"Never? You've never had a burn?"
"Not a sunburn," he qualified.
Instantly she wanted to know more. He was a GhostWalker. She knew he was a member of the famed PJs, the pararescue squadron of the GhostWalkers, and that he took his job of protecting everyone around him very seriously. He was a member of the team Violet had sold out to Cheng. She was fairly certain he wasn't a traitor to his country, but she had no way of knowing if anyone else on his team was. Or if the moment she revealed herself, they would try to send her back to Whitney. She would never go back. By now, she was certain there were orders to terminate her on sight.
"You're so lucky. When I was a child, I got them all the time." She had too. She loved the water and rarely was away from it. The longer she swam, the more her skin burned when she got out to run around with the others.
"The triplets don't seem to burn. Although it could be that their great-grandmother slathers them with some concoction she's made from her natural pharmacy. She grows all sorts of plants and uses them for medicine. Quite a few people come to her for help. Wyatt, her son, is a doctor, and that helps because if she doesn't think she can help them, she makes certain he sees them." Another ghost of a smile. "Usually free of charge. Nonny likes to barter for services rendered."
She liked that little hint of a smile. It didn't do much to soften the features of his face, he looked as rough and tough as ever, but it did make him more human. She could stare at his face for the rest of her life. It was that perfect to her. She especially loved the sound of his voice. More and more she found herself in the swamp by the Fontenot compound, although it was insanity to keep going back there. It had been especially crazy to watch Nonny digging up dead black nightshade and then spying on her as the soldiers at Stennis turned her back from accessing the property where she needed to go to get the plant for her natural pharmacy.
Bellisia had dug it for her and then snuck onto the compound to leave it. She'd left a note under the plant warning the team of the dangers. Telling them about Violet's latest treachery. She should have done that and walked away, but she was already too intrigued with Ezekiel, those little girls and Nonny and she'd stayed. She still didn't know about the other members of his team, but she was very intrigued with Ezekiel and felt she had to warn him.
"What's a natural pharmacy?" She'd watched Nonny for hours dealing with various people coming to her door and leaving with powders in small bags.
He gave her a look that warned her she'd just treaded far too close to making a mistake. Her question didn't sit too well with him, as if she should already know the answer. She clamped her teeth down on her bottom lip hard. She didn't make mistakes. It was the only way she stayed alive. If she was making them now, it was because she was so enamored with him she couldn't think of anything else.
"Nonny was born and raised in the swamp. She grew up in a time when most people who were sick or injured consulted with the local traiteur, or healer. She trained, of course, because according to those living around her, she had the gift. She began transplanting plants from wherever they grew wild to an area of the swamp so she would have them together in one place. According to Nonny, each of these plants can cure or heal depending. She seems to know how to extract the right ingredients because her patients always come back. And doctors consult with her. Pharmacists as well. She's got quite a reputation."
She leaned her chin onto the heel of her hand. "However did you meet such a woman? She sounds so cool."
Nonny was cool. She always seemed genuine. Bellisia was desperate to meet her. To quit hiding and actually become part of something. She needed a purpose. She'd lived her entire life with purpose, and, although she loved it, just waitressing wasn't cutting it for her.
"Nonny is extraordinary," Ezekiel said. "She's the best woman I've ever known."
His voice said it all, said more than his words did. He admired and respected Nonny. More, he had affection for her, and Bellisia was certain he didn't have affection for that many people. More than ever she longed to meet Nonny.
"Is she related to you? Your grandmother?" she guessed.
His eyes flicked over her. Not drifted with that small exhilarating expression of interest--it was suspicion. He didn't like to be questioned. She hastily tried to back off, sending him a faint smile and placing both hands on the table to push herself up.
"I'm not good at this. I've always been awkward with getting to know someone. I'll just be quiet now and get back to work."
