“You have a boat? Really?” Tess asked. They were cross-legged on the bed, the pizza box spread beside them, and discussing any subject that came up. He hadn’t put another shirt back on, and that alone was a significant first step. She’d snagged it when he didn’t use it. For now, that was all she wore over her freshly laundered underwear. He wore a clean pair of boxers, but his hairy legs were still bare and hard to keep her hands off of. The compulsion to touch and pet him persisted. It took all of her self-control to not. He insisted on replacing his socks, though. The sheets and blankets were somewhere on the floor.
Lee shrugged. “It’s no big deal. It’s not a fancy yacht, just a rugged little sailboat.”
“Is it very big?”
“Nah. Twenty-seven feet. Six berths if you forgo storage space. It’s got an enclosed head. A built-in shower. Lots of deck space. I think you’d like it.”
“That sounds big to me,” she said, her eyes on his legs again. Lee was sculptured granite with a few nicks that only added to his appeal. Muscular calves expanded when he moved. He was eye-candy in motion. Her respect for him just kept growing. He was a survivor the same as she was. That meant he was tough, but fragile. Maybe a little crazy. Her heart flip-flopped. They had an awful lot in common for two people who’d just met.
“Hey, you.” He tapped the tip of her nose. “Where’d you fade away to?”
She jerked her mind away from her introspection. “I was imagining you out on the ocean. You have a seafarer look about you.”
“I look like a pirate?” He arched a wicked brow. “Aye, aye, Matey.”
“Not exactly.” She looked into the gentle green eyes of the man who’d kidnapped her. How had this happened? Last night she’d hated him, but now? He’d become important in a way she couldn’t explain. “You have that far-away look sometimes, like you’re thinking too hard or watching the horizon. Like you have somewhere else to be.”
“I do, huh?” He rolled his eyes and wiggled his brows. “You ought to come with me some day. I’m sailing the Atlantic when I’m done with this op. You’d like it. It’s... sufficient.”
That odd statement made her realize how little she knew about Lee. “Sufficient? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He winked. “It means I’m not looking to be the richest, the most powerful, or the smartest guy in the world. It’s something my mom used to say. I am what I am. I want just enough that I can comfortably live my life. I want to die a happy man with my boots on.”
“Wow,” she murmured. “That’s kind of deep.”
“Nah. It’s just life.” That far-away look had just skated across his face before he ripped another mouthful from his fifth slice of pizza. The man could eat, and it made Tess smile.
It was late evening. Three bottles of beer were already gone, and he seemed relaxed. All that sex hadn’t hurt, either. Neither did the fact that he now knew she was on birth control. Tess smiled to herself. She should’ve told him earlier. He might have been able to enjoy himself a little more.
She had to admit, never before had she craved kissing a man like she did Lee. That he’d been able to shatter her merely using his lips on her mouth was the best surprise of all. His fingertips worked wonders, but his mouth? To die for. Tasty. Persuasive. So damned delectably hot.
“What’d you mean when you said I was your Alexander?” he asked.
She reached her index finger to his mouth and traced pizza crumbs to the tip of his waiting tongue, wondering which of them craved the other more. He’d ignited an insatiable part of her soul. “You know, Alexander the Great. The conqueror of the world.”
Lee cocked a devilish brow. “What you talking about?”
“You don’t know about his great love?”
“Wait a minute. Was he great or was his love great? Which is it? It can’t be both.” He teased, and she giggled. Lee Hart was a funny guy. His hair, curled and messy after his impromptu shower and their ravishingly good sex, gave him a boyish charm. Now that his guard was down, he was playful. He hadn’t lost that serious core, but neither was he focused on his shortcomings.
“Do I need to tell you a bedtime story?” she asked demurely.
“Yes, ma’am, you do.” He grabbed another piece of pizza, set his beer on the nightstand, shoved the pizza box away, and flopped his gorgeous head onto her lap, his knees bent.
“Well...” She combed her fingertips into deep, deep mahogany, smiling at the charming man chewing pizza and grinning up at her like he didn’t have a care in the world. It was hard to believe he’d made love to her as thoroughly as he had. As gently. “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...”
