by Dana Marton
He couldn’t see the Humvee anywhere. The guys in it probably hadn’t been keen on tangling with the local authorities who didn’t like them in the first place.
He kept an eye out for them as he drove the main road out of town, toward Kabul. Kept checking the rearview mirror, scanning not just the road but the sidewalks and the rooftops as well. He didn’t want any nasty little surprises.
* * *
Allison didn’t sit up until he told her they were safe.
Then she started shaking, her muscles trembling, disobeying her will.
“Just breathe slowly and evenly. You’ll be fine.” Jake reached over and took her hand.
His touch and the confident look he gave her had magical effect. She relaxed as she held his gaze. “Sorry.”
“You had a pretty rough couple of days.” He squeezed her hand then let her go to hold on to the steering wheel with both hands.
She missed his touch immediately.
And it hit her that in a couple of hours he would drop her off at the airport and she would never see him again. The thought squeezed her chest.
“So what’s next for you?” she asked, not sure if he would be at liberty to tell her.
“I’m going back to the U.S. with you. I got the information I was looking for here.”
Her heart thrilled. So they had a few more hours to the airport, then the length of the flight.
Still not enough.
Sure, they’d spent the last few days together, but they’d spent so much time running for their lives, they’d barely even talked. Other than having some sketchy ideas about his top secret job, she barely knew anything about him.
“You said you have two sisters?”
“Mandy and Jasmine.”
“And they’ll be safe now?”
“Soon.” His features were etched with determination.
He clearly felt protective of his sisters, making no secret of the fact that he cared a great deal about them. She liked that about him.
She also liked that he thought her strong and capable and treated her like a partner. She really, really liked it when he kissed her. Liked it down to her toes.
Her gaze fell to his mouth.
Her own lips tingled.
She asked him more about his sisters, about his Army days. And as she listened to him talk, his voice soothed her.
* * *
Exhaustion knocked her out and she slept through most of the four-hour drive to the capital city. He couldn’t blame her. The only surprise was that she hadn’t crashed sooner. Neither of them had slept any the night before and she’d had one shock after the other. She needed the rest.
And he was grateful that she slept.
Otherwise, he would have been tempted to pull her over onto his lap and kiss her senseless, which would have been pretty hazardous driving, considering the rough roads.
He used some of the time to call Gabe and Troy and bring them up to date.
“Let me get this straight,” Gabe said, his voice clipped with anger. “XO-ST brings civilians onto the team for a month, gives them some roughshod training then takes them on patrol and lets them take shots if they’re willing to pay for the privilege?”
“Combat tourism.” Jake’s blood boiled all over again just from saying the phrase. He would put an end to that, if it was the last thing he did.
“The ultimate adrenaline shot. For those who liked to play those shoot‘em up video games when they were kids, but didn’t have the actual balls to join the military when they grew up,” Troy added, then swore in that distinctive, raspy voice of his.
According to Gabe, Troy’s vocal cords had been damaged in the same explosion that had scarred his face and killed the woman he loved. Troy never talked about the incident. Gabe had told Jake only as a warning so he wouldn’t start asking questions.
He glanced over at Allison, grateful to see her safe and right next to him.
“So now we know that Brent Foley blackmailed Congressman Wharton with his little brother’s participation in this. But we still have no hard proof that Wharton knew about combat tourism,” Troy summed up their problem.
“At least we have enough information to close down XO-ST,” Jake said, not without a little satisfaction. They had rosters of the teams with civilian names mixed in with the professionals. They had Kenneth Hatch’s death.
“We’ll bring Wharton down, too,” Gabe promised, “now that we know what we’re looking for.”
“How did Foley blackmail him?” Jake asked as the question occurred to him. “Phone? Email? There has to be a record.”
They would bring Wharton down, because they had no other choice. They had to get him before he came after them.
And even if Wharton wasn’t a personal threat, Jake could never let him go now. He’d known about the combat tourism. A high level politician sworn to uphold American values, he’d known about the hideous damn thing and had done nothing to end it.
“I’ll see if I can find how Foley contacted Wharton,” Troy promised. “There has to be some kind of a trail.”
After the call ended, Jake took a few minutes to let his seething anger die down a little, then dialed the airport and booked tickets on the next flight out.
Since the plane wouldn’t leave until a few minutes after midnight, he reserved a hotel room as well. They both could use a chance to clean up before the long flight to the U.S.
Once everything was arranged, he drove in silence the rest of the way, thinking about the XO-ST teams, Congressman Wharton, Kenneth Hatch, but mostly about Allison Myers.
She looked like Sleeping Beauty, her long lashes fanning her cheeks. She was so far out of his league…
She didn’t wake until he stopped the car at their hotel.
“We’re here.” A wave of tenderness rose inside him as he took in her rumpled appearance. Which lasted for about a second.
