Way of the Warrior

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “Well, Sergeant First Class Rook Granger, it’s time you got reacquainted. Because we’ve got to get to Oregon. I can do a whole helluva lot of things, but flying a plane ain’t one of them.” She took off again, hoping he’d follow.

  CHAPTER 4

  Rook breathed in the bitterly cold air of Warrenton, Oregon, and felt the vicious talons of fear release their hold. She’d made his ass fly, and the entire time his palms had sweat and his neck had prickled. He’d wondered if they were being tracked. If they’d be blown out of the sky. If he’d kill them with his lack of experience. So many things had run through his mind, but right now, in this place of cold Pacific winds and snow, he felt safe.

  “Here,” Olivia said, handing him a long plastic case.

  He turned to her and took it. She smiled shyly, and he felt something move in his chest. Another release but this one caused a different sort of alarm to replace the fear of death. He was attracted to Michael’s sister. And it had nothing to do with the fact that it’d been well over a year since heʼd had a woman.

  If only it were. Then he’d be able to live with what he knew was going to happen between them. Because as sure as hell was hot, he was going to have the woman with the chocolate-brown eyes, soft lips, and enough bravery for an entire company of soldiers.

  “What is this?” He took it from her and snapped open the closures.

  What met his gaze had him going into panic mode. She’d brought him a brand-new carbon fiber–reinforced polymer blade prosthetic. The lightweight material was multifunctional and would allow him an ease of movement the one he normally wore didn’t. It even had traction plates on the bottom of the blade. He hadn’t had a new prosthetic in over five years. Such a simple thing and yet it stole a heart he didn’t think even beat anymore.

  Rook had gone through hell getting back to active status. After an RPG had taken his leg in Fallujah, he’d suffered depression. Losing his leg hadn’t been the half of it. He’d been a soldier his entire adult life. It defined him as nothing else. The loss of his active status, not being able to be out there with his teammates, had destroyed him.

  So he’d worked at making himself invaluable. He’d been one of the first men ever reinstated to active duty with a prosthetic. Sure, it had been active duty as a Delta Force liaison, but he’d been back in. He’d regained who he was. Then he’d lost it again when he lost his unit in Mogadishu. And here was this woman, this crazy, gorgeous as all hell woman, trying to give it back to him?

  He glanced up at her, noticing how the low lights of the plane highlighted the cream of her skin. “You’re mine.”

  The words were pulled from him. It was insanity. He couldn’t have her. More than likely, he’d die on whatever this mission of hers was. But if he managed to keep her alive, he wouldn’t shackle her to him. He had nothing to offer but duty. Yet those words solidified his objective. And when Rook focused on something hard enough, completely enough, it became his.

  “Nope. I’m mine, but you’re welcome for the new blade,” she said saucily. “You might want to go ahead and change. We’ve got a fifteen-minute drive from here, and then we’ll hike in.”

  He set aside his lust. Business it would be then. “Soon is now.”

  Her brows lowered, and it was the cutest fucking thing he’d ever seen. “Huh?”

  “I need those answers,” he said.

  “Change first, and then we’ll talk,” she urged.

  He bit off his reply and sat down to change his leg. Her delays had his instincts roaring at him, but he’d walked out of Leavenworth with her. He had to see this through to the end. If it meant his life, so be it. Plus, she’d given him the single word that above all others led him to believe her motives, while crazy, were altruistic. Endgame. The secretive spec-ops entity that had been courting Rook for well over a year now. Good guys dressed in shadows and willing to do whatever was necessary to win any and all wars in the name of freedom.

  “The car is secured,” she said as she stuck her head back in the plane.

  He followed her out, testing the movement of the new prosthetic. These limbs had to be fitted perfectly. How she’d managed to get one made to his specifications he had no idea. He needed to thank her, but the cold wind took his words and flung them to the sea writhing yards beyond the airfield where they’d landed.

  “I’m driving,” he said above the wind.

  She shrugged and got in the passenger seat. He smiled. It was his first victory with her, unless you counted the kiss in Kansas.

  He got in, turned up the heat, and sat there.

  “We really need to move. Small window of time here. Lots of shit to get done,” she reminded him.

  “Who are you, Olivia Bentwood?”

  She didn’t answer right away, obviously weighing what she would give him and what she would hold back. His neck prickled again, and he recognized it as the fear taking hold. He was a soldier, hardened in battle, but his nightmares caused his waking hours to be filled with horror. He’d done and been the recipient of unimaginably bad things. Fear held his hand and kept him sane. It was a comforting friend in the midst of a world gone mad.

  “Don’t bullshit me. You know who I am. You know what I’ve done. I want it all, Olivia, or I’ll leave you the first time you turn your back,” he told her, making sure to keep his voice as deadened as his intent.

  She glanced at him, eyes wide, mouth falling open. “You would leave? After everything I’ve gone through to get you this meeting, you would leave?” Her disgust at the prospect reverberated through the car.

  He opened his hands and clenched them again. “You made the decision to do this. Not me.”

  “Is that how you sleep at night? You didn’t make the decisions so that absolves you from responsibility? Michael told me all about you, Rook, but never that you were a coward.”

