Special Forces: The Spy

by Cindy Dees

  “In my line of work? That’s all I do.” He drew his fingertips down her body slowly, starting at her throat, caressing her neck, stroking down the valley between her breasts, then down her belly, culminating in a delicious stroke between the soft folds of her feminine flesh that had her arching up off the mattress and struggling to remember the thread of their conversation.

  With some effort, she managed to say a bit breathlessly, “It would make sense in your private life if you wanted complete control and predictability.”

  Toying with the hard little pearl of her desire, and stealing at least forty points off her IQ in the process, he commented, “I like control and predictability, but not like how you mean them. It’s rare that I get to turn off my internal alarms and be fully at ease. That’s what I crave. Safety, so I can relax.”

  “What do you like to do when you’re fully at ease, Mr. Cosworth?”

  “I’d rather show you,” he whispered as his lips closed on a rosy peak of her breast and laved it into a tight little bud.

  “Feel free,” she gasped.

  “Mmm. I’d like to spend weeks wooing you.” A gentle suck and a flick of his tongue made her cry out. He continued, “I would take you out to nice dinners. Some movie nights. Maybe a concert or two.”

  “You wouldn’t want to stay in? Be unseen?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he lavished the same attention on her other breast until she was nearly sobbing in need. Then he murmured, “I know this great jazz club in DC that I’d love to show you—”

  She interrupted him, tugging his head up to her mouth so she could kiss him, showing him just how desperate she was for him to get on with business. “I appreciate your willingness to put in some time on me—”

  He interrupted in turn. “You’re not a project to be managed and completed. But I want you to be comfortable with me. To feel safe.”

  “Me? I feel plenty safe. I could incapacitate or kill you in any number of ways, thank you.”

  He rolled onto his back beside her and laughed under his breath. “God. I never thought I’d hear a woman in my bed say that.”

  It was her turn to wince. “I’m sorry. I suck at romance.”

  “Lucky for you, I don’t,” he replied, humor vibrating in his voice.

  “I sincerely appreciate you planning out how you would romance me, but all I really want is you.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t have any interest at all in romance?” he responded, sounding surprised.

  “Oh, I love being romanced as much as the next girl. But I have a weird sense of what constitutes romance.”

  “Like what?”

  “I thought you letting me use the restroom after I tried to escape from you that first morning was shockingly chivalrous. And you always fed me and made sure I had plenty of water. You helped me out of the van and checked to make sure my handcuffs didn’t chafe my wrists. You covered me with a blanket when I passed out in the basement.”

  “You caught all that, huh?”

  She answered softly, “Yeah. I did. And thank you.”

  Frustration crept into his voice. “I felt so damned helpless to protect you. I wanted to tell you who I was so you wouldn’t feel alone and you would know you were going to make it out of there, but I worried that you would slip up if they put you under enough duress and that you might reveal who I was.”

  She smiled up at him. “We Medusas are tougher than we look.”

  “Oh, yeah? And here I was thinking you’re so much softer than I expected.”

  “Hey! I stay in good shape!”

  He grinned down at her, stroking his palm across her stomach and up to cup her breast gently. “I dunno. You feel like all woman to me.” His mouth hovered barely a millimeter from hers. “And I love the idea of a woman who’s strong and fit and capable, too.”

  “You’re just saying that because you want in my panties,” she teased.

  “Darlin’, we’re already way past your panties.”

  “I dunno. You’re spending a whole lot of time talking and not getting busy.”

  He laughed down at her. “You did not just challenge my manhood.”

  “I might have...”

  Their laughter mingled as they kissed, gradually transforming into something more serious. More passionate.

  But still he moved slowly, treating her with care. She appreciated him taking it slow with her. It gave her plenty of time to check in with herself and make sure nothing along the way freaked her out.

  She loved the way his hard body pressed her down into the mattress. His muscular thighs tangling with hers were sexy as hell. And when his hard, hot length filled her ever so slowly, the only thing that went through her mind was a wish that he would go faster and deeper and harder.

  She moved against him experimentally, and it was good. Very good. Bordering on outstanding, in fact.

  They found a rhythm easily this time, their bodies accustomed to each other and finding synchronicity immediately. She had time to register liking being tall enough that their bodies fitted so nicely and to register liking that he was fully as strong and fit as she was, which made her feel at ease showing her eagerness for more from him. She wrapped her legs around his hips and welcomed him into her strong embrace, and he met her on equal ground.

  Gradually, he let go of the caution he was exercising with her and unleashed his full passion into their lovemaking. And that was when it blew right past outstanding into the realm of epic.

  They were unabashedly athletic with each other, surging into each other until their bodies were slick with perspiration and they were both gasping for air. Riding a wave they built between them, they rushed all the way to completion, a lovely race with only winners and no losers.

  The pleasure built and built until it finally toppled over, crashing down around them in delicious destruction that left her breathless, her limbs languid, and her mind and soul sated.

