know, the men she’d worked with all her career, might have wanted her physically, but not as the who
le package deal. To them she was just for fun, and since she wasn’t playing games with her body or heart, she’d given them neither. Captain Anthony Davis was dangerous in that regard, because he was well within the strike zone of being able to claim both.
This man felt different than all the others before, and if her life depended on it, she couldn’t have explained why. Maybe it was a knowing that was loosely connected to the fact that he’d fought her in hand-to-hand combat and had still returned. The way he looked at her told her without words that to him, she wasn’t a freak or a conquest or a potential lay on the job; he’d come back to put himself between her and sure harm.
Sage broke their kiss and buried her face against his shoulder. To her surprise, he petted her back and then stroked her hair.
“It’s going to be all right, baby,” he murmured, which only made the tears come in earnest.
No man had ever told her it was going to be all right in a way that made her believe it. But somehow the confidence in his tone, and having seen what he did for a living, made her know she could bank on whatever this man said.
“Oh, God, what have I gotten myself into?” She took in a choked breath and allowed her fingers to splay across his back. “I can’t even look at myself in the mirror sometimes—and even if I kill that bastard, I don’t know if that’ll make a difference … it won’t matter. My Nana was right. There’s a line and damn you, Anthony Davis, for making me find it.”
A pair of rough, warm hands sought her face and lifted it as the most open gaze met hers.
“Sage … let me be your mirror for a little while then, because all I see is a beautiful woman, one with a beautiful heart, who’s capable and fearless, and decent and good. In the hospital, I saw it in your eyes—your heart and the toll this was taking on you. Don’t ask me how, but I knew you were near this point … that’s another reason why I came back. I promise you, I’ll never leave you in there alone, all right? We’ll get this done. We’ll get this over. And no matter what happens, nothing you had to do was in vain. You may never know how many lives you’ve saved by what you did. If nobody else knows that, I do … but even more important than that, you have to know it and believe it. Understood?”
She nodded and held onto his thick wrists, needing to feel tangible evidence of his solid presence. He wasn’t a dream, wasn’t a mirage. He was real and was someone she had to care about.
“I don’t let people in because I can’t bear it if they die,” she whispered, saying the truth out loud for the very first time. “And when it came to men in my life, I think I only let in jerks, so if they burned me, I could live with the loss … the disappointment wasn’t that great if they walked out of my life—which they all eventually did. Sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy.” She let out a sad sigh and tried to smile. “I told you, I’m really screwed up as a person.”
“I let in one person that I trusted and she burned me with my boy … he was stateside, I was deployed. Let’s just say it was a double violation. After that, I vowed I’d never go there again and I left a trail of very inconsequential hookups in my wake. I closed people out, too. So we both have a checkered past, and what?”
His thumbs caressed the edges of her jaw and he brushed a kiss against the cheekbone that he’d grazed. “We all have our ways to avoid pain, Sage. That doesn’t make you a bad person, just human. Then something unexpected happened. I met you. The timing really sucks. But it is what it is. The one thing this profession should have taught us both is, life is short and tomorrow’s not promised. Like I said, I’m not about holding back vital intel from where it needs to be communicated—and you need to know everything I’m saying to you tonight.”
She slid her hands off his wrists to place them lightly against his stone-cut chest. The gentle tremor that ran through his fingertips, coupled with the warmth of his palms, made her face feel like it would literally melt in his hands.
“This isn’t just physical attraction.”
He shook his head. “No. That wouldn’t be scary at all.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“That wouldn’t have made me fly from New Orleans to be here under circumstances that could compromise our careers, get us both killed, and possibly jeopardize the mission.”
She shook her head. “And if it was just that … I wouldn’t be standing here crying, whispering, and basically freaking out.”
“I should probably go,” he murmured as the tremor in his hands seemed to wash through his body.
“Is that what you want?” she asked, stepping in closer to allow their bodies to touch.
His stomach tightened brick by glorious brick. “No,” he replied in a hoarse whisper and then took her mouth again, but harder this time. “But that’s probably what should happen,” he murmured into her mouth as soon as their kiss broke. “God help me, that’s probably what should happen.”