  He grabbed her neck then, wrapping his big, scarred hand around her throat, holding her loosely as he stroked the soft skin of her chin with his thumb. His threat was implied. He controlled the situation, not her. “Who are you? You told me CIA. I’ve no doubt you’re probably a desk jockey cyber spook with that fancy, blacked-out computer, but I’m just not sure.”

  “Why not a badass CIA field operative?”

  He snorted, barely cutting off the laugh that threatened to escape. “Seriously?”

  “Not entirely out of the realm of feasibility. Maybe I’m as hardcore as you?”

  He narrowed his gaze and squeezed his hand infinitesimally. “I have your throat in my hand. You wield a mean computer virus, but if you were with the Company, I’d be digging a knife out of my side right now. CIA field operatives are the very best killers, almost as good as Delta Force.”

  Her eyes went wide, sucking the air from his lungs. He didn’t want to scare her, but at the end of the day, he’d been trained to do just that and he did it really well.

  “You don’t scare me,” she whispered.

  He almost laughed. She’d read his mind. “Yes, I do. You were scared from the moment you saw me sitting there, chained to the floor. You were scared when that goddamn guard touched you over and over. And you were scared when I got in your face. You hid it well, but yes, it was fear. I smelled it all over you, tasted it when I kissed you. Now tell me, who are you?”

  “Cyber spook,” she said with a sigh. “I was recruited right out of high school. I went to school at MIT, dual majored in computer science and programming, and entered the field of cyber spying at the age of twenty-one. I’ve worked at Langley for six years, in all areas of interest for the agency.”

  It made sense now, how Michael had managed to find out so much. He’d had his sister do his research for him. “You make a habit of dipping into classified information for personal use?”

  She didn’t deny it. That same core of honor that ran through Michael hadn’t missed his sister. “Michael needed me. I answered the c
all. You have no idea what I would have done for my brother.”

  “Oh, I think I most definitely know. After all, you’re here, aren’t you?”

  She nodded, but her eyes were drooping.

  “How long since you slept?”

  She licked her lips. His dick went hard.

  “Two, maybe three days now?”

  “We’re headed to see General Arbor?”

  Surprise flared in her eyes. Fatigue was making her slow.

  “You knew I knew where we were headed,” he reminded her. “You need sleep.”

  She licked her lips again. “I can sleep when I’m dead,” she pointed out.

  He stroked his thumb over her lips now, taking the wetness and spreading it. He ached, couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as badly as he did Michael’s sister. “I’m going to make sure you don’t die, Vivi.”

  She smiled. “Michael always called me Vivi.”

  He almost groaned. “I know.” Rook pulled his hand away, palm itching to stay against her warm skin. “Who gave the order for the clusterfuck in Mogadishu?” he asked.

  Her gaze met his, direct and without any hint of subterfuge. “Deputy Director of the CIA Grant Horner along with former Joint Special Operations Commander Gordon Channel.”

  Rook nodded. The CIA worked closely with JSOC, so it wasn’t unusual for Delta to be involved in their operations. Fucking spooks. When they weren’t lying, they were lying. He put the car in gear.

  Horner was a name, a place to start. But Rook knew that Horner was the fall guy. So was Channel. The game had begun in the mountains of the Hindu Kush of Kunar Province. Rook’s unit being inserted into the shithole that was Mogadishu two years later had been another move on the game board. Ultimately, Horner was simply a pawn for the main players as they sought checkmate.

  Endgame.

  “Here are the directions,” Vivi said in a voice that sang with weariness.

  He wanted to leave her here. Take up this campaign on his own, but he knew she’d follow and cause problems. “I know how to get there.”

  She nodded. “I thought so. Seems like you know everything.”

  He ignored her jab. “Get some rest. I’ll pull up, do some scouting and come back for you before we meet up with him.”

  She yawned, and before he could say another word, she was out.

  So many unknowns in this game. So many entities vying for the ultimate prize of power. The waters were murky, and while Rook had struggled to maintain a position on the fence, he was being forced to align with a side.

  He just hoped he picked the right one.

  CHAPTER 5

  A knock on the window pulled Vivi from sleep. It was a rough slide that ended with her heart in her throat. She snorted. Some CIA operative she was. Rook’s face was highlighted by the moon as it peeked from behind a cloud, but Vivi noticed the snow continued to fall softly. She opened the door and got out.

  “Shit, it’s cold,” she muttered.

  He grunted.

  “Hey, that grunting thing you do? Yeah, it really gets on my nerves.”

  He laughed. “Not a morning person?”

  “It’s the middle of the night, so I guess not,” she bit out acerbically.

  “Look at me,” he demanded.

  She did but just couldn’t muster the energy to get mad at herself for obeying. “Yeah?”

  “Now’s the time to cut bait and run, Vivi.”

  She shook her head. “I made a—”

  He held up a hand. “I know, I know. You promised Michael. But the truth is ugly, Olivia, and I’d rather not expose you to it.”

  “Not your decision to make. I pulled this meet for you. He’s expecting both of us,” she reasoned.

  “No, he isn’t. He’s expecting me.” He rubbed his chest. “Michael was a good man. You’ve done what his crazy ass asked. I don’t want you involved in this,” he said in a hard voice.

