Black Ops Warrior

by Amelia Autin

  His introspection hadn’t started when he’d met Savannah, he acknowledged. It had begun when he’d met the woman who was now his older brother’s wife, and realized that—incredibly—Shane had fallen in love again after umpteen years.

  He’d watched Shane and Carly together and had been filled with a sense of longing for what they had. Niall had listened to Carly’s voice and had known she was frantic with fear for Shane when he decided to set himself up as a target to catch the hitman who had both Shane and Carly in his sights. Yet she’d been brave enough to let him risk his life without trying to stop him, and he’d wanted that for himself. Not that he’d wanted Carly—he’d just wanted a woman like her. Soft and gentle, yet fierce and protective. One who would love him through the good times and bad, one he could love the way Shane loved Carly, with a totality he’d never known.

  Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

  Too late to listen to the warning, because he’d already found the perfect woman for him, and she was standing in the protective curve of his arms. He just couldn’t keep her.

  He’d been skeptical of his brothers and the swiftness with which they’d fallen in love with the women who were now their wives. Especially his youngest brother, Liam, who’d fallen for Cate in a day. But now he realized time had absolutely nothing to do with it. When a man realized he’d found the other half of his soul, he couldn’t do anything but fall.

  He loved Savannah with that totality he’d wished for, and he knew in his heart she was trembling on the brink of loving him if she hadn’t already fallen. Problem was, he’d put himself beyond the pale before he’d even had the chance to know her. Love her.

  And therein lay the tragedy.

  She turned in his embrace to move aside and let someone else have a chance at the window, but before she could he kissed her. She melted into him the way she always did, but then she tore her mouth away.

  “Not here,” she breathed, and he knew she was right; they didn’t need an audience. But it nearly killed him to let her go.

  * * *

  Once more on the ground, they strolled leisurely along the walkway, stopping frequently so Savannah could photograph the marble carvings adorning the sides of the hill upon which the pagoda had been constructed.

  “Stand right there,” she instructed in front of a panel displaying an ancient Chinese warrior, sword in hand. She adjusted his position slightly, then snapped off several shots. “That’s you.”

  “I don’t carry a sword,” he disagreed.

  “No, but the expression on his face. You can just tell he’s protecting someone or something, and that’s you. You’re a protector.”

  True, he thought, thinking back over his years in the Marine Corps and the job he had now. But how had Savannah picked up on it? “What makes you say that?”

  “Oh, Niall,” was her amused reply. “Just how clueless do you think I am?”

  “I don’t think you’re clueless,” he protested. “Far from it.”

  “I knew you were a protector from the moment I met you on the Great Wall.”

  Back when she’d still been his target. Back when he was using her fear as an excuse to get close to her, to worm his way into her confidence. Guilt made his voice harsher than he intended. “Did it ever occur to you I might have had an ulterior motive?”

  Her smile faded. “I considered it,” she admitted, her face solemn and still. “For all of about ten seconds.”

  “You’re too trusting. Didn’t your parents ever warn you about strangers? And what about the job you used to do?” he added, warming to his theme. “Haven’t you ever heard of social engineering? I could have been anybody for all you knew.”

  If anything, her expression turned even more solemn. “I’ve heard of it, of course. I know what it is, and what it isn’t. You never asked me a single question that raised a red flag. You never pushed me to tell you anything related to my work. You were just...kind. Caring. And so understanding of a fear that has plagued me nearly my whole life that I instinctively trusted you. I knew you’d never hurt me.”

  That last sentence was a lash against his conscience, because she was wrong, wrong, wrong! And he desperately wanted to tell her the truth. To lift the weight off his conscience. Confession is good for the soul, he remembered advising her in a lighthearted exchange the other day. But he couldn’t do that, and not just because he wasn’t authorized to tell her. As long as she needed his protection, he needed to keep his secret.

  But you don’t need to continue taking advantage of her, his conscience retorted in brutal fashion. You don’t need to keep sharing her bed.

  His conscience was right. Savannah had finally accepted early this morning she was a target, which meant she’d be on her guard and didn’t need him 24/7. He could move into his own cabin and watch over her from there for the rest of the trip.

  His conscience lightened up on him once he’d reached that resolution, allowing him to clasp her hand and accompany her back to the boat as if nothing substantial had changed between them.

  But he dreaded telling her. He had a strong suspicion she wouldn’t take it well. Not at all.

  * * *

  “I see.” The calmness with which Savannah received his announcement told him she was blazingly angry.

  “You don’t need me day and night anymore,” he explained, hefting his backpack over one shoulder and picking up his suitcases.

  “I see,” she repeated. “So...all the times we wore each other out in bed, that was just...what? A form of protection?”

  He dropped the suitcases with a thud. “No! God, no.”

  “Then why?”

  “I have reasons,” he insisted stubbornly. “Valid reasons.”

  “Those reasons you said before you can’t share with me.”

  “Exactly.”

  She folded her lips into a tight line. “Okay. Go then. I’ll look after myself.”

