by Cherry Adair
The small boat plunged into a trough, leaving his breath at the peak of the wave for several seconds. The percussion of the explosions was enough to turn him deaf for several minutes as the blood pulsed in his ears, and his breath returned. For the first time in his ten-year career with T-FLAC, Grayson felt heart-pounding fear. Not for himself, for Hannah. He’d take another bullet, suck up the pain and trauma of being tortured in a hellhole, rather than put her in the path of…this.
Sometimes he hated his fucking job.
Tonight was one of those times.
They were impossibly far from land. . .
Grayson held most of his weight off her using his elbows, but covered as much of her as he could with his body. Grunting she tried to wiggle free. There’d been a time when this position would have her wrapping her long legs around his hips, when the hands shoving at him, would instead curl around his shoulders. When she would have reached up, pulled his head down to close the small gap between their mouths, and kissed him until neither could breathe. There’d been a time.
“Squashing-“ she panted, bucking her hips, eyes a little manic in the dim light as she started to get panicky. He knew she had a tendency to claustrophobia in confined spaces, but there were no other options right now.
Easing his chest off hers by another inch, Gray stroked the hair off her sweaty forehead. “Hang on,” he told her, keeping his voice calm and even, not easy bouncing around as if they were on a fun ride at the carnival. “It’ll take a while to get clear. This tub wasn’t built for speed.”
Murmuring acceptance, she closed her eyes and lay still, but he felt the tension ripple through her body and felt the hard knocking of her heartbeat, flush against his chest. Brushing a light kiss to her temple, he murmured, “This used to be your second favorite position, remember?”
“No.”
He smiled into her hair. “You’d make me flip over, then drive me insane kissing your way down my chest, your hands-“ would cup his balls, and make his body arch into those small, cool, fingers as she tormented him with her soft lips, and hot avid mouth.
“To say that bringing that up, here and now, is inappropriate is an understatement, Grayson. Just shut the hell up until this is over. I can only deal with one annoyance at a freaking time.”
But it got her mind off the very real danger they were in. The crashes, bangs and blunt force projectiles sounded as if they were in a war zone. Every loud noise made Hannah flinch, although he knew she tried not to by the way her body stiffened each time. Holding herself rigid under him, she was breathing hard, and her eyes were all pupil.
He combed gentle fingers through the hair at her nape. Her erogenous zone, hopefully she’d be distracted. “You’d skim your lips down my belly, remember Tink? Jesus. I was turned on by the cool strands of your hair trailing down my chest, and the anticipation of your hot, avid mouth closing around my dick.” Every tactile memory was carved in his brain and indelibly imprinted in his synapses.
“Can’t hear you- “ A bright orange flare, another furnace blast of heat, accompanied another blast. The small boat gyrated, rising at a perilous angle up another peak. “Holy crap! How long is this going to go on?”
“Till it’s over.” Tightening his grip on her as the boat seemed to levitate, hang in space for a few long seconds, then with the jarring impact of a bag of cement flung from a great height, they hit a trough. The force rattled his bones as Gray buried his face beside hers to protect her from the worst of it.
Even inside the small wheelhouse, protected by the walls and windows, the blast of heat on his exposed face, throat and hands was intense. He and his men were protected from the worst of it by their LockOut, but Hannah, in her jeans and thin cotton shirt was not. He was all that was between her and the incredible heat from the blast.
Projectiles from the explosion crashed onto the deck of their boat. His team, on board with them communicated through his comm as they attempted to stay clear, hang on, and put out multiple fires.
The trawler shimmied and rocked, indicating the massive size of the blast. Clearly the tangos hadn’t wanted anything to remain. Whoever had set the explosives knew what they were doing. The destruction was massive, total and quick. Heavy chunks of debris struck with thuds, cracks and clangs against their boat.
The hellaciously loud crashes and thuds of shit hitting the deck and wheelhouse petered out gradually, until there was nothing more than the throb of the engines and the distant splashing as debris hit the water out of range. The rank chemical stink of burning rubber, oil, wood and ship parts made his eyes burn.
