Black Ops Warrior

by Amelia Autin

  He would have burst out laughing if he hadn’t already created a scene earlier, so he strangled his laughter and covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking. When he finally had himself mostly under control, he wheezed, “You stole a Bible?”

  “The irony, I know. I’d never seen a book so tiny it fit in the palm of my hand, and I was fascinated. I just had to have it. Somehow, before I knew it, it ended up in my pocket.”

  “So what happened?”

  “My mom found it.” She shivered suddenly. “I can still remember the humiliation when she made me take it back to the store and turn myself in. Almost twenty-nine years ago, but that lesson is burned in my memory. I’ll never forget it.” All at once her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked hard to keep them from falling. “I didn’t realize it at the time,” she whispered, “but my mom stood behind me as I walked up to that counter and confessed my crime, sharing my guilt...the mother of a thief. Some mothers might have let it go. Some might have punished me by grounding me or something like that, but not mine. She made the punishment fit the crime. Made sure I’d never forget it.”

  She gulped. “She was such a good mom. My dad, too. Wonderful parents. I look back at my childhood, and I realize all the ways they helped shape the woman I am. I miss them so much.”

  His arms closed around her without conscious thought, and he pressed her face against his chest as she sobbed once, then lay quiescent. “It’s okay, Savannah. It’s okay to grieve.”

  “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry anymore,” she breathed, clinging tightly. “It’s just...”

  “I understand.” And the damnable thing was, he did understand, because his parents had raised him the same way Savannah’s parents had raised her, and he loved them just as deeply. And when his dad had died relatively young? He’d grieved for the longest time. Still did, on occasion, though he tried not to dwell on it. But he still loved his father and all the wonderful growing-up memories he would take to his grave.

  Savannah’s loss was still so fresh. And she’d lost both parents, not just one. Added to that, she had no siblings to share her grief the way he did. It just about killed him that she had no one to hold her and love her and tell her it was going to be okay, that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

  That was the moment he realized he was dangerously close to falling in love with Savannah, if he wasn’t already.

  And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth for a man like him? A man with zero chance of being the kind of man she needed long term. You can tell yourself that until you’re blue in the face, he thought savagely, but that doesn’t change the truth.

  Because the truth was, he wanted to be that man. Fiercely.

  Chapter 9

  Just as at the Great Wall, there were hordes of people pushing and shoving to get close to the railing near the entrance for an unimpeded view of the row upon row of terracotta warriors. Savannah didn’t know how Niall had accomplished it, but somehow he’d managed to squeeze through the crowd and make a place for her at the railing, then stood at her back, his arms wrapped protectively around her, holding the hordes at bay so she wouldn’t suffer a panic attack.

  She had her camera out and was snapping picture after picture, thankful her camera was highly rated for the low light inside the cavernous museum.

  “Ready to move on?” Niall asked when she stopped taking pictures.

  She’d been so focused on getting to the railing for her first glimpse of the terracotta army she hadn’t realized what she was doing. But now she turned her head to the left and right and shuddered. Masses of people surrounded them. How were they going to escape the press of bodies?

  Niall must have felt the shudder, must have realized she was starting to panic, because he leaned down and spoke quietly in her ear. “Trust me, Savannah. I’ll get you out safely if you’ll just trust me and follow my lead.”

  “O...kay...” she said, but her teeth were already chattering.

  “Tuck your camera away—don’t want to drop it.” And when she’d done so, he swung her into his arms and shouldered his way through the crowd.

  “Niall! What are you—You can’t carry—Oh my God!”

  Before she knew it, they were out of the press of people struggling to get to the railing, and the crowd thinned. He lowered her feet to the floor when they reached the ramp on the far left side and smiled down into her still-startled face. “I told you I’d get you out of there.”

  “Yes, but I... I didn’t want to make a scene.”

  “If you’d slipped into a full-blown panic attack at the railing—which you were just about to do—you’d have made a hell of a scene. More than what I did.”

  “You’re right,” she acknowledged after a moment.

  “And if you look around, no one gives a damn. It’s done. It’s over. And no one cares.”

  “You’re right,” she repeated as she glanced from side to side and realized no one was paying them the least attention.

  “So...” His smile deepened, and a devilish gleam entered his eyes. “How are you going to thank me?” He waggled his eyebrows in exaggerated fashion.

  She laughed, and the laughter dispelled the last of her panic, obviously something Niall had done with that goal in mind. “Oh, you...” She cuffed him playfully on the arm, but then an upwelling of gratitude made her reach up and pull his head down to hers. “My hero,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Fifty yards away, still at the railing, pretending to take photographs, the pseudo-couple focused their cameras on Savannah and Niall. The woman leaned over to the man, as if in a romantic gesture, and pressed her lips against his ear. “I thought you were going to get him out of the picture somehow.”

  His mouth barely moved. “No chance so far. He’s amazingly careful of his surroundings. Might have to wait until the boat.”

  “What does Spencer say?”