He put his hand over hers and instantly her veins ran with a thick, hot molasses, moving through her body slowly, scorching every cell along the way. She'd never felt such a sensation. It was both frightening and a little bit thrilling. The moment he touched her she sank back into the chair. She didn't mean to, she was blowing it being so close to him. She'd stalked him. Like a creeper. She had started out intending to make certain the men on GhostWalker Team Four were worth risking her life and freedom to save, but then she got caught up in their lives.
How could she not? They were loving to one another. Rough, but definitely very affectionate. They were protective of the three little girls and both women. Truthfully, the men were protective of one another. She'd formed friendships with the other girls, but there was only one she truly trusted. She wanted to trust the others and she cared about them, but she didn't have what Ezekiel had with his team and with Nonny. She wanted it. She just didn't know how to get there.
"I'm the one not very good at this," Ezekiel said softly.
His voice moved through her. That sound just tugged at her even when she didn't want it to. She had no business fantasizing about him, or even getting this close to him. It was dangerous for both of them. If he wasn't what she thought . . . If she'd miscalculated and he was an enemy, she'd have to kill him. And she would. She wouldn't want to, but she would.
"Nonny is actually a friend of mine's grandmother. She raised him as well as his brothers. I think she believes she's raising me now."
He sent her the same ghost of a smile that twisted her up inside. He was gorgeous. She even loved the scars on him. That rough five-o'clock shadow. She had no idea what she'd do with him if he were hers, but she still wanted him.
"She really does sound wonderful." There was a wistful note in her voice she couldn't hide and didn't bother to try. She wanted to give him as much truth as possible about her, because most of her was all about deceit.
"She can cook too." His gaze moved from her face to the shops across the way. "She sends me into the Quarter for the damnedest things. Spices. She makes quite a few of her own but then she has to have certain ones that you only find in that spice store over there. And it's always an emergency."
She liked the thread of affection in his voice, and the hint of humor. He really liked Nonny, and that made her soft inside when ordinarily that wasn't her way.
"My friend Zara loves to cook. When we were kids she used to sneak into the kitchen where the cook--her chef--was and beg him to let her cook with him. He always did it. Zara can be very persuasive when she wants something and she loves being in a kitchen." She stumbled over that one. She detested misleading him but she couldn't talk about mess halls and dormitories.
She suddenly realized his hand was still over hers. He hadn't moved it, but his thumb slid along her wrist, back and forth. Mesmerizing. A caress. She felt it all the way to her toes. He was far more dangerous to her than she first thought, because every time he touched her, he left more of his print behind. In her. As if somehow with a touch he'd branded her and it sank deep into her bones.
"Do you cook?"
She shook her head. "I never really had the opportunity to learn. And now I'm waitressing with zero chance of ever being a chef in a restaurant like this or really any other. I'd have to go to a school to learn."
"Nonny taught both Pepper and Cayenne. Pepper is my friend Wyatt's wife. Cayenne belongs to my friend Trap. Pepper seems to take to cooking, although we tease her a lot. My brothers especially. They alw
ays act like they might die when she's the cook, but they eat every single bit. No leftovers."
She loved hearing about his family. She didn't remove her hand from beneath his in spite of every instinct telling her to run while she had the chance. "And Cayenne?"
"Let's just say it's a good thing Trap can cook."
She burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. The way he shook his head as if Cayenne was a hopeless cause in the kitchen was hysterical.
"Nonny already has the three girls sitting in the kitchen with her when she's cooking, helping her. I hear her talk about the ingredients just as if they could do the family cooking, and they're only just about to turn two."
"Two?" Bellisia had observed the triplets interacting with various members of the family, and they seemed a lot older than two. They were small, but they talked as if they were seven or eight. Maybe even older than that. She'd put them down as very intelligent four-year-olds.
His thumb stopped moving and his eyes were once again on her face, not blinking. Alert. She'd definitely given her shock away. How to recover? "They were talking to you when you bought them the snowballs and they were using very big words. I guess I don't know much about children because I didn't think two-year-olds had that kind of vocabulary."