  It was fully as magical as she remembered, maybe even better this time around because they were more comfortable with each other, not to mention they were dry and warm and in a proper bed. Not that she minded sleeping on the ground or sprawled across his chest as the case might be. But this was better.

  And falling asleep cuddled up next to Zane, replete with pleasure and relaxed with knowing he would look out for her while she rested, was even better yet.

  Chapter 16

  Zane woke up gradually, reveling lazily in the happiness that washed over him. That was not a feeling he really ever ascribed to himself. But he was definitely feeling great tonight. It was a weird contrast with his normal wake up, where his mind would turn immediately to the day’s work, to the threats at hand, to remembering the identity he was supposed to be living in from the moment he opened his eyes and started his day.

  Happiness had no place in his work, and his work had been his life for a decade or more.

  But there were no immediate threats at hand, and the only identity he had to assume was the rather unfamiliar one of Zane Cosworth. Even better, the only work at hand was to enjoy the amazing woman sharing his bed.

  What had he been missing, denying himself this feeling for so long? Piper brought up a good point. Was doing his duty to the exclusion of all else really worth it? Was there a way to make time for happiness—for her—in his life, too? Could he have his job and a personal life?

  It would take exactly the right woman to be sure. One who understood the importance of his work and how much it meant to him. One willing to sacrifice time with him, willing to put up with long silences when he was undercover, willing to worry and wait and have faith that he would survive and make it home once more.

  A woman like Piper.

  If only she would give him some indication that she was willing to consider a longer-term relationship than just this time together. But she’d never said a single
word about what came after this mission.

  He got that people like the two of them needed to live in the moment. They both needed to be able to focus completely on the task at hand, on the dangers directly in front of them. It was how they both stayed alive in their respective lines of work.

  Her house had been cozy. Clearly a personal and private sanctuary, not set up for anyone else to share. He knew: he’d searched the place for pictures of other men. For hints about her family, about her past, about her life before the kidnapping. The place had been completely bare of any such mementos.

  Yup, she was an operator through and through. Her life revolved one hundred percent around her work.

  Exactly like his life revolved around his work.

  Or more accurately, like it had until he’d met her.

  Huh. He’d never expected to fall for a woman who hadn’t fallen for him first. He was always the one to break things off, to move on to the next mission, to the next identity, to the next false life.

  But Piper made him think about settling down. About resuming life as Zane Cosworth. About home. Family. Love. All the things he’d given up and hadn’t realized he missed until this very moment.

  “You’re thinking pretty hard over there, sailor,” Piper interrupted from her pillow beside his.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “You didn’t. I set a silent alarm on my watch to wake me up, and it’s due to vibrate in a few minutes. My mental alarm clock usually beats my watch by five minutes or so.”

  He glanced over at her quickly. “Why did you set an alarm for half past midnight?”

  “Mark Black is supposed to show up for his Monday morning briefing in a few minutes.”

  Right. The mission.

  Obviously, for Piper the mission came first, and Zane came in a distant second.

  The realization tasted bitter in his mouth. Not that he could blame her. It was just strange wearing the shoe on the other foot. He was always the one who made the glib excuse, slipped out of the woman’s bed and disappeared, never to look back. But tonight, it was her citing the mission to slip out of bed, collect her clothes and efficiently get dressed.

  Zane rolled out of bed and pulled on clothes, as well. No way was Mark Black showing up for that meeting. And when the guy was officially declared missing, a manhunt would be initiated. Quietly. Which meant the CIA would probably green-light the op Torsten had proposed to find the guy.

  Piper’s phone rang, and they both stared at it.

  Then she jolted into motion and picked it up, listening for a few seconds. “Roger. On my way,” she replied. She disconnected the call.

  “Black didn’t show up, did he?” Zane asked.

  “Nope.”

  “I’d better get back to my room. My phone’s going to blow up in a minute or two.”

  She nodded, her face set in serious lines, her mind obviously already at work on what came next.

  He kissed her quickly and left, striding down the hall and slipping into his room.

  Must not look back.

  Let her go.

  No regrets.

  Maybe in another time, another place, they could’ve been good together for a long time. Maybe a lifetime. But duty called them both.

  He’d been in his room perhaps thirty seconds when someone knocked quietly on his door. He opened it cautiously, leaving the chain on and barely cracking it open.

  Shit. Gunnar Torsten.

  He threw the door open.

  “Five minutes. Out front,” Gunnar murmured.

  “I’ll be there.”

  As Zane closed his door, he heard Gunnar knocking quietly on another door down the hall.

  Zane used three of his five minutes to leap into the shower and try to wash Piper off his skin, out of his heart, out of his life.

  It didn’t work.

  He swiped a razor across his cheeks, tossed the razor in his prepacked bag and was out the door with a minute to spare. He jogged down the hall and took the stairs, arriving in the lobby exactly five minutes after Gunnar’s knock.

  A dark blue government van was just pulling up, and the three Medusas and Torsten nodded to him.

  “Where’s Beau?” he asked.

