Behind Enemy Lines

by Cindy Dees

  “How can you be so sure there’s going to be more shooting tonight, Tom?”

  “Because the war has started. After you fell asleep, there were some bright flashes from the direction of the coast highway. The rebels undoubtedly shelled it last night, which means the city’s surrounded and the government’s cornered. The army’s going to have to engage the rebels now. There’s nowhere else to run.”

  Her hands stilled on his ribs, which was just as well. He’d die before he let on how ticklish he was.

  “Then there’s nowhere else for us to run, either.”

  He shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he didn’t quite feel. “I’ve been in tighter fixes. St. George has a large civilian population for us to hide in. Besides, the rebels need the people’s support. They’re not going to start killing women and children anytime soon.”

  “So where does that leave you?”

  That was a darn good question, and he didn’t much like the possible answers. He opened one eye to peer up at her lazily as she started massaging his other arm. “Lying low.”

  She didn’t respond to that. He tried to relax under her soothing touch. He had to get control of his jitters. Tom concentrated on the massage. It reminded him of having a cat perched on him, kneading him with its paws. The only thing missing was claws. Annie’s were sheathed for now. At least, they were going to be until he asked her what he was about to.

  “Annie, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I want you to go out and do some reconnoitering.”

  Her hands froze. “Me? I thought that’s what your guys were supposed to do.”

  “They can’t get into the American Embassy unnoticed.”

  “Neither can I. I’m probably a fugitive by now.”

  “We’ll disguise you.”

  “I dunno…”

  Her expression was doubtful, laced with apprehension. Normally he wouldn’t remotely consider sending out one of his men who was in a mental state like hers. But this wasn’t a normal situation. Everything about this mission was messed up.

  “Trust me. It’ll be all right.”

  “Why do you need me to go to the embassy?”

  “To find out if we can count on the American government to help us get out of here. Plus, I need to send my complete mission report to the States.”

  “You can’t use any of your fancy gizmos to transmit it stateside?”

  “The material in it is too sensitive to risk having it intercepted.”

  “I don’t think I can do it undetected….”

  “Sure you can. I’ll show you how. Do you have a dress or something that a local woman might wear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go put it on. And if you’ve got one of those increase-your-cleavage bras, put it on, too.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Just do it. I’ll explain when you get back. Oh, and bring me your passport.” He turned to dig in his rucksack. “While you’re at it, put on a little too much makeup!” he called over his shoulder.

  He found what he was looking for and stretched out on the sofa to wait till Annie returned. He could still feel her hands sliding over him in that knowing way. It was almost spooky having a woman be so comfortable with his body. He never stuck around long enough in relationships for that kind of familiarity to develop.

  It was seductive for damn sure. He could sink into that easy comfort with nary a struggle, just like quicksand. Annie would trap him the same way—all smooth and nonthreatening on the surface, but deadly dangerous to stumble into and impossible to get out of.

  He blinked when he realized she was standing beside the couch, giving him a quizzical look. He jumped up, startled, and winced when ice picks of pain stabbed his legs.

  “Okay, Sherlock, now what?” she asked.

  A floral-print dress made of a clingy fabric swirled around her figure, caressing her curves outrageously.

  Perfect. He grinned. “Elementary, my dear Watson. Unbutton your dress.”

  Incipient outrage gathered in her snapping green gaze. “Now look here, Tom…”

  He cut her off briskly. “We need to work on this trust thing, Annie. I’m not going to take advantage of you.” He held out his hand. “Give me your passport.”

  “You can forget me undressing for you.”

  He raised a single eyebrow and gave her his most intimidating “Oh, yeah?” look. “I swear there won’t be any hanky-panky. Now hand over your passport and get going on those buttons.”

  She gave him the document, eyeing him suspiciously. While he folded two thin sheets of paper and slipped them between the pages of her passport, she reached for the top button in the row that traveled the length of her dress. He tore his gaze away from the erotic sight of her fumbling at her buttons, the cloth falling away tantalizingly beneath her fingers.

  He picked up a self-adhesive gauze bandage and spoke as casually as he could around the thickness in his throat. “My report’s inside your passport. There are two copies of it. One is for Ambassador Kettering, here in Gavarone. The other one needs to go by diplomatic pouch or secure fax to the address on the top of the page. It’s Eyes Only stuff so don’t hand it over to any old clerk, okay?”

  “Handling classified documents is part of my job, Tom. I know what to do.”

  Annie’s fingers fell away from her front, and the dress gaped open.

  Hot blood surged in his loins, and his pants suddenly felt tight. The thin cotton fabric of her dress clung to every nuance of her body, and a vertical slash of tanned stomach promised unholy delights.

  He dragged his gaze upward. She blushed shyly, her face averted. Didn’t she know the curve of her cheek was exciting in its girl-next-door purity?

  His zipper grated irritatingly against his throbbing flesh. Dammit. This was business.

  “Lift your arms, please.”

