by Vanessa Kier
He sighed. “That’s what the rest of the team said. Still, it…” His throat closed up. “It haunts me.”
“Of course. You lost people you cared about. People you respected. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you dealt with.” She stroked her hand down his chest and, oddly enough, he felt some of his grief ease.
“So what happened next?”
He cleared his throat. He figured Dietrich knew most of the rest, so telling Emily didn’t put her at too much risk. Plus, he needed to tell her. To have her know why he’d eventually gone off on his own, so that if he died in the next couple of days she wouldn’t judge him harshly. “We discovered that the weapons used by the terrorists in the ambush had been supplied by Dietrich. When we passed on the intel we were warned by our superiors to ignore it. That it was being handled by another team and any action on our part could screw up that operation. But Dietrich’s name kept popping up as the arms dealer supplying the local terrorist cells, making it clear that no one was working to take him down.” His heart beat faster as he remembered. “I was furious when I realized that no one was investigating the ambush. That the deaths of our teammates were being swept under the carpet.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged and forced the roil of emotions away. “Before our team could decide what to do about our suspicions, a man approached me with an intriguing job offer. He represented a deep black ops government unit with unconventional rules.” He glanced at Emily to see if she understood. At her puzzled look, he explained, “Black ops are such ultra secret operations that no one not directly involved even knows they exist. Capturing high value targets. Rescuing U.S. personnel. Destroying enemy assets. Missions that never make the news, even when they prevent thousands of deaths. The man promised that if I joined this group, not only would I have free rein to go after Dietrich, but I’d have the unit’s full support. He was recruiting only the brightest, most unconventional members of the military and law enforcement.”
“So you accepted.”
“Yes. But every time we got close to Dietrich, he managed to escape. Either something went wrong on our end that prevented us from carrying out our mission—strange equipment failures when we’d double checked everything, failure of our backup to arrive—or we arrived and discovered that Dietrich and his men had fled. I suspected that someone on our side was sabotaging our missions in order to protect Dietrich.”
Emily’s hand clenched on his shirt.
“I began to doubt the competence of those in charge. Because only a handful of people knew we even existed, let alone were privy to actual mission data, it should have been simple to ferret out the traitor. He was either one of my teammates, or one of the people who gave us our missions. Unfortunately, the ones who’d founded our group had hidden themselves behind a thick layer of secrecy. Even the man who recruited me only knew them as the Consortium. Finally, my team decided to go after Dietrich without notifying anyone in command. Again, I helped plan the mission. This time, it went down without a hitch. We managed to screw up a big deal Dietrich had scheduled. Took down his buyer and captured Dietrich. His right hand man, Ziegler, was wounded but managed to get away.” Max had been part of the squad in charge of clearing out the building. Sometimes he wondered if things would have been different if he’d instead been assigned to guard Dietrich.
“En route to headquarters, the convoy transporting Dietrich and the other prisoners came under attack. Several vehicles crashed and burned. Dietrich was reported dead, although his body was never recovered. Our unit’s commander was killed. My gut told me that we’d been betrayed again. That someone on the secondary team—the ones responsible for taking Dietrich and the other prisoners away—had relayed the convoy’s route to Dietrich’s sponsor. I believed the crash had been staged and that Dietrich was alive, but without proof, our new commander didn’t want to hear it.”
“Did you ever figure out which man had leaked the route?”
“No. With Dietrich supposedly dead, my team was kept busy with other missions. I continued to investigate whenever I found the time, since part of my job was doing research and analyzing data.”
“You were an analyst? Not a soldier?”
He shook his head. “Both. In order to be a quick-deploy unit, we were cross-trained on all aspects of a mission, from gathering intel to taking down a target with a sniper rifle. My strengths were analysis, planning, and covert infiltration. I didn’t have the patience to be a good sniper, lying in the dirt all day without moving.”
Emily snorted. “That, I can see.”
“Smart aleck.”
“So what happened next?”
“The team never clicked with our new leader. Most of us were former military and he’d come from the FBI, which has a different mental outlook. Plus, he cared a little too much about following the rules, when our team had been founded on the promise of freedom from rules. Morale quickly deteriorated. Our missions started to change. The targets weren’t the clear and present danger we were used to. Several of us began to suspect that Dietrich’s sponsor was trying to undermine the effectiveness of our team, yet we still couldn’t break through that firewall and find out the identities of the men in the Consortium. When almost half our team was injured on a mission that felt more like political posturing than a genuine attempt to make the world a safer place, several members, including my co-leader Kristoff, quit.”
“But you stayed. Why?”
“Because despite the changes, we still had the occasional success. As team leader, I’d been shielding the guys from a lot of the crap the commander threw at us. If I left, they would have been directly in the line of fire.”
If he’d given up, he would’ve felt like a failure. His brother had continued to be promoted within the Marines. Wil was the one their father spoke of with with pride. Max… Well, his father didn’t know Max’s real job. His cover with Unit 3 had been as a folklore professor. He’d supposedly been traveling the world in order to draw parallels between what values a population expressed through story and the economic and political structure of their society. He hadn’t been able to tell his father the truth about his work at Unit 3, so Max’s lack of advancement at the university only reinforced his father’s view that his oldest son had lost his ambition.