She stretched, while he tried hard not to ogle the curve of her breasts. She straightened her clothes and combed her fingers through her hair and, presto, she was a perfectly coiffed lady again.
How did she do that?
He explained to her about the hotel and the plane and she thanked him and insisted on paying, which he ignored. He opened the car door for her and they hurried in out of the heat. Despite all that she’d been through, she walked through the lobby like a queen and drew every eye.
“Once we’re back in the U.S., I’ll have to report to Quantico for debriefing, but then I’m coming to find you. I’d like to talk to you about a couple of things.”
She stopped, drew a slow breath. “I’m not mad at you for not being truthful with me at the beginning. You were doing your job. I understand now what was at stake.”
He wasn’t sure he deserved her easy forgiveness. “I want to see you again,” he blurted the truth.
She looked down. “I’m bad news for men.”
Which wasn’t the same as saying that she had no interest in him. He grinned. “I’m willing to take that chance.”
He wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt, but he was unsure.
Since when had he ever been unsure about kissing a beautiful woman?
Except, Allison was unlike any other woman he’d ever met. She meant something to him, which was impossible since they barely knew each other. He’d always thought that love, if it existed at all, developed from years and years of being together and friendship. He’d never believed in all that googly-eyed love at first sight nonsense.
“What’s wrong?” She blinked the last of the sleep from her incredible blue eyes. “You have this look on your face. Are you hurt?”
She’d had pretty much the worst couple of days a person could have, and she was worried about him.
He pulled her into an alcove, behind a potted plant and kissed her. Like he meant it. No chaste brush of the lips this time. He tasted every corner of her mouth, didn’t want to leave any doubt in her mind how much he wanted her.
She didn’t protest. She kissed him back.
<
br /> Heat and need flooded him. He would have kept on kissing her if they weren’t in a hotel lobby, in a country where displays of public affection were forbidden.
He pulled away from her with reluctance. “Better check in.”
She looked as confused as he felt.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked in the way of a reality check after they got their keys and headed down the hall.
Her eyes went wide. But she answered after a second. “I didn’t use to. With Daniel and Kenneth… we were friends a long time before we decided…”
“Not that I know anything about the subject, but I don’t think love is the type of thing that gets decided.” He pressed his lips together. But then he said what was on his mind, anyway. “We have something here, right?”
She looked away, embarrassed. “Lust?” she suggested, heat creeping into her face.
And he grinned wide. So she lusted after him. Definitely a good start. He wanted her so much he could barely see straight. Any corresponding lust on her part was more than reassuring.
But he wanted more. He wanted her courageous heart, her loyalty, the whole lady thing—he wanted the entire package.
They stopped in front of the right door. “I got only one room, if that’s all right. Two beds.” He felt unsure of himself suddenly.
“I just—” He shook his head. He hadn’t expected her to jump into bed with him, he just couldn’t stand the idea of letting her out of his sight.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. “It’s fine.”
Wow, the two beds pretty much took up the space. Not much more to look at. He kept his gaze on her and tried to block out the dozen X-rated thoughts that assailed him suddenly. Take it slow. Nothing has to happen here. You have a lifetime.
He let the door go and it closed behind them with a quiet click. “You can’t go back home right away. I’m sorry. I’m sure your business needs you, but XO-ST has your purse and IDs. You wouldn’t be safe. I’ll arrange for a safe house. I’m sure your CEOs and vice presidents can handle everything.”
“You know about that?” Her eyes went wide. “How do you know who I am?”
“I ran background checks on everyone at the hotel. I’m sorry.” He winced, expecting her to be mad because he’d violated her privacy.
Of course, she never did what he expected. She looked relieved.
“I used to be scared of my board of directors, did you know?” she asked after a second. “Just dreaded the meetings. I don’t anymore. If I could handle this, I can handle them.” She paused. “This is going to sound strange, but being with you this last couple of days made me a stronger woman.”
He took her hands. “Being with you made me a better man.”
“Kenneth…” she started to say, her voice unsure.
“He passed five months ago.”
She gave a small nod.
He kissed her, his blood heating, need rising and sweeping through every cell, an overpowering tide. She tasted sweet and… his. He needed every ounce of self-discipline he’d learned during his military career to keep from tumbling her onto the closest bed.
Easy now. No rush. Because he was going to find a way to make this last forever.
When she said, “I need a shower,” and pulled away from him, he didn’t think he could move an inch, his body was so hard. He let her go.
But she took his hand back and drew him after her, and his feet did move. Rather rapidly, in fact.
He didn’t think about Wharton or his mission again until much later, when they were lying in each other’s arms dazed and sated, and his cell phone rang.
“Something went wrong in D.C.,” Gabe said on the other end, his voice tense. “I can’t reach Troy. He’s missing.”