  Surely his voice didn’t sound as hoarse to her as it did to him. He cleared his throat.

  Annie complied in silence.

  He took a step forward. It brought him close enough to smell the fragrance of a frilly soap clinging to her skin.

  “I’m going to tape your passport to you, now.” He reached out, but paused, inches from her warmth.

  She jumped when his palms contacted her sides. Ignoring her widened pupils and her sharp little intake of breath, he wound the bandage around her, securing the passport just below her bra.

  “If the police arrest you and find this, stick to your cover. You’re an American whose husband was hurt in a climbing accident. You’re going to the embassy to arrange safe passage out of Gavarone. You’re worried about the rebels and have hidden your passport so it won’t get stolen.”

  “What if they look inside it and find your report?”

  “It’s encoded. Tell them it’s secret directions from a treasure map, and your husband’s paranoid that someone will get to the loot before he can go back for it. That’s a weird enough story that they ought to buy it.”

  Annie smiled, momentarily relaxing beneath his hands. Man, she felt good. He’d like to keep right on touching her, all over her body. The discomfort he was already feeling grew to outright pain at the thought. He dragged his unwilling hands away from her.

  While Annie buttoned up her dress, he pulled his pager out of his pocket. His hands weren’t quite steady when he reached for her neckline.

  She started to recoil, then stilled herself. “Now what?”

  “I want you to wear this.” He tucked the pager into the impressive cleft of flesh made by her bra. The backs of his fingers brushed the swelling fullness of her breasts. It was as smooth and tempting as he’d imagined it would be. His palms itched to cup her breasts in their entirety.

  Discipline, my man. Discipline!

  Yeah, right.

  “So that’s why you wanted me to wear a push-up bra! You wanted to hide that thing on me!” She sounded inordinately pleased with her powers of deductive reasoning.

/>   He forced his mind to the business at hand. “Exactly. When you come back here, I’ll be watching for you out the window. If you’re followed, I’ll page you. The pager will vibrate with three one-second bursts in quick succession. If that happens, keep walking. Lose the tail and then come back to this street and try again. I’ll keep paging you until you’re clean. Got it?”

  She looked alarmed, but her voice was reasonably calm. “Got it.”

  “If you get into trouble, push the square button on the end of the pager. That’ll send a panic call out to the rest of my team. You sit tight wherever you are, and they’ll find you. This thing has a homing feature in it.”

  “Is this your pager, Tom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What will you do if you get into trouble? You need this more than I do.” She reached into her bra for the device.

  He put his hand over hers, trapping it against her breast. “You keep it. I insist. I can take care of myself.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. It’s an order. I know what’s best, remember?”

  She scowled at him, but thankfully didn’t argue.

  “Now for the pièce de résistance.” He pulled a bushy black wig out from behind him.

  Annie took one look at it and burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? I’d look like a hooker in that thing. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb!”

  “Put it on and then go into the bathroom and brush it out. Maybe pull it back into a ponytail or put it up. Do some girl stuff to it.”

  “Not even girl stuff’s gonna help that rug. Where did you get it?”

  “I got it in Mexico. And it’s a perfectly fine wig. It’s saved my butt more than once, I’ll have you know.”

  “Will you try it on for me after I get back?” she teased.

  He scowled and didn’t deign to answer.

  Grinning, Annie took it and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Tom sagged onto the couch. That woman was going to kill him if he had to look at her and touch her like that again. He was a disciplined guy, but he wasn’t made of steel. Hell, a ninety-year-old priest would contemplate sin with a woman like that standing half-naked in front of him.

  Now, if she could just get to the embassy and back in one piece. The thought was icy water on his libido. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the sofa. He could think of a hundred things that might go wrong, and every one of them had a decent chance of happening today. But he had no choice. He wasn’t strong enough yet to do it himself, and time was of the essence. He had to get her out of Gavarone and away from him and his team. Still, he hated to put her at risk like this.

  He argued with himself. Annie was a military officer, after all, and she did have rudimentary training for this sort of work. When it came right down to it, she had signed up to be put in harm’s way. The job needed doing, and she was in line to do it.

  He chewed the inside of his cheek.

  He’d shoot himself if anything happened to her.

  Annie stepped out of the bathroom. How she’d managed to create a nice hairdo with his wig he’d never know, but she looked great. He stepped back to survey her critically.

  “You’ve got the hooker look almost right. Come here, and I’ll make the last little adjustment.”

  She stepped close, looking up at him curiously.

  Quickly, before he could think better of it, he took her face in both of his hands and kissed her.

  She tasted of wicked temptation and sinful delights. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was wrong. It was unprofessional. It was completely impossible for him to stop.

  He opened his mouth, asking her to surrender to the kiss.

  She didn’t need much encouragement. She melted into him, pressing that body of hers against his, every luscious inch welcoming him. He groaned and slipped his arms around her, molding her more closely to his frame.