After what seemed like a lifetime, but was actually only about ten minutes, Grayson lifted his head.
“Is it over now?” Hannah shouted over the noise.
He flinched as something hard slammed into his shoulder, bracing so the impact didn’t transfer to her. “We’ll be out of range soon. Stay put.” Not that he was giving her any choice. He wasn’t budging until he had the all clear.
Through the shattered windows of the wheelhouse, he saw his men running through the smoke on deck, putting out the fires caused by flying, flaming debris. Hannah’s safety was his top priority, but so were his men. He needed to know if they’d all made it off the yacht.
His comm had fallen free, Grayson found it by feeling around near Hannah’s head, then inserted it back in his ear. Her pale face was a whitish blur in the darkness, then flushed gold with each fiery flare.
Vision fuzzy, ears ringing, he checked his men. “Alpha One. Bravo, what’s the ETA on our ride?”
“Bravo One. Forty-seven minutes. They’ll arrive fueled and ready to go wheels up on your word. We’re two clicks from hangar with our packages. One damaged.” With a fifteen minute head, start Bravo team was almost there. Esmeraldas, the major seaport of northwestern Ecuador, lay on the Pacific coast. The derelict airfield they’d commandeered, was close enough to the docks for convenience, and distanced enough to make their coming and goings relatively unremarkable. The jet, fueling elsewhere, ensured a fast exit.
“Clear,” Salinas spoke loudly through Gray’s earpiece as he rose from his crouch beside the wheel.
Grayson bet there’d be nary a stick in the water to show the luxury ship had ever been there when it was over. Perhaps just an oil slick, but he guessed that would probably incinerate as well.
Helping Hannah to her feet, he kept a tight grip on her hand as he edged her back down onto the narrow wood seat. Sitting beside her he maintained a steadying hold, both hands bracing her shoulders as the ship rocked.
Scanning her face, Gray hoped to hell that dark shadow on her cheekbone was dirt and not a bruise. He’d always wanted to protect her because of how deceptively fragile she appeared. But he knew she was anything but. People underestimated her grit and stubbornness because she looked ethereal. Little did they know she had steel for a backbone, and carried the troubles of her family and his on her slender shoulders. She always had.
Hannah steadily met his gaze, the blue of her eyes lost in pupil, flames from the burning ship, shooting into the night sky behind him reflected in the dark pinpoints. He didn’t miss the tremble in her white-knuckled fingers, clenched in her lap.
Wrapping her hands around his wrists, when he grabbed her shoulders to steady her, her nails dug into his skin as the fishing boat continued to rock unevenly, slewing sideways.
“How can you be so calm? It’s like being inside Dante’s Inferno.”
He braced his feet. “Having you here, puts a whole different spin on it,” he said dryly, scanning her from head to toe to assure himself she wasn’t hurt.
Running his thumbs over her collarbone as he held her, he felt the rapid-fire beat of her pulse in her neck. She closed her eyes for a moment as he held onto her. His own heart beat triple time. If he hadn’t moved fast enough to get her off the ship, if anything had happened…Gray’s blood chilled. She shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be any-fucking-where near here. His brother had a lot to answer for. A lot.
As much as he’d like to forget the shitstorm going on around them, when he deemed the explosive part of the fireworks over, Gray eventually dropped his hands, instantly missing the touch of her fingers on his wrists.
“Okay?”
She nodded, her tangled hair covering her cheek. Shoving it aside with fingers that still trembled, she lifted her chin. “I’d rather be sitting in the back row of the movie theatre eating popcorn, than inside this live action, I can tell you that! You really are Jason Bourne.”
“Nothing as glamorous.” He stroked his thumb lightly over the smudge on her cheek. Dirt, thank God. “Black ops. No one was supposed to know.”
“Even your fiancé?” Her tone was even, but pain flashed in her eyes. “If we’d married, would you have kept disappearing, not telling me where you were, or if you were alive? Would I ever have known if you’d died protecting the world?”
“I would’ve told you—eventually.”