  The backpack joined the suitcases on the floor. “I’ll still be protecting you,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Just not...”

  “Right. You just won’t be sleeping with me. Okay. I get it. You may leave now,” she said, oh-so-politely.

  “Not until you promise you won’t leave this room without me.”

  “Oh, I see it now.” She nodded to herself. “Not only am I not good enough to share a bed with, but you think I’m stupid, as well.”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid.” He frowned in puzzlement. “You’re probably the smartest woman I know.”

  “You must think I’m stupid if you think you have to secure that promise from me. Well let me tell you something, Mr. Johnson. I’m not stupid. You’ve convinced me I’m in danger, so I won’t do anything to jeopardize my safety or my freedom.” Her lips thinned. “And now you may take your belongings and leave. I have things to do. I was planning to attend the Welcome Reception before dinner. You know, the one celebrating our first day of sailing? So I’ll call your room when I’m ready. Is that sufficient?”

  * * *

  Savannah managed to hold on until after Niall left and she bolted the door behind him before she broke down. She threw herself on the other bed, the one they hadn’t shared last night, pulled the pillow over her head and sobbed. Just sobbed. Her heart was breaking, but that wasn’t why she was crying. She was crying because the expression on Niall’s face at the very end betrayed he was suffering just as much as she was by his inexplicable decision to sleep apart from her.

  Which meant he cared. A lot more than he wanted her to know. Which also meant the secret he was keeping from her was so important his conscience wouldn’t let him stay. She couldn’t imagine what it could be. But it had to be earth-shattering.

  Chapter 13

  Dressed all in black, the masked man tested the rope by moonlight, gratefu
l for the light in one way, but also hoping no sleepless passenger came up on the deck and spotted his companion and him. “You know what to do, right?” he asked the woman in a low-pitched voice.

  She nodded, and her voice was just as hushed when she said, “As soon as you land on the balcony and release the rope, pull it up and get rid of the evidence. Then head down to the bottom deck and prepare to launch the lifeboat you selected.”

  The plan was simple. Break into Savannah’s stateroom, hopefully without waking her. Chloroform her. Remove his mask; he couldn’t risk having someone see him disguised in the hallways as he carried her from her room to the lifeboat. Then bind her hands and feet and apply the gag to her mouth once they were there. Launch the boat with the help of his pseudo-wife, leaving her on board to pretend he was sick in their cabin as the reason for his absence the next morning.

  Assuming all went as planned, once he’d transferred Savannah to his men waiting on shore, all he had to do was make his way to the next port of call, Qutang Gorge, and reboard the boat while everyone was sightseeing in the Lesser Three Gorges. Then finish the cruise as if nothing had happened.

  He’d been waiting, somewhat impatiently, for his first opportunity, transmitting instructions via cell phone to his Chinese hirelings on land to continue following the boat’s path as it made its way down the Yangtze River. He’d exulted when he’d observed Niall Johnson leave Savannah at her door and head to his own cabin, after which he’d cobbled this makeshift plan together.

  Good thing I planned for most contingencies, he thought, mentally patting himself on the back.

  He climbed over the railing, the rope securely fastened in a sling beneath his shoulders and warned the woman, “Don’t screw it up,” as he walked himself down the side of the boat. The rope played out smoothly from the passive arrestor mechanism he’d smuggled on board along with the rope. It didn’t take long since his target’s balcony was only one deck below the top.

  He landed without a sound. He slid the rope out from under his arms and tugged it hard three times to signal he was safely down, and it hissed its way back up the side of the boat. He pulled his set of lock picks from his pocket and was just reaching for the balcony door when something metal clanged off the railing behind him before hitting the water below with a splash.

  * * *

  Savannah woke instantly. She didn’t know what the sound was she’d heard, but she knew whatever had caused it wasn’t normal. Had something hit the boat? She scrambled out of bed, and that’s when she saw the dark shadow of a man cast by the light of the moon through the drapes covering her balcony door.

  She frantically pounded on the wall between her cabin and Niall’s. Then she grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed where she’d left it and was in the corridor in a flash, even before she could put it on.

  Niall met her there. Just as the first night, he was bare-chested, wearing only jeans that weren’t fully fastened and revealed what would in other circumstances be a tantalizing glimpse of hair that arrowed downward. She was distracted from her terror for a moment by the realization that Niall must always sleep in the nude, not just when he was with her. Then she shoved that thought out of her mind. “Someone was trying to get in through my balcony door,” she whispered, conscious of the sleeping occupants of the other cabins on Deck Five.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Stay here.” He vanished into her stateroom, but Savannah followed, determined to be his backup just in case, and struggling to drag her robe on over the T-shirt that barely grazed the tops of her thighs.

  Niall had her balcony door open and was examining the lock when she entered. “Untouched,” he told her. “I can dust for fingerprints, but...”

  “I saw him,” she insisted, thinking he didn’t believe her.

  “Him?”