“Give me a little credit,” he interrupted. “Alexander the Great was never on Star Wars.”
She kissed his forehead, an ache beginning to build deep in her soul for this incredible man. “But it was a long time ago—more than two thousand years.”
Lee nodded and chewed, talking with his mouth half-full. “Around 300 B.C., maybe a little sooner, right?”
“Ahh. You’re smarter than you look.” Now it was her turn to tease.
“Keep it up and you’ll see just how smart I am,” he rumbled. “You ready for more?”
She put a fingertip to his lips. “Behave. Story first.”
He growled petulantly, and she started again. “When Alexander first came to this part of the world, he wasn’t much older than us, and—”
“Wait a minute. How old are you?”
“You dare to ask a woman her age in the middle of a bedtime story?” She pretended offense.
“I’m just thinking I should’ve asked sooner, too. I might’ve committed a crime against a minor and—”
“Oh, hush.” She ruffled her fingers through his hair playfully.
“You’re over eighteen though, right?”
“Yes, sir, I’m twenty-nine. And you?”
“Thirty-one.” He finished that slice of pizza and licked his fingers. “Good. My information was correct. You’re legal. You may continue.”
“I may, huh?” She took a deep breath and started again. “Alexander was determined to rule the world. He’d already beaten the powerful Persian King, Darius the Third. Spring had come to the Bactria, but the stone mountains were still covered with snow. A fierce mountain people lived there, very wealthy and arrogant. They scoffed at this audacious young general named Alexander despite his reputation for conquering nations and the massive army he’d brought with him. Their pride proved their undoing. Alexander’s bravest soldiers worked night and day to scale the steep mountain walls. At last, the proud mountain people’s defenses were breached. They had no choice but to surrender and submit to his will.”
“Sounds tactically smart to me.” He finished his pizza and lay peacefully twisting a strand of her hair between his fingers, pausing to lift it to his nose. Every time he did, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply like he couldn’t get enough of her scent.
“One morning, Alexander saw the beautiful daughter of one of the noblemen he’d taken captive, Roxana. The legend says her golden hair gleamed brighter than the wheat fields of the Kunar. The precious beads and golden ornaments dangling over her face and head were nothing in comparison to her exotic beauty.” Tess smoothed her index finger over his lip. “You see Alexander was smitten. He told his closest generals Roxana had stolen his soul with one breath, that he couldn’t regain it until he made her his.”
Lee lifted a hand to her cheek. “I know how he felt.”
Tess rubbed her cheek into his palm, craving everything about this man. “On the day Alexander and Roxana were wed, more than ten thousand of his men also took wives from the mountain people.”
“Whew,” Lee sighed. “That’s a lot of ‘I dos’. Does this mountain kingdom have a name?”
“Sogdiana, the ancient land that is now Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. But it wasn’t an unwilling marriage for strategic influence, as historians have portrayed it. Oh no. Alexander and Roxana’s love was a thing of destiny. I
t is said the larks in the meadow gathered in chorus when he and his beloved walked by. The great eagles of the sky offered aerial escort. Even the lonely wolf became more loyal guardian than beast, trailing behind them like a pet dog to do their bidding. All of nature bowed to the much-loved warrior and his lady.”
“That’s a nice fairytale, but I’ve studied Alexander and his push for world domination, Tess,” Lee said. “He wasn’t a nice man. He killed his father and murdered his brother. It took him eighteen bloody months to conquer Sogdiana and Bactria. He only needed Roxana to seal the political alliance between him and the rulers of that part of his kingdom. That was all.”
“Possibly,” Tess hedged. “Did you know he didn’t allow his armies to pillage the countryside of the lands they conquered?”
“True. He wanted to be lord of the land. He wanted subjects, not slaves.”
“He was the ultimate politician. A genius.”
“He was that,” Lee agreed, “but he also became paranoid. Some historians think he was a bi-polar genius with ferocious mood swings that resulted in him murdering his closest friends.”