_ _ _
WARRIOR AGENT
a Novella
BY
DANA MARTON
With heartfelt gratitude to Jenel Looney, Rickey Mallory, Amy Ignatz and Wendy Gilbert.
Agents Under Fire (novella trilogy)
GUARDIAN AGENT
AVENGING AGENT
WARRIOR AGENT
"... started with a bang and the tension never let up. Marton is an accomplished thriller writer, and it shows. Every time I promised myself I'd stop and turn out the light, I kept reading just one more page..." Paula Graves, national bestselling author
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
WARRIOR AGENT. Copyright © 2011 by Dana Marton. All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author.
www.danamarton.com
First Edition: October 2011
~~~***~~~
Chapter One
They locked him up in the basement, in a steel cage enclosure normally housing the Rottweilers that guarded Congressman Wharton’s D.C. mansion. Undercover agent Troy Hill struggled against the plastic cuff that trapped his hands behind him, careful so the guard outside the cage wouldn’t notice as he shifted on the cold cement floor.
Step one: Get his hands free.
Step two: Deal with the two-inch wide metal chain and the padlock that kept the door secured.
The sooner he escaped the better. He knew too much, enough so that his captors couldn’t afford to let him live.
Next time they came for him, it wouldn’t be for another brutal interrogation. They knew now that they couldn’t impress him with pain. Next time they came, they would be coming to kill him.
The guard, a six foot ten massive ex-football-player type, cursed as he restarted the game he’d been playing on his phone. He adjusted his large frame on the barstool, engrossed in hitting the right buttons with his oversized thumbs.
Troy didn’t plan on going up against him, not with the cracked ribs, the busted knuckles on his right hand, and the swollen kneecap that had met with a baseball bat repeatedly during his questioning. Much better to hedge his bets and go for the weakest link.
Which meant the female. She had the least amount of weight and muscles among the three guards who switched out every two hours. She’d be on guard duty next. Troy stretched his legs, warming up his muscles, getting ready.
She hadn’t been there when the others had beaten him. On her previous shift, she’d brought him extra food and water. Seemed nice enough—another weakness he might be able to exploit. She was tall and lean, dark hair in a tight bun at her nape, the clearest green eyes he’d ever seen.
And something behind those eyes... A wall. Or maybe more than one, a whole defense system. Her muscles had been tense. Not a temporary thing. Her body language… He knew people with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD, who walked like that, watched like that, always on the edge, on the ball of their feet as if they were ready at a moment’s notice either to lunge into a fight, or flee.
Among the three guards, she’d be the easiest one to rattle.
But she wouldn’t be a pushover. He would have to kill her to get away.
His conscience pinged.
He silenced it and focused on the cursed plastic cuff once again.
* * *
Claire Montgomery stood at attention in Congressman Wharton’s office with half of his security detail. The six guys were all at least a head taller than she, with more muscles than a body builder, uniform tough-guy looks on their chiseled faces. Prime male specimens, yet she couldn’t relate to them, let alone feel attracted to them. She couldn’t see whatever it was they had that so titillated the maids.
Standing next to them, she felt like she was in some photo in an activity book for kids. Which one of these things is least like the others?
They were a well-oiled team, with her being the recent hire, the outsider. The photo op. Seemed suspicious that on her first day on the job last
week, the Congressman just happened to walk around the grounds during her shift, started a chat with her, and the press had happened to be there to record everything.
CONGRESSMAN WHARTON BELIEVES IN HIRING RETURNING VETS, the headlines read the next day, above a picture of the man smiling benevolently at her.
He loomed now behind his desk, ready to dismiss the team. In light of the intruder, they’d been discussing various security upgrades to avoid something like this happening again. He’d called the meeting, his last one for today. He often worked in the middle of the night, and nobody seemed to think it strange.
“I think we should call the police, sir,” she blurted her opinion. They should have called the cops the second they’d caught the intruder hours ago.
She hated that she’d been on break when the man had been apprehended. She’d only found out about him when everyone around her started running. Her earpiece must be acting up again, because she didn’t even hear the alert.
The Congressman’s aide, standing on his right, flashed her an annoyed look for speaking out of turn. “The FBI is on their way. They’re going to take him in. If we call the local police, the media will be alerted. They monitor the police channels. We want to keep this under wraps.”
“I don’t want this in the news,” the Congressman cut in, wearing his best vote-winner smile, disarming and trust-inspiring at the same time. “An attack on me will either paint me as a victim, or a man hated enough for assassins to be stalking him. Not the image I’m trying for just when I’m announcing my bid for presidency.”
Everything had a political angle here, probably even the choice of what color socks the Congressman put on in the morning. Since she desperately needed the job, she just had to learn to live with that. “Yes, sir.”
Wharton’s gaze moved from man to man. “I want you to find out how he got in and make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