  “Well, I can’t swear it was a man. I just saw a shadow against the drapes. But it was taller than I am and it looked like a man, so I logically assumed it was one.”

  He nodded, but she wasn’t sure she’d convinced him someone really had been trying to enter her stateroom. “I’m not making this up, Niall. I’m not so desperate for you I’d invent a story about a break-in to—”

  He clasped his hands over her shoulders, cutting her off. “You’re trembling.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a couple of seconds, then opened them again. “I was terrified. I still am.”

  He lifted a hand and touched two fingers against the pulse at the base of her ear. “You are,” he agreed. “Your pulse is racing, and it’s not because you’re turned on.”

  She choked on laughter quickly suppressed. “Umm, no. You’re right. I’m not. Turned on, that is.” She looked up at him, so reassuringly male, and said, “I know it’s an imposition, but I have to ask. Would you sleep in the other bed the rest of tonight? I’m not trying to...to seduce you or anything like that. I just don’t want to stay here by myself. Just for tonight,” she assured him when his eyes widened in disbelief.

  “Are you kidding me? You think I have any intention of waltzing back to my cabin as if nothing happened?”

  “I thought you didn’t believe me,” she said, her words a faint thread of sound.

  He held his hand up as if to stop her. “Let’s get one thing straight. Even if I didn’t believe you—which I do, by the way, for reasons I’ll explain in a minute—you believe it happened. It scared you so much you’re still shaking. What kind of sorry excuses for men have you known that make you think a man could just walk away from a woman in that state?”

  When she didn’t respond, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head against his shoulder. “Never mind. I don’t give a damn about them. But I do give a damn about you. So for as long as you need me, I’m yours.” He released her, saying, “Let me just run next door for some more clothes, but I’ll be back in a minute. Will you be okay or do you want to come with me?”

  “I think I can survive on my own for a couple of minutes,” she said with a dry twist to her tone. “But before you go, would you tell me why you believe me?”

  “Oh that.” He paused. “What woke you?”

  She thought for a moment. “There was a noise. I can’t really explain, but it sounded as if something hit the boat. Something metallic.”

  He nodded. “I heard it, too. I didn’t see the man on your balcony, but I was already awake when you pounded on the wall.”

  “That’s why you believe me?”

  “That, combined with everything else that’s happened, and yeah. I think whoever’s after you saw me leave you at your door and go into my cabin, and realized that left you unprotected. Something they were quick to take advantage of.”

  “Which means whoever it is,” she said slowly, “their room is probably on this deck.”

  The flash of admiration she’d noted before was back in his eyes, and he said softly, “You’re always on target, Dr. Whitman.”

  It wasn’t until Niall had gone to his cabin for his clothes that Savannah realized this wasn’t the first time he’d called her Dr. Whitman. And she’d never told him she was one.

  * * *

  “What the hell happened?” the man demanded of the woman when he finally returned to their stateroom after scrambling down from Savannah’s balcony to the ones directly below it in quick succession, until he’d reached the bottom deck, where there was no balcony. He’d hastily removed the mask and gloves, then surreptitiously made his way back upstairs.

  “It wasn’t my fault, honest. I’d pulled up the rope and coiled it in preparation for disposing of it. I was trying to unhook the passive arrestor mechanism from the railing when it slipped out of my hands. It’s heavy, you know,” she threw at him when his face turned accusatory.

  “I told you not to screw up.”

  “I couldn’t help it!”


  “We may never have a better chance than we had tonight.”

  “I couldn’t help it, I tell you!”

  “I’m docking your share of the payoff.”

  “What?” she gasped.

  “Don’t argue with me.” His voice was cold. Ruthless. “Just be thankful I’m not dispensing with your services completely.”

  * * *

  Savannah shifted restlessly in the dark, unable to sleep for a variety of reasons. She and Niall had reported the incident to the ship’s captain and purser. Even though they believed the attempted break-in was another kidnapping attempt, Niall had thought it best to go on the record with it anyway. The noise and her reaction had thankfully scared the intruder off, he’d told her, but he didn’t want to give the impression they knew the true motive. So it was important to set up a hue and cry that would make their suspects think she and Niall thought it was an attempted robbery...or even a possible sexual assault.

  That had been an awkward conversation, she remembered now. The captain and the purser, hastily called from their beds, had stood in her stateroom and listened to everything with impassive faces, although their profuse apologies and repeated statements that this would be looked into immediately betrayed how horrified and embarrassed they were something like this had happened on their watch. Passenger safety was of paramount importance to the cruise company, they assured her.

  She and Niall had put on jackets and had gone up to the top deck after the captain and purser had left, where they’d discovered more circumstantial evidence that there really had been someone trying to break in. In the eerie blue-white moonlight, they’d found scratch marks on the otherwise pristine white paintwork on the railing right above her balcony. Something had been clamped there, and Niall had theorized it was some kind of mechanical lowering device. Whatever it was, it was probably the thing that bounced off your balcony railing and woke us both up, before it fell into the water below.