"Wyatt, their father, is a genius. The real deal. So is Pepper. I don't know much about children either, but my guess is, those girls come by their intelligence naturally."
His thumb was back, moving over her skin in an absent caress, as if he was unaware he was stroking along her inner wrist.
"You don't have children of your own?"
"Not married. Yet."
"Do you want children?" She couldn't stop herself. She tried to work up the necessary strength to pull her hand away, but this might be her only time. This moment. This fantasy. With this man. She wanted the dream even though she was smart enough to realize it was only that. There was no future for her. Not like Pepper or Cayenne.
She'd seen Pepper. She was gorgeous. Stunning. She'd seen Cayenne, and she was beautiful. She could see why Wyatt Fontenot and Trap had claimed them. Most of the team members were away now, so she hadn't had much time to study them, but the ones left behind guarded the women as if they were treasures, yet still treated them as equals. In fact, sometimes, it appeared as if everyone deferred to both Nonny and Pepper.
She wanted equality. She wanted freedom. She wanted this man. He even sang to the three little girls. He did it when no one was around to hear him, but he did it enough that they begged him to sing before bedtime. They clearly loved his stories and his songs. It was soul-destroying to see such a big man, tough and dangerous, being so loving and sweet with toddlers. It got to her every time.
More than him singing to the triplets, which was beautiful, it was his voice. The sound of it. He had a rough edge to his voice, speaking or singing, but so perfectly pitched. She could listen to him forever, and truthfully, she'd fantasized many times about him singing to her. In their bed. She had to fight to keep from blushing, but she managed.
"I think I have to meet your Nonny someday," she said. "If I'm lucky, she'll offer to give me cooking lessons. I'll be able to cross it off my list."
"Your list?" he echoed.
She hadn't meant to give that away, but she was happy he wasn't looking at her suspiciously so she nodded. "I made a list of things I'd like to learn."
"Before you die?"
She winced. The possibility of her dying was a strong one. Whitney would send someone to hunt her. He'd be angry that she got away, but he'd be livid that she didn't give him the information he wanted. He wouldn't think she had the right to be upset just because he'd almost killed her with his virus. Or that he'd held her a virtual prisoner for nearly her entire life. That wouldn't even make sense to him. She'd been an orphan. No one wanted her anyway. No one ever would. That was drilled into her and she believed it. She was . . . different. She'd always be different. Whitney had made her that way.
She ducked her head and pulled her hand out from under his, starting to rise. "I'd better get back to work. Thanks for letting me sit here with you."
"I want to see you again."
Her heart clenched in her chest. Her gaze jumped to his, was caught and held by his strange amber-colored eyes. They appeared almost gold right then, as if they could glow brilliantly if the sun hit him just right. She touched the tip of her tongue to her suddenly dry lips and once again subsided into the chair.
"I'm not good at relationships," she admitted, hedging for time. She needed to think about this. She wanted to be with him. To get to know him. What better way than to agree to see him? But how dangerous to both of them would it be? She needed to calculate the odds of their mutual survival.
"Neither am I."
"I would like to, really, but . . . I don't date. I don't know how."
That ghost of a smile appeared again and turned her insides to hot molasses. She felt a million butterflies take wing in her stomach, and deep in her core, she felt liquid heat and a terrible throbbing as if she could feel her heartbeat right through her sex.
"We won't call it a date then," Ezekiel said. "We'll just get together like this and talk. That can't be too hard for either of us."
His hand was back. That thumb. He had big hands, and the pad of his thumb took in a lot of territory on her sensitive wrist. She hadn't known her wrist was sensitive until that moment, but she felt every caressing stroke go right through her until it was hard to breathe with wanting him.
"Bellisia."
Her name in that soft, low voice. The one that sent streaks of fire racing through her body straight to her most feminine core. She was in so much trouble. No one had ever made her feel the way he did. She was in over her head. All that time spying on him, watching him with Nonny and the triplets. With his brothers.