  He snorted. “Spencer wants what he wants, when he wants it. But he’s not the one in the field. And I’m not taking any chances just because he’s impatient.”

  “Okay. You’re the boss.”

  His eyes were cold when he faced her. “Yes. And don’t you forget it.”

  * * *

  Niall’s gaze was sweeping back and forth through the crowd, checking for the slightest betrayal of a hostile action toward Savannah, while at the same time achingly aware of every move she made. He wished—how he wished—he could sweep her into his arms again and take her someplace safe. Someplace where he didn’t have to constantly be on his guard. Someplace like his condo in Washington, DC, a miniature fortress.

  But he couldn’t convince her to leave China with the balance of her bucket list unfulfilled. Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt and was shot down before I got to wear it, he thought with a touch of mordant humor. And he couldn’t take her out of here against her will, either. Which meant constant vigilance while in public.

  They were ahead of most of their tour group, he saw. Their tour guide was standing halfway up the ramp they’d come down, holding his sign for Michael’s Family high enough for everyone to see it above the crowd. A gaggle of faces he recognized were huddled around the tour guide, listening to what he had to say. Niall could hear him, too, although he’d reduced the volume on his electronic receiver until the voice was little more than a whisper in his ear. He didn’t need the history lesson; he just needed to know when it was time to move on so they didn’t become too separated from the rest of their group.

  Savannah turned a flushed and ecstatic face toward him. “Isn’t it amazing? Have you ever seen anything like it?”

  “No. Never.” But he wasn’t talking about the rows of statues. He was talking about Savannah herself, and the glow that mimicked the one on her face last night when she’d answered the door at his
knock.

  Beautiful, he realized with a sense of shock. Beautiful the way a piece of music could catch at your heartstrings and make you ache for something just out of reach. And just as he couldn’t really compare two completely different songs that were both heart-wrenching, he couldn’t compare Savannah to any other woman, either. Her beauty would never fade because it had nothing to do with her features and everything to do with her loving heart.

  And though he’d already acknowledged and accepted he could never be the man in her life long-term, in that moment he fell a little deeper under her spell.

  * * *

  Niall accompanied Savannah on the last of the optional side tours that night: dinner and a live theater show featuring one of China’s most glorious dynasties. “I don’t want to miss a thing,” she’d explained artlessly on the bus back to their hotel, so he’d ponied up the extra five hundred yuan—not quite seventy-five dollars—and signed up, as well. He wouldn’t put it on his expense report, however. Some agents would do that without a qualm, and he knew no one would question the expense if he did. Savannah was no longer his target but she was under his protection. Which meant he needed to guard her whenever she was out and about, including this side tour. But like the flowers he’d given her, tonight was personal. Very personal.

  She wasn’t wearing the peach-colored dress she’d wowed him with twice now, but she was looking particularly fetching in a silky, navy pantsuit that clung in all the right places. And Niall’s fingers itched to take it off her. Slowly.

  His imagination of what he planned to do later that night didn’t distract him from being vigilant. Vigilance came as natural as breathing. But so far, other than that first night, there’d been nothing. No threats. No danger.

  He wondered about that now. He’d turned in his daily activity reports—leaving out any mention of the personal, of course—but he was afraid if there wasn’t another incident soon that indicated Savannah still needed protection, he might get pulled off the assignment. And that was not going to happen. He had plenty of vacation time on the books and the entire land tour/river cruise was already paid for. So if he had to take vacation to stay with Savannah, that’s just what he’d do.

  * * *

  The bus was dark and Savannah kept eyeing Niall whenever his attention was focused elsewhere. He’d been—well, not distant; perhaps introspective was a better word—introspective, ever since they’d left the museum.

  He’d let her take pictures of him as a terracotta warrior at the factory, and had done the same for her. He’d smiled that devastating smile when she’d asked him to. He’d even joked and laughed with the other guests at their table in the restaurant above the factory. But she’d known something was on his mind. She just didn’t know what. And the little demon of insecurity that hit in social situations reared its ugly head.

  She comforted herself with the memory of this morning, when he’d apologized for letting her wake up alone. He said he’d leave a piece of himself behind when it’s over, and that he’ll take a piece of me with him when he goes, she thought, which had certainly been reassuring to hear.

  That’s when it hit her. She didn’t want Niall to leave. She didn’t want it to be over. Ever. Because—stupid, stupid, stupid! she railed at herself—she was falling in love with him. With his banter. His smile. That way he had of reading her mind. Not to mention the way he’d coaxed not one, not two, but three overwhelming orgasms out of a body she’d once thought was undersexed. Not anymore. Not with him.

  I’m not that good at it, she’d confessed miserably. And what had been his response? Don’t worry, Savannah. You will be.

  And she had been good at it...with him. Had she already been falling in love with him? Was that why? Or was it just that despite the self-deprecating words that had followed his assertion that she would be good at sex, he was God’s gift to women?

  She didn’t know. But one thing she did know. It would break her heart when he walked away when this trip was over. And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

  * * *

  They flew to Chongqing the next morning, where they would board the river boat for the cruise portion of the tour: six days and five nights on the Yangtze River. Then they’d finish up the tour on shore again, in Wuhan and Shanghai.