  Piper murmured, “He’s gone home to plan the party from his end.”

  They piled into the vehicle, and he was surprised when the van didn’t head down I-395 toward the Pentagon. Rather, it wound north, ending up on Rock Creek Parkway.

  “Are we going to Langley?” he blurted in surprise.

  Gunnar nodded. “Your guys are going to be running this show. They want you and Piper involved, since you have personal knowledge of possible operators involved.”

  He and Piper? They got to work together on this op? Yes. His gut leaped with joy. A little longer to savor what could have been before it was ripped away from them for good. Hell, he was so desperate to be with her that he would take whatever morsels of time he could snatch with her.

  It took several minutes to pass all their government IDs through the window to the gate guard and for them to be waved through to the parking area at CIA headquarters. He had only his fake IDs generated for the Amir legend, but those were on file, and he was approved to enter without delay.

  He led the way through long corridors to the briefing room the guy at the front desk told them to report to.

  It was a bland conference room with bland paneling and bland furniture that belied none of the massive technology and intelligence resources pulsing around them in this, the living brain of the US intelligence apparatus.

  A bland-looking man in a suit walked into the room, and Zane recognized one of the senior Iran analysts, a guy several pay grades above him, Dominic Farris.

  Dominic nodded at Zane and said in a bland tone, “Welcome back. Good work on your recent mission rescuing Captain Ford.”

  Zane snorted. “It’s entirely possible that she ultimately rescued me.”

  Piper’s gaze snapped to his, and he belatedly realized that his comment could be taken both literally and figuratively. He shrugged, silently owning both interpretations.

  Torsten leaned forward, asking Dominic, “What can you tell us about Mark Black?”

  The analyst picked up a remote control, and a section of the paneling slid back to reveal a backlit screen. An awkward official portrait of a man in perhaps his midthirties, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and an ill-fitting suit, popped up on the screen. It could’ve been straight out of a high school yearbook were it not for the guy’s age.

  “Mark Black. Nuclear physicist and propulsion engineer by education. Senior field inspector for the Global Atomic Inspection Team, or GAIT. He has been in Iran for three months, monitoring and inspecting various facilities there for GAIT. His boss is this man, René Descarnes. French. Long-time Interpol asset. Sharp guy.”

  Zane leaned forward as a picture of Black walking on the street he recognized to be in Tehran flashed up on screen. “And Black? Is he an asset to anyone?”

  “Not officially. Obviously, his GAIT reports come across our desks, compliments of Descarnes. But Black’s just a nuclear inspector.”

  Piper interjected, “Then why was his wife targeted for kidnapping?”

  “Black is scheduled to be the first inspector inside a new Iranian scientific facility in a few days. Place is called the Iranian Center for Materials Research. We believe her—your—kidnapping—” he nodded in Piper’s direction “—was an attempt to pressure him into not reporting something the Iranians expect him to see at that facility.”

  “Like what?” Zane asked quickly.

  Dominic shrugged. “We can speculate all day long, but until Black gets inside those labs, we’ll have no way of knowing.”

  “Where is Black now?”

  “We believe he’s a guest of the Iranian government.” />
  “Meaning what?” Torsten snapped.

  “Meaning they will hold him in their custody until he has inspected the facility and issued the report they want him to make.”

  Torsten asked briskly, like the military man he was, “What’s our mission?”

  “Go to Tehran. Find Mark Black. Let him go to the Center for Materials Research and, after he’s out, retrieve him and bring him home. We need to know what he sees in there. While you’re at it, make sure he knows his wife is safe. He may not cooperate with you otherwise. Once you’ve got Black’s debrief, at all costs, he must not fall back into the hands of the Iranian government. We do not want a high-value hostage situation to develop.”

  Zane leaned back hard in his chair. Damn. The powers that be wanted Black dead rather than in Iranian hands? Just what did the CIA think was inside that lab, anyway?

  “Any other mission parameters?” Torsten asked briskly.

  “Don’t get caught.”

  Torsten threw Dominic a “duh” look. “That’s why we’re here. The Medusas specialize in being invisible. Speaking of which, do you have your own plan in place to get this team into Iran, or are we on our own to arrange it?”

  “Did you have something in mind?” Dominic asked with interest.

  Torsten grinned, and Zane was struck by how wolflike an expression it was. The major continued, “Yes, actually we do. An air show is scheduled to start in Tehran the day after tomorrow. Business jets are being flown in by all the big global airplane manufacturers to Mehrabad International Airport downtown and shown off to various government officials. The Iranian government plans to buy a new fleet of small jets and is accepting bids from companies all over the world.”

  “And?” Dominic asked.

  “We’d like to fly in on one of those jets. We’ll pose as crew members and corporate representatives, which will give us a reason to be in Tehran and to be doing nothing for most of our time in country while we wait to fly the jet out. We’ll use real pilots to fly the plane, of course. They can fly any demonstrations Iranian officials want.”

  “And you’ll bring Mark Black out on that plane with you?” Dominic asked.