Max had consoled himself with the knowledge that his work made the world a safer place, even if his father would never be aware of the truth. Max had believed that his work mattered. Had known that he’d conducted himself with honor and integrity despite the violent world he operated in.
Then his commander had been killed and Max began to question everything about his work at Unit 3.
“You’re very loyal,” Emily said. “That’s a good thing.”
He scowled and cleared his throat. “About six months after Dietrich’s supposed death, I was working in the office. I zoomed in on a digital photo as part of my research for an upcoming operation and spotted Dietrich in the background.” The sense of elation that he’d been right, that the arms dealer was alive, and the anticipation of finally going after Dietrich had made his heart pound. “This was late at night and only a few night shift workers were around. Since I didn’t trust my commander, I downloaded the file and took it home. I needed time to think how best to proceed. Who I could trust with this discovery.”
“Taking the file was that easy?”
He snorted. “What made our team unique was that they’d recruited highly intelligent, extremely creative thinkers. Men and women labeled as mavericks by the military or law enforcement. They trained us in all aspects of covert operations and then put us into teams where we formed ironclad bonds. As the years progressed, internal security became lax. I think the higher-ups believed that our team cohesion would keep us honest. And for the most part, it worked. They hadn’t counted on me realizing that our leadership was corrupt. So while it wasn’t simple to take the data home with me, it wasn’t as difficult as it should have been.” He paused, remembering how calm he’d bee
n despite knowing he could be arrested for what he was doing. “When I returned to the office the next morning, I discovered that the file had been deleted.”
“Oh, no. Were you in danger of being found out?”
“I didn’t think so. I’d been careful and erased any sign that I’d accessed the file. Still, it convinced me that I couldn’t trust my superiors. But I knew that if I quit, I didn’t have the resources to track Dietrich on my own. One of my former teammates had migrated to the FBI, so I set up a meeting with him. Only, he never showed. He was reported killed in a car accident the morning I was supposed to meet him.”
“What did you do?”
“Destroyed all evidence that I’d contacted him. Created and hid so many backup copies of the file that it would take a long time for someone to track them all down. I returned to the office, fully expecting that a hit team would come after me. But whatever alarm my friend had triggered apparently didn’t apply to me, because no one tried to kill me.” He’d kept working, wondering how much longer he could pretend that everything was normal.
“Then, two days later, the base where my brother Wil was stationed in Afghanistan was attacked.” And going after Dietrich had no longer been the most important thing in his life. “Wil lost both his lower legs in the explosion.”
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
Max stroked Emily’s hair. “I took leave to go to the hospital where they were treating him. When I returned, one of my contacts notified me that the security team had caught one of the militants responsible. He fingered Dietrich as the one who’d supplied both the intelligence and the weapons needed for the attack. I asked to be assigned to the multi-agency task force investigating the attack, but my commander denied my request.” It had taken every ounce of Max’s control not to send his fist into his commander’s face that day. “I even tried going around him by reaching out directly to the agent in charge. I told him that my team had years of research on Dietrich and that I’d be happy to share if he’d let me join the task force. He responded that the earlier information about Dietrich being behind the attack had been incorrect. That Dietrich was dead and he didn’t need my help.”
“You didn’t believe him.”
“Right. I immediately turned in my resignation and have been after Dietrich ever since. Ruining his deals when I can. Trying to pin him down so I can turn him in.” Kill him, if possible. To do so, Max had immersed himself in the international arms arena. Dealt with some of the most vicious low-lifes on the planet in order to get the intel he needed.
It had left him feeling dirty in a way years as a soldier hadn’t.
“Retrieving the stolen weapon plans and prototype won’t just damage Dietrich’s reputation,” he continued, “but will save lives. If rumor is correct, the group he’s dealing with intends to use the prototype against an American military base or diplomatic mission somewhere in West Africa. Wil is stationed at our compound in the Greater Niger Republic.”
“So getting the prototype back is a way of protecting your brother.”
“Yeah.”
“And you say you’re not a hero.” She patted his chest. He opened his mouth to protest, but she continued. “Where does that underground group fit into this?”
“Remember how I mentioned my partner, Kristoff? He and most of my former teammates formed their own private special operations group. When they realized that the situation here in West Africa has international security implications if the region becomes a future haven for terrorist groups, they joined the underground.”
“Why aren’t you working with them to take down Dietrich?”
“Because Dietrich’s sponsor has a powerful reach. I can’t risk that there will be arrest warrants taken out on Kris’s team and that U.S. military and law enforcement assets will be assigned to hunt them down.” He cleared his throat. “Instead of letting me go, my superiors ignored my resignation and labeled me as AWOL. This despite the fact that our contract said we could leave at any time. The only conditions were that we weren’t in the middle of a mission and that we’d promise to uphold the secrecy clause after we left.”
“Which is why you didn’t want to approach the embassy.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re acting on your own in order to keep your friends safe.”