“Shh. Who’s telling this fairytale?” She grinned down at him. “Do you want to hear about Roxana or not?”
His cheeks crinkled into the warmest smile when his chin tilted up. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered. “Your wish is my command. I will obey.”
“Okay, so maybe he was nothing more than a brilliant military strategist and a great general, but his love for Roxana was legendary, and...” Tess paused to run her fingers through Lee’s hair, watching it ripple as her hand moved over his scalp. He closed his eyes, and a sexy masculine rumble escaped his lips. There was no way to resist this man resting so intimately close to her.
Tess leaned into those tempting lips and let her tongue caress his again. His hand circled her neck, pulling her gently into his open mouth. Their tongues tangled. The story faded away as their combined body heat built. With a sexy groan, he flipped her over his hip and into his arms, growling, “I’m ready for dessert” as he nibbled her bottom lip between urgent kisses.
“Me, too,” she muttered with every beat of her heart.
He slid his hand down her body and peeled her panties off. Before she knew it, she was beneath him again, her bare body open for him and his mouth working her over-stimulated nerve endings. The sappiest moans escaped her throat, more feminine whine than intelligent communication. Lee seemed able to turn her inside out with one touch. He drove her crazy with his mouth and his fingers. Her soul vaulted up into dizzying pinnacles that stole her breath and left her gasping for more... and more.
His mouth trailed fiery sparks down the line between her breasts, cleaving her in half with his tongue, and she climbed once more to the heights of forever. This was the boost she’d wanted, his knees pressed to the backs of her thighs as he offered her a view of eternity. She fell, clinging to him and panting her exhilaration away, his own spent energy purring in her neck.
“Have I known you in another lifetime?” he muttered, his voice rough and gravelly.
“Yes,” she breathed, her heart clamoring in her chest. “Remember? You’re my Alexander and I’m your Roxana.”
He sighed heated shivers into her soul. “Were they half as good together as we are?”
She shook her head. “Never. No one could ever be as good as us.”
“Hoped you’d say that,” he said, rolling to her side. She turned to him as he gathered her into his arm, her head comfortable on his chest.
“I feel like I have known you before, too,” she admitted, “but it isn’t possible.”
Lee sighed deeply. “Same with me. I don’t know about all that Alexander and Roxana stuff, but you definitely do something to me.”
Her heart expanded. Life was crazy. Love more so.
“I didn’t do anything.” Tess placed a kiss on his whiskered jaw, her eyes brimming with sudden tears. This man had brought a forgotten part of her to the surface as well. She felt that same sense of restoration taking place in her heart, as if she’d found something she’d lost. As if she’d been found in the process.
Her brash and reckless side had taken a step back, the same as it did in the warehouse when he’d first embraced her. Was this what true love felt like, to want another person’s happiness more than yours? It felt right, but it scared her. Love stories ended badly. People always lied or cheated. Worse—they left. Like Alexander did to Roxana. Like so many other men did to the women they claimed they loved.
“So how’s this fantastical love story of yours end?”
“He died,” Tess said simply. “At nearly thirty-three years of age, he died, leaving Roxana behind and heavy with child. Alexander never saw the son of his great love.”
“And then they were murdered,” Lee whispered. “This isn’t a good way to end a fairytale.”
“That’s what historians want us to believe.”
“Right. His kingdom was spread so far and wide across the known world it couldn’t be controlled by one man. His enemies forged alliances to ensure that his son would never become the ruler that Alexander was. Roxana was sent to Macedonia to live out the rest of her days. The boy and she were murdered there.”
“That’s what historians want us to believe,” Tess repeated.
Lee peered down at her. “Are you telling me you’re smarter than historians?”
She batted those not-so-innocent violet-blues at him, her hand seeking the crook of his neck as she pulled herself on top of him again. “Yes. I’m telling you there’s a legend that is truer than history. Roxana may have been a foreigner, but she had many loyal friends. In her darkest hour, she wasn’t alone. When her enemies came to assassinate her and her son, they found nothing. She and her child were already spirited away to the high mountains of the Hindu Kush. Historians insist she was buried in Persia, but that was a lie spread by Alexander’s enemies. Even today no one can prove it. They have no grave or body of Roxana or Alexander’s son.”