  Savannah dozed on the flight, her head pillowed on Niall’s shoulder. She’d gotten very little sleep last night, but she didn’t regret it. Niall had surpassed himself, taking her to new heights time and again. He’d taught her things about herself she’d never known, and had taught her things about his body she’d always been curious about.

  “It’s okay, Savannah,” he’d told her when he’d used his mouth on her. “You’ll enjoy it. You’ll see.” And she had. So much so he hadn’t even needed to coax her to do the same to him. His reaction had been off the charts, and had filled her with a sense of accomplishment akin to the one she’d felt when her company had told her they were applying for her first patent. She’d loved doing that for him.

  When she slipped deeper into sleep, she began dreaming of Niall. But not of him making love to her. Of him saying, I don’t think it was a break-in, Savannah... I think you were targeted. And I don’t think they planned to rob you.

  Why would someone want to kidnap her? Niall thought it was because of the job she used to do. It was a terrifying idea, and one she’d dismissed out of hand. As she’d told him, it sounded like something out of a spy novel, not something that happened in real life. But could he be right?

  She jolted awake, then subsided back onto the solid cushion of Niall’s shoulder and tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep.

  For no reason at all she suddenly thought of the annoyingly persistent Spencer Davies, of Davies Missiles and Fire Control in Alamogordo, New Mexico, and the last conversation she’d had with him. He’d been trying to lure her to leave her current employer and come work for him, something he’d done several times before, constantly sweetening the pot with each offer. Stock options this last time. Stock that will shoot up in value if we have you on board, Dr. Whitman, he’d cunningly worked into their phone conversation.

  She’d turned him down, she remembered, as she’d turned him down each and every time he’d made her a job offer before. Not just because she was content with her work in Tucson and living close to her parents in Vail, but because there was something about Spencer Davies she didn’t trust.

  He seemed like the kind of man who’d take shortcuts, who’d rush a missile into production before it had been thoroughly tested. Yes, the testing her company did added considerably to the cost, most of which was borne by the US government and ultimately the taxpayers. But men and women in the military were relying on the missiles they produced, not to mention the civilians who could be severely impacted if something went wrong. Lives were on the line. Shortcuts were shortsighted.

  Savannah drifted back to sleep without realizing it, but her thoughts followed her into the dream world.

  She’d never had any intention of working for Davies Missiles and Fire Control, in large part because she could never work for a man she didn’t respect. And who could respect Spencer Davies? But one never burned bridges, not in her industry. Today’s competitor could be tomorrow’s joint venture. So how had she answered his latest offer? Something about being honored, as usual, but...

  I’m quitting for the foreseeable future, Mr. Davies, and you won’t even be able to contact me.

  You’re quitting? His disbelief had been evident even through the phone. But you’re too brilliant at your job, Dr. Whitman. How can you possibly quit?

  She hadn’t told Spencer Davies the real reason any more than she’d told her section head or the head of her department when she’d given notice. It was too personal, and she’d been afraid she’d break down and cry if she talked about her parents, something that—as a woman in a company still predominantly com
posed of male engineers—she couldn’t fathom doing. So she’d said the same things she’d written in her resignation letter.

  I want to travel, Mr. Davies. And having a top secret clearance makes it problematic to visit some of the places I want to go, like Russia and the People’s Republic of China. I’m quitting rather than taking a leave of absence so it won’t be an issue. I’ll worry about my security clearance when and if I—

  “Savannah?” A voice broke into her dream, and a strong hand gently squeezed her arm. “We’re here, Savannah. Time to wake up.”

  She opened her eyes to see Niall bent over her, then blinked several times to clear the dregs of sleep from her brain. She yawned and quickly covered her mouth, then blinked again. “Sorry. I must have been more exhausted than I thought.”

  His expression turned wicked and knowing. “Did I wear you out last night?”

  Heat flashed through every part of her body—including her cheeks—at the memory of everything they’d done last night. At the way she’d moaned his name and clutched his arms...shoulders...hips... At the way she’d pleaded with him to put out the blaze he’d ignited. And the way he’d done just that. She wanted to respond with the same lighthearted banter, but she couldn’t think of a single, solitary thing to say other than, “Yes.” Then she tacked on, “Yes, you did.”

  The heat concentrated in her core when he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Good. Because you wore me out, too. But now I’m completely recovered, and remember what I said about love in the afternoon? I can hardly wait.”

  * * *

  Niall escorted Savannah to her stateroom on the aft end of the boat. “You’re 508, correct? I’m in 510, right next door. Wait here.”

  He unlocked her door, then went inside and gave the room a quick once-over before he let her enter. “Mind if I leave these here for now?” he asked, indicating his backpack and carry-on suitcase, in which he carried his laptop and a few other pieces of equipment he didn’t want in his stowed suitcase. “I need to check out the boat before we sail, and I don’t want to leave them in my room unattended.”