“We wouldn’t know if you were dead or alive. How can you live with doing that to the people who love you? I hate secrets. They’re bad for the one in the dark, and bad for the one holding them. People who keep secrets tend to be depressed, stressed and isolated. Any of that sound familiar?”
“Don’t shrink me. Let’s put this conversation off for now.” He glanced over at Salinas to see if he was taking it all in.
Didn’t appear to be.
“That means never. Got it,” she said tightly, following his gaze. “Back to work?”
“In a minute…” He touched the rapid pulse at the base of her throat because he couldn’t—not. A few more minutes weren’t going to change the course of history. Her skin, cool, a little clammy with nerves, was still as soft as the petal of a rose. He wanted to inhale her and drench himself in her sweetness.
She went through a series of hacking coughs. All he could do was stroke her back until it subsided, then wipe the tears off her cheeks with both thumbs.
She gave him a helpless, frustrated look, then pushed his hands away. “Don’t baby me. I’m scared, confused, and will probably burst into tears at any second. Give me a second to get my spine back.”
He kept his hands to himself with sheer willpower. “Nah. My Tink has a spine of steel.”
She sighed. “If only.”
The smell of the days catch was still present, though mostly masked by the strong stench of burning wood, fiberglass, and oil. Thick black smoke hung low over the dark water, drifting to them on the wind, making their eyes water, and catching roughly in their throats. The oily fumes clogged his throat, and made Hannah cough again.
“Targets secure?” Eyes on her, he spoke into the comm. Using the comm was more effective than waiting for everyone’s hearing to return to normal. The sea settled down as the trawler distanced itself from the scene. Lessening the blast of heat, their movement carried them away from the worst of the smoke and debris.
“Yeah. Two boats headed in. We had a few casualties,” LeRoy Salinas, piloting the boat, used his comm, despite standing less than ten feet away. “Nothing anyone cried about,” his voice was dry.
CHAPTER EIGHT - RICOCHET
“Which boat has my brother?”
“He was with Alverez on the first one in,” one of his men out on deck responded. “Saw them on deck just before we left.”
Good. Gray wasn’t done with his brother—not by a long shot.
Hannah turned on the bench seat to look at the flames shooting up into the blackness of the sky and reflecting orange off the low hanging clouds. “My God.” She shuddered. “It’s a miracle we got away in time.”
Pulling her back against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her waist, curving his fingers into the belt loop of her jeans. She resisted for a moment, then let out a frustrated breath and leaned her head into his shoulder. Together they watched the flames in the distance. A bonfire against the blackness of the night sky, reflected dancing flames in the inky water.
Resting his chin on her hair, Gray listened as his men checked in. “Any chatter on Stonefish?” he asked, feeling the slump of Hannah’s body relaxing into him as the adrenaline leaked out of her, leaving her limp and exhausted.
“Nada.”
“Bravo One.” Charlie Kyatta ID’ed himself briskly. “At location. Mauro’s gut shot. Jaramillo says he’s not going to make it. We have Sorenson and Deeks separated, but so far neither are talkin’.”
Charlie Kyatta and Bravo team weren’t wasting a second trying to pull any intel that would help them in the next phase. Finding Stonefish and stopping him before he set into motion a coup no one would be able to stop.
“Inform Deeks we have his sister and niece,” Grayson, voice cold, reminded the team leader. “Tell Sorenson we’ll withhold all meds until he gives us what we want.” Sorenson had had a heart transplant barely three months earlier. Acute cellular rejection was most common in patients the first three to six months after a transplant. This was nasty business, but they were prepared to do whatever it took. The countdown was going fast. They had to find Stonefish before it was too fucking late.
“Are you done with work for just a minute?” Hannah asked, turning in his arms. Her husky voice ruffled primeval nerve endings, he’d kept tamped for years.
He had to smile, because just looking at her lightened his heart. “Yeah.” For about eight minutes until they reached the dock.