She loved the way he moved. He was light on his feet for such a powerful man. All corded but long muscle so that he could move fast and silently. He went into the swamp, no hesitation, as if he'd been born there. Some nights she'd watch him leap up onto the roof, rifle in hand, ready to protect those he called family. He'd actually crouch low and just make the jump, something she couldn't do. She could climb easily, but he was so fast because he was strong enough to make the leap.
"I'm swamped at work for the next few days, but give me your number. I'll call you when I can get away."
"I don' have a phone."
His eyes darkened to antique gold, not with suspicion, but with something altogether different. Concern. Definite worry.
She wrapped herself in that. No one had ever looked at her that way. "You can get me at work." She couldn't believe she was doing such an insane thing, but she wrote down the number of the little restaurant and handed it to him. Before she could change her mind, Bellisia pulled her hand away and got to her feet. "Your gumbo is cold. I'll get you another bowl."
"That's all right. I still have to get Nonny's spices before the store closes." He dropped bills on the table and lifted a hand.
She watched him walk away, totally mesmerized by how fluid he appeared. How his muscles rippled beneath the tight tee stretched across his chest and back. How the jeans cupped his butt. His body looked powerful. Several women turned to watch him as well and she felt the first stirrings of an emotion she'd never felt before. Jealousy. Pure and simple--jealousy. She didn't want him looking back at them--and he didn't. She knew he saw them because nothing escaped his notice, but he didn't look at the women. Not like he'd looked at her. She hugged that knowledge to herself and would for a very long time.
4
"Gentlemen, let me welcome our colleagues from Indonesia, Kopaska Group 5, to the Navy training facilities here at the John Stennis Space Center in the state of Mississippi," Senior Chief Petty Officer Ben Wallace said. "They are the elite of their navy. We will be assisting them in the rescue."
Stennis Space Center was the second largest space center in the United States with 220 square miles of land. Of that land, the
re were 140,000 acres that no one resided on and 138 acres where people worked. A wildlife preserve, it had black bear, deer, wild boar and bald eagles as well as a wide variety of other animals.
Stennis had its own zip code, and 5,400 people worked on the site. There was a farmer's market every other week, a bank, a post office, a hair salon, a coffee shop, child care, a full-service car station, a Navy Exchange Station and its own security department.
It also was home to the SWCC--Special Warfare Combat Craft. Ezekiel loved Stennis for that alone. Those were the soldiers he knew he could count on to bring them safely home should there be trouble. He knew them by name and admired every single one of them.
The Nasciats program, training military from other countries, was a good one. Their barracks were next to the barracks for the members of the teams training with them, but fortunately--or unfortunately--because Ezekiel was a GhostWalker, he wasn't under the same orders as the other teams. He could go home at night. He had women and children to protect. Women and children who were lethal and still a part of the military program.
They were shorthanded during the day. With most of his team out in the field, that left only four GhostWalkers, and he needed them helping him train the six-man team joining with a twelve-man SEAL team from the United States. Cayenne was the security force when they were gone. He tried to leave at least one man home to help her, but he needed them now that they'd gone from the war room to the active field.
Ezekiel nodded to the six Indonesian soldiers, the twelve SEALs and Draden, Gino and Mordichai, who would be joining him on the mission.
"Five weeks ago a joint security team under the United Nations came under fire by a radical Islamic terror cell operating inside of Indonesian borders. During the engagement, three soldiers were taken hostage--two Indonesians and an American. We're together to train for and undertake a mission to rescue these men," Senior Chief Petty Officer Wallace continued.
"We will be aided by the Navy's esteemed Special Boat Team 22. They will be part of the mission we will deploy to Indonesia as one team along with four members of an elite pararescue team who are here to oversee this training. We know two of the prisoners are in bad shape, and we need our PJs on this operation. Captain Ezekiel Fortunes Doctor will be in charge of your training." Wallace gestured toward him, and Ezekiel nodded again as Wallace stepped back to give him the floor.
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