“Damn straight.” He would protect his family and friends at any cost. Now and always.
“But who’s protecting you, Max?”
“I don’t need protection. I just need Dietrich out of service. If I have to sacrifice my career to do it, I’m okay with that.” In fact, he wasn’t entirely certain he’d live through a confrontation with Dietrich. But as long as the bastard got what was coming to him, Max would willingly give up his life.
Emily made a sound of protest, almost as if she’d read his mind. “Shh. Enough of that,” he said. “Do you think you can sleep now?”
“Are you kidding me? After you’ve told me such a tale of intrigue and betrayal?” Yet even as she spoke, she yawned.
“Put it out of your mind. We’ve got to get back on the road first thing in the morning. You need your rest.” He moved his hand in circles over her back, hoping to soothe her to sleep.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “Escorting me down to the capital really screwed up your timeline, didn’t it?”
“I wasn’t about to leave you on your own. I’m not that much of a bastard.”
“I don’t think you’re a bastard at all. You’re a good man at heart, Max Lansing. Which is why I’m going to stick around and help you find the plane. Two of us searching will accomplish the task faster than one.”
“Hell, no. I’m taking you over the border.”
“Mmm…no.” Emily’s words slurred together. Moments later, her breathing evened out into sleep.
Good man? Him?
She was so wrong.
Day Six
WHEN MAX AWOKE the next morning, soft gray light filtered into the interior of the Jeep. Emily slept beside him with her head on his chest. Her right hand had slipped around to the side of his waist, holding him in place. He liked that she still wanted to be close to him despite him unloading his past on her last night. Liked the idea that maybe she’d been feeling a little possessive of him.
Because he sure as hell was starting to feel like she belonged to him.
Emily shifted against him, yawned, then opened her eyes. Catching him watching her, her cheeks flared hot. “I’m sorry, I must be getting heavy. Your poor ribs.” She attempted to pull back, but Max tightened his arms.
“Stay,” he murmured.
She froze, uncertainty and embarrassment warring in her eyes. She probably didn’t realize it, but her hand had risen to cover her scars.
Max gently pried her fingers away from her neck, hating that this strong, resilient woman would in any way feel self-conscious around him. Then, holding her hand firmly enough that she couldn’t tug it free, he lifted his head and placed a kiss on the center of the damaged skin.
Emily inhaled sharply.
He pulled back. “Did that hurt?”
She looked at him through wide eyes. “N-no. I…” She bit her lip and Max almost groaned. He wanted to take that plump little pillow into his own mouth and suck.
“If it didn’t hurt, why did you gasp?” He kissed her scars again. “Why is your breathing faster?”
She gave a little hum of pleasure as his tongue touched a ridge of scar tissue. “I…” She gasped again. “I…” Her eyelashes fluttered as he scraped his teeth lightly along the scars.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“I…ah…yes…there…I…”
Max smiled against her skin and moved his tongue back over to the spot she liked best, licking and nipping at the skin as he tested what amount of pressure made her crazy.
“Oh…my…God…” Her fingers spasmed in his grip and her back arched just a little.
“Hmm… I’m guessing you have a few places with full or even increased sensation. Am I
right?” he asked as he finished mapping out the final contour of her scars and lifted his head to plot his next move.
“Um…yeah. Most of the area is numb, but there are a few sensitive places.” The heavy lidded, dazed gaze she gave him shot straight to his already hard cock. “But Max,” she blinked and her eyes focused, “you’re hurt. We should stop.”
He let go of her hand to run his fingers over her hair. Then he gently took her head between his palms and brought her mouth to hover over his. Before their lips touched, he said, “You’re so beautiful.” He stroked one finger down her cheek. Even with the dirt and sweat her skin here was so smooth, so soft. “You’re so damn sexy. I’ve been wanting your mouth on mine since the second we ended the last kiss. If you kiss me again, I won’t feel a bit of pain. Promise.”
He held his breath as she hesitated, hoping he hadn’t judged her wrong. But then her tongue darted out to wet her lips, her eyes dropped to his mouth and he knew he’d been right. She needed to have a sense of control.
A moment later she pressed her lips to his.
The kiss started off tentatively, which didn’t do a thing to stop his body from jerking as if he’d been prodded with a live wire. It took all his self-control not to haul her against him and take her mouth fast and hard. He needed her on a gut deep level he didn’t understand. He needed her honesty. Needed her compassion and her courage to remind him that there was more to life than revenge.
Wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her body, absorbing her passion until he felt cleansed.
But most importantly, he needed her trust.
Emily sighed and relaxed against him. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips, and when he opened, she began a lazy exploration of his mouth. Max held back at first, not wanting to frighten her, but when she angled her head for a deeper kiss, his control slipped. One hand settled on the back of her head, helping her find the right position so that he could delve into her mouth and taste her unique essence of innocence and grit.
His other hand roamed down her back, searching for the hem of her shirt. When he found it, he slipped underneath until his fingers met bare skin. While their mouths explored, Max stroked the silky skin of her back, walking his fingers along her spine until he met the barrier of her bra.