  Her hands plunged into his hair, pulling his head closer. She tasted him as greedily as he tasted her, their tongues clashing and wrestling like lovers. The couch beckoned him to pull her down with him and take all of her. Hell, the floor would do right now. A rage to have her flooded him, driving him mindlessly onward.

  Suddenly, he stopped himself. Business, dammit! His team needed to get out of Gavarone without a woman in tow, and he owed it to Annie to get her out of this hellhole alive, purity intact.

  He released her and staggered back a step. “Sorry about that. You looked too perfect.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “So you kissed me?”

  “You needed mussing up. That seemed the most efficient way to do it.”

  She looked confused as all get-out, but at least he’d managed to distract her.

  “Well then.” She cleared her throat nervously. “I’m all for efficiency. So how do I look now?”

  She looked like a fallen angel dying to sin with him.

  “Uhh, fine. You look fine. And you don’t look like a hooker, by the way.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. I think.”

  “It was. Sort of.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him as he escorted her to the door.

  “Stay calm and keep your wits about you. Don’t take any chances. If you can’t make it into the embassy undetected, don’t push it. We’ll find some other way.”

  He unlatched the door and opened it for her.

  “And remember not to let your gaze dart around. Don’t walk too fast or too slow. Go with the flow of traffic. Keep your shoulders back and down. And don’t clench your fists or show tension….”

  “Yes, mother. I’ll be careful.”

  She was grinning at him.

  He returned her grin ruefully. “Okay, I’ll shut up. You be safe out there.”

  “I will. But thanks for worrying about me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He shut the door and turned to look at the empty apartment. He sighed. He purely hated waiting. Especially when he’d sent one of his people into danger and was helpless to protect them.

  Annie peered out a side entrance of the American Embassy. The street looked harmless enough. So why couldn’t she force her feet to carry her back outside? Only after achieving the safety of her embassy had she realized how fear had been her constant shadow these past few days. She was loath to leave the embrace of American soil and venture once more into the dangers of St. George.

  But Tom was waiting for her. He needed her. She had to return his beeper to him. A bead of sweat formed and rolled slowly between her shoulder blades, gathering speed and rushing down her back into oblivion. She dragged her feet forward, took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into peril.

  Gavarone’s muggy heat slugged her in the gut. She stumbled, then moved doggedly onward. Although she slipped into the pedestrian traffic, Annie got an instant feeling that someone was following her.

  It was probably just paranoia. But she felt as if a pair of burning eyeballs were boring into her back. She repeated Tom’s instructions over and over and prayed they would be enough.

  Her steps followed, one after another, relentlessly carrying her farther and farther from the embassy and safety. A terrible certainty set in that she was going to be caught.

  She had no business being out here. This attaché posting was supposed to be a cushy one in a tropical backwater with lots of sun, sand and exotic fruit drinks. Rebels and guns and arrests weren’t part of the deal. Tom and his men were depending on her, and she was going to let them down.

  As a kid she’d imagined how exciting it would be to get involved in some supersecret espionage operation for her country. But this was too real. Too frightening. She’d never realized what it would be like to work without a safety net.

  She wasn’t trained in an array of survival skills, nor was she ironman fit, with nerves of steel. Heck, she wasn’t even a student of warfare. Tom was prepared to operate in this kind of environment, but she wasn’t.

  She’d gotten so caught up in her fantasy of being p
art of a wildly cool squad like Tom’s that she’d waded in way over her head. And here she was, alone and completely vulnerable, her no-kidding life on the line. She’d made a dreadful, terrible mistake.

  No matter what advice Tom had given her, Annie’s hands began to shake uncontrollably. Her legs felt like Jell-O, and her insides ran like water. Despite herself, her stride lengthened and her pace quickened. After a few blocks she realized she was practically running. She slowed her pace, her breath heaving.

  And then it began again, the insidious panic that spurred her to walker faster and faster until she thought she was going to explode.

  Light-headed with terror, she slowed herself again.

  And again.

  It was an interminable nightmare, but she made her way across town without bolting completely. If someone was following her, they were letting her go to see where she led them. At least Tom would know what to do. He’d take care of whatever mess she’d gotten herself into.

  She managed by a thread to hold herself together. Only the thought of Tom sustained her when her anxiety became unbearable. He was her safe port in this wild ocean of unseen dangers.

  As she finally reached the street their apartment building was on, she forced herself to stop at a street market. While she picked out some fresh sea bass—the locals called it corvina—for supper, she checked for the person who’d followed her.

  Over there. That man in the gray pants and white shirt. Had she seen him when she left the embassy? Or what about that man in the leather jacket? Surely it was too warm a day for a coat like that. Or maybe that elderly woman browsing at the fruitstand next door. She looked as if she was moving too nimbly for her age. Oh, God. Now what to do?

  Annie’s thoughts tumbled in confusion. Should she try to lose her invisible follower now or go straight back home the way Tom had told her to? As much as she craved his protection, she dared not endanger Tom. He wasn’t healthy enough to take on anything really deadly that she might lead back to him. Now what?