  How had this man managed to weasel under her skin so quickly? What was it about him that made her want to throw away everything she’d worked for to save him?

  She cocked her head, remembering her brother’s words, his plea. “My brother told me how you pulled him from the hut when the bullets started flying. You gave him your weapon, propped him against the outer wall of the compound your unit was scouting, and went back in for more men. He said he remembered seeing you flying out of the front door of that hut in Mogadishu, the world exploding around you. He remembered every bite of the shrapnel entering his body. He remembered you reaching him, finding his comm device and calling for help. He remembered the blood pouring from your head and your cries into his device for extraction.”

  Vivi paused, her brother’s words ringing in her ears. She breathed in and smelled the antiseptic—that unmistakable hospital scent that never quite left you. “You saved him, and even though he died from his wounds, you gave him enough time for me to say good-bye.”

  Her eyes blurred, but she met his gaze, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Do you have any idea what that meant to me? My brother was my world. He was all I had, and he knew I’d need something to keep me going. So he gave me you. He was the most honorable man I’ve ever known. The strongest man I’ve ever known. And I will see this through so that you live free because my brother couldn’t.”

  He shook his head, reaching over and once again whisking away her tears. “Michael wouldn’t want you to give your life for me. I’m not worth that, Vivi.”

  Her heart was back in her throat. “You are worth that. My brother believed it, and after everything I’ve learned about you, so do I.”

  “When I see General Arbor, it will be over. If he’s not who you seem to think he is, he’ll report that he’s seen me. From that point on, your name will be locked with mine—”

  “I’ve got this. I wear big-girl thongs and everything,” she said with a smile.

  He grunted. She lowered her brows. He laughed. She sighed.

  He finally relented. “Let’s go. You sure those scrawny legs can handle this terrain?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip. “Scrawny legs? Your mama’s got scrawny legs, Beret Boy.”

  Those delightful lips of his tugged upward. “I don’t wear berets, baby.”

  She shrugged. “I’m a cyber spy. I don’t really pay too much attention to what badass spec-ops boys wear. Also? I’ve got this. And contrary to your belief, Arbor is expecting me.”

  He shook his head. “You’re armed?”

  She raised a brow and rolled her eyes. “To the gills.”

  “I found your stash,” he told her.

  “Wasn’t hard considering I left it on the backseat in plain view.”

  “For the record, I really don’t want you going in here.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. For the record? I’m going.”

  He rolled his shoulders and looked up at the dark sky. Snow fell on his face, dotting his lashes, and she wanted to lick that snow, kiss his brow, hold him in her arms and tell him it would all be okay. Instead, she straightened her shoulders. “Fifteen hours, Rook.”

  He breathed deep and glanced at her, gaze hard, face blank. “It’ll only take one.”

  She didn’t know what to make of that. General Arbor was the first step, not the last. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  His lips curved, and his face warmed. “Nobody knows more than you, Vivi. That’s what Michael always said. He showed me your picture once.”

  She cocked her head. “I hope it was a good one.”

  That panty-dropping smile was back in place, and she actually took a step toward him.

  “You were wearing a teeny-tiny red bikini.” He licked his lips. Vivi went liquid. “I never knew red was my favorite color.”

  Desire curled low in her body, loosening her muscles and flowing through her
like a luxurious wave. “Maybe I’ll wear it for you one day.”

  She wanted to slap her hand over her mouth. What the hell?

  “Goddamn, I hope so.”

  Four words and he stole her heart. It was insanity. Along with all the intelligence her brother had lauded her for, all the stubbornness he bemoaned, Vivi was an all-in kinda gal. And in the space of nine hours, she’d gone all in with Rook Granger.

  She hoped so, too. She really hoped she got to spend some time with SFC Rook Granger, either with or without the teeny-tiny red bikini.

  “Wish I knew what was going on in that brain of yours.” He tapped her nose. “But we need to move.”

  She nodded, shoving down her desires and forcing herself into business mode.

  “You’ll take my flank. I go in first. Watch for my signal before you make entrance,” he said.

  “Got it. Um, Rook?”

  He had turned away from her, grabbing up the backpack she’d brought for him. “Yeah?”

  “What do you think I’d have to do to become a full-fledged CIA field operative?”

  He shrugged those massive shoulders, but a grin played about his lips. “I don’t know. Get shot or some crazy shit like that?”

  She nodded and bit her lip. He turned away.

  “Um, Rook? One more thing?”

  He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “What’s the signal?”

  “You’ll know,” he told her before he took off in the direction of General Arbor’s place.

  “Great,” she muttered as she watched him disappear into the copse of cedars at the edge of the clearing where she’d parked.

  It took them thirty minutes instead of the fifteen she’d prepped for. The heavy snow, wind, and darkness took their toll on her pretty quickly, so when Rook raised his fist in the air, she was grateful for the reprieve.

  Ahead of them was a lone cabin, no lights, only the occasional moonbeam dancing between the towering trees and shadows. Something stirred to her right, and she pulled her pistol, training it on the spot before she noticed it was just a low-hanging branch.