“You know I hate you, right?” she whispered, voice clogged with emotion. It was dim in the wheelhouse. Just the ambient glow of the rapidly retreating fire, and the small lights on the dash across the room. Hair disheveled, white shirt covered with dark, smoky blotches, she was a red-hot mess. Which made her, blotches, smudges and all, just about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He’d never get tired of looking at her.
Grayson’s smile disappeared, as his heart pinched. Yeah. He knew how she felt about him. With just cause, but it didn’t fucking break his heart any less.
He turned off his comm. His men knew what had to be done, and he had less minutes to hold Hannah before he put her on a plane back to Chicago. There was no guarantee he’d ever see her again. “Hannah-“
“Don’t think I’m downplaying how I feel. The love I once felt for you, a love that was unconditional, and forever, morphed into a feeling that makes me heartsick. I want to not feel this way. But I can’t make myself – not. You ripped out my heart without a word.” She leaned forward, spreading her palms on his chest.
“You killed something inside me, and I resent that just as much. I miss who I was with you. I want that woman back, Grayson. But she’s gone. My anger and hurt built up and built up with nowhere to go. I didn’t expect to ever see you again. I sure as hell didn’t expect it to be here. Now.” Her throat moved as she swallowed, her reddened eyes, holding his, were dark and liquid with emotion. “I’d barely recovered. I don’t want to see you and rehash, re-feel that ever again.”
“We have a second chance.”
Putting cool fingers over his lips she shook her head. “Too late for second chances. But physically I still want what my brain tells me is bad for me. So I want you to kiss me, Gray. So I know my memory is playing tricks on me, so that I know that nothing could be that electrifying, that magical. Kiss me like you kissed me on my seventeenth birthday. As if you’d die if you didn’t…”
He’d kissed her earlier, but he sensed she was looking for some sort of closure. He’d die if he didn’t give her what she was asking for, and change her mind, right now. He felt a familiar stirring as he wrapped his arms around her, tugging her softness close.
He wanted to strip her naked, and take her right there on the bench. Jesus. He’d lost his fucking mind. Since when did he allow himself to experience any emotions? Or think about anything other than the op? He made do with limiting himself to caressing her back through her shirt. He traced the rapid pulse at the base her throat with gentle lips. She smelled of smoke and flowers, and he tasted the sweat on her still damp skin. His dick, constrained behind the
equivalent of a sports cup, leapt in anticipation as he bit her earlobe and reveled in her full body shudder.
Hannah splayed her palms on his chest, kneading her fingers like a cat, as he gently scored the tendons of her neck with his teeth, then stroked his lips up, over her jaw to her mouth.
“This is just to purge those memories,” her breath snagged as he stroked his tongue around her ear lobe. “You get that, right?”
“After this it’ll be just a distant memory,” he assured her, loving her shudder as he breathed against the damp trail he’d made up the side of her throat. He was going to make sure they made new ones.
“Good.”
“Perfect.” Tempting as it was to linger, take his time, draw out the anticipation- It had been way too fucking long. That kiss earlier had been merely an appetizer. This couldn’t be a full meal either, there were far too many eyes around, and interruption was inevitable.
Gray wanted her tongue in his mouth. Now. Her breath hitched as he parted her lips with a languid sweep of his tongue. Slick. Hot. Eager.
He took his time, savoring instead of devouring, letting his tongue slide along hers. Teasing. Tasting. Sucking.
Hannah boldly matched him stroke for stroke, until they were both breathing harshly. Through the thin cotton of her shirt he felt her heat as he used his palm in the small of her back to hold her tightly against him.
She blew his mind. Rocked his world. Always had. Always would.
“ETA ten minutes,” Salinas said discreetly in his ear, through the comm, bringing Grayson back to reality with a thud.
Reluctantly he withdrew his mouth from Hannah’s. Her eyes were dark, her mouth damp. His groin ached, and his heart felt buoyant. Holding her gaze, he responded. “Copy that.”
Breathing rough, color high, she leaned away from him, scanning his face. “It’s dizzying how quickly you can turn on and off like that. It’s your Super Power, isn’t it? The ability to disengage and turn off your emotions?”