CHAPTER 8
His body ignited as she pressed and writhed against him. Everything female about her imploded in his groin. Hard shaft contractions that were totally beyond his control made his hands tremble as they followed the lush contours of her curves until her breath hitched.
A soft, coffee-laced tongue swept his in a moonlit erotic dance. The scent of a woman, this woman, drilled down past all reason. Her perfume was now imprinted within the primal part of his brain—pure reflex was the only response to it … just like her butter soft skin caused delirium. Silken tresses spilled into his hands as he ever so gently cradled her skull, rough pelvic friction a fabric-induced serenade.
Every touch he landed against her skin was done with reverence, an apology for the earlier combat when he didn’t know who she was. He wanted her to know that would never happen again under any circumstances. She had to know that he understood the phrase “make love not war” when it came to the female form.
The Creator must have heard his prayers and sent him an angel—someone to restore his battered faith that there was something still worth fighting for, someone in this world beyond his band of brothers who would care or think that he made a difference. Yet, from the way her smooth hands caressed his back and her long, slender fingers threaded through his hair, he could tell she was asking him for forgiveness when all he could do was beg for hers.
How could she know what he couldn’t put into words himself? He knew her fatigue, the kind of battle weariness that clawed at one’s bones and gristle. It was more than exhaustion, it was the wearing away of the human spirit after witnessing too much gore and violence, only to have that made a mockery by war-profiteering fat cats and politicians, none of whom would know patriotism if it jumped up and bit them.
He and Sage had the same questions. They were both fighting for justice in an unjust world. And both of them were tired and had clearly recognized that in each other’s eyes.
Endless battle bred uncommon despair, just as seeing injustice at home and not only abroad bred dangerous questions like, what are we fighting for? She’d no doubt seen abuses in the criminal justice system like he’d seen abuses in the military. It had made him start to wonder who the true enemy was and why the politicians weren’t declaring war and spilling the blood of their sons and daughters, too.
As he kissed Sage deeply, he was sure she’d asked herself why justice only seemed to work for the wealthy and why so many kids from the hood seemed to get the harshest sentence. Sage Wagner was cut from the same bolt of cloth that he was sheared from—the old neighborhoods with common sense and a solid moral compass as a guide.
Rhetoric be damned, he needed a woman who understood, whose touch communicated that she did. Inside he’d been trying to figure out what he was doing in the service—why the fat cats’ stocks were rising on the Dow and NASDAQ while their buddies were making millions in military contracts, but those with their asses on the line, who’d literally bled for the American dream, were trying to stave off foreclosures?
He kissed Sage harder, seeking answers and redemption in her mouth, washing his mind and hands clean aga
inst the soft skin of her back and the wondrous swell of her divinely perfect ass.
Each hard exhale and inhale she caused was a silent pardon, a prayer chant to just make him forget so he could go forth and do his job. But instead of exonerating him, she filled his mouth with a soft moan and made him swallow it, then echo it back. She would give as good as she got—a pardon for a pardon, a mercy for a mercy, a blackout for a blackout … oh … God … yes …
Didn’t she understand that he’d been searching for her all his life—a woman to whom he didn’t have to explain what being a soldier meant? The knowing meant freedom; that she still wanted him after comprehending was sexy as all hell.
Not many women, he suspected, and certainly none he’d ever met, knew what it really meant to take a life and then live with that. None he’d ever slept with could imagine what it felt like to day after day, year after year, hunt an enemy that multiplied like cockroaches no matter what you used against them. And how did a man who’d seen too much and lived to tell about it, bring all that home to the suburbs and shopping malls and expect to be normal?
Sage Wagner didn’t expect him to be civilian normal. With her, he didn’t have to pretend to fit in. That was the true promise of freedom she offered. In her arms were truth, justice, and the American way. She was a warrior and knew down to her marrow what he was. They didn’t have to talk about it or analyze it; they just had to live it … and right now he wanted her so badly that it was almost impossible to breathe.
With that intimate knowledge, her hands sought his skin to soak up the pain. Her gentle touch anointed his body with healing through pleasure. She was the first responder to his tortured soul. And as his hands slid up her torso beneath her blouse, she released a low, sexy gasp that let him know that he was hers as well.