“Then who’d they kill in Macedonia?”
“How do you know they killed anyone? They didn’t have to. The lies started then because Alexander’s enemies couldn’t admit his heir still lived. That they’d failed.”
“Then what?”
Tess sensed Lee didn’t necessarily believe her, but he wasn’t going to argue. “Roxana and the boy, Alexander IV, lived the rest of their lives among the mountain people. He lived to be a great leader and a noble chieftain. He had many wives and children. When Roxana finally died of old age, the people couldn’t bear her passing. Her son had her body mummified in the way of the ancient Phoenicians.”
Lee didn’t answer, so she continued, “According to the legend, the village holy man removed both of Roxana’s index fingers after she died, and he secreted them inside a golden reliquary. That way he and his monks travelled the region to share the memory of their beloved queen. People came for miles around to pay homage and to seek her immortal blessings when they touched her blessed remains.”
“Kinda like the relics of saints in cathedrals and churches, huh?”
“Yes.” She traced the outline of Lee’s lips with her index finger. “Kinda like.”
“Interesting theory,” he mumbled, snatching the first knuckle of her finger between his teeth and sucking. She smiled to watch his eyes close while he enjoyed the taste of her. Again there was that feeling he didn’t believe her story, but he wouldn’t argue.
“What if I told you I have proof?”
“Mmm,” he mumbled around her finger, his eyes still closed “I’d like to, mmm, see that.”
“I have the golden reliquary, Lee,” she said softly.
Both eyes popped open. He pulled her finger out of his mouth, one brow spiked. “You what? Say again?”
She couldn’t help but smile. He looked so earnestly perplexed. “I said I have the ancient reliquary from that village high in the Hindu Kush. I have the blessed fingers of Roxana.”
“No way.” Lee straightened agai
nst the headboard, pulling her into a sitting position with him. “How’d you get it?”
“I stole it from Sherazi after he stole it from the museum when the Taliban ordered all ancient idols destroyed. He planned to give it to Nizari as a gift.” Her joy in her stealthy achievements knew no bounds. It felt good to share her wonderful secret with Lee.
“Are two fingers still in it?”
She nodded, wiggling with uncontrollable excitement. “Yes! Roxana’s! I contacted an archeologist friend of mine, Monsieur Favreau, and he offered to have the DNA testing done for me. We should get the results back any day now. He’s the one who discovered the truth of the legend before he went into French politics. Isn’t that too good to be true?”
Lee’s face blanched white. “The French Ambassador? You knew the French Ambassador? He’s your trusted agent?”
“Yes, why? Do you know him?”
Lee blew out a small breath between pursed lips. “I hate to tell you, but he’s dead, Tess. Turik shot him the day before yesterday.”
“No.” Her mouth dropped. “But I just... but then... What about Musa? Yusuf?”
He took both of her hands in his. “Were they the assistant curators at the museum? One with a heavy gray beard, the other young and—”
“Yes.” She clutched his wrists, pleading. “Tell me, Lee. Please. Are they okay? They have to be okay.”
“Oh, hell.” He pulled her into his side, his heart pounding in her ears and the lovely moment destroyed. “They’re both dead. Turik shot them, too.”
“What have I done?” she murmured, her perfect world coming undone. The sweet, kind face of Yusuf and those of his family came to her mind. His wife, poor Miriam. Poor baby Benjamin. “They helped me secrete the reliquary out of the museum. We thought we’d covered our tracks so well. What have I done?”
“That explains a lot,” Lee said. “I hate to ask, but—”
“Who else? Tell me!” she demanded, pulling away from the safety of his arms. “Who else has Mohammed murdered because of me?”
Lee bit his lower lip and Tess’s heart sank.
“Oh, no. Not Clint,” she begged. “Not my baby brother.”
Lee (In the Company of Snipers Book 12) Page 15
