Black Ops Warrior

by Amelia Autin

  Random thoughts swirled through her mind from their conversation earlier, and without thinking she started to ask, “Have you ever...” Then stopped when she realized it might be too personal.

  “Ever what?”

  Because she really wanted to know, she finished her question. “Not bothered?”

  He got it right away; she didn’t need to explain. “No,” he said, his voice very deep. “Never. I’ve always protected the woman I’ve been with against pregnancy.”

  “Did you want to?” The follow-up question popped out before she could prevent it, and she sat up abruptly, tugging the covers over her breasts. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

  He didn’t respond one way or the other, so she peeked at him. “Once,” he said finally, when their eyes met.

  A shaft of pain struck without warning. She didn’t understand why his answer hurt so much at first, until she remembered the woman he’d loved all those years ago, the one who’d told him the scar on his chest was offensive. The one who hadn’t deserved his love. “Was it...the woman you loved?”

  A faint smile touched his lips, but there was something in it that made her feel like crying. “Yeah. The woman I loved.”

  * * *

  Niall had never given serious thought to fatherhood, other than to take precautions to prevent it every time. He adored his sister’s little girl, Alyssa, and doted on her. And when he’d met his brand-new nephews, Drew and Caden—four months and one month, respectively—at Shane’s wedding in July, he’d been taken with them, too, in a distant sort of way. But just as he’d never envisioned himself with a wife, he’d never figured kids would be compatible with the job he did and the life he led.

  So Savannah’s question had hit him like a tsunami. Because he’d realized in that instant just how badly he hadn’t wanted to wear a condom...with her.

  His younger brothers, Alec and Liam, were brand-new fathers. And the last time he’d seen them, they’d admitted they hadn’t been anxious to be fathers, either. Until they’d met their wives, Angelina and Cate.

  “I can’t explain it,” Alec had said. “Can you, Liam?”

  Liam had pondered the question for a moment. “It’s not some macho desire for a tiny human being in your image,” he’d eventually said. “That’s not it at all. And it’s not even a desire to leave something of yourself for posterity—something that will live on after you.” He’d paused for a second. “It’s more like you want to create something with the woman who means the world to you, a tangible manifestation of the love the two of you share.” He’d glanced at Alec. “Is that how it was for you?”

  Alec had nodded. “You nailed it, bro.”

  All this flashed through Niall’s mind in less than a minute. And as he pulled Savannah back down against his shoulder and cuddled her close, he acknowledged a bitter truth. Like his younger brothers, like his older brother, Shane, who’d confided to Niall that he and Carly were going to be trying for a baby starting with their honeymoon, he wanted to create a child with the woman he loved, too.

  But that door was firmly closed against him. Forever.

  Adam, standing on the outside looking back at the angels wielding a flaming sword to guard the gates of Eden, had nothing on the despair that filled Niall’s soul in that instant.

  Chapter 16

  That evening, the riverboat passed through the five-stage locks of the Three Gorges Dam, which fueled the world’s largest hydroelectric power station. As with everything else, Savannah wanted to experience it as it was happening, so she rushed through dinner in order to go out on deck for the night passage.

  It was exciting at first. But then, as she confided to Niall, it became rather like watching paint dry. So they returned to her stateroom, where he immediately busied himself with his laptop, stretching his long legs out on the bed and using both pillows as a backrest. She sat cross-legged on the other bed and pulled her laptop out, too.

  She downloaded the pictures she’d taken and put them in sequential, labeled folders, then updated the diary she was keeping about the trip—the places she’d seen, the people she’d met and how she’d felt everywhere she went. She made a face at the computer screen as she acknowledged she’d rather neglected this since they’d boarded the boat; Niall had monopolized her time.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” she whispered under her breath.

  Niall looked up. “Did you say something?”

  “Just talking to myself.”

  She put the photos of Niall in their own special folder with his name on it. And she started a separate diary just about him. Not about the sex, fantastic as it was. But every emotion he’d engendered in her, good and bad. From the way he’d overwhelmed her senses that very first day, to the moment she’d realized she loved him, to the fears of betrayal that had swamped her, to the acceptance that he wasn’t perfect but she loved him anyway.

  No one would ever read it but her, so she didn’t worry she was betraying too much of her secret heart. She didn’t worry about being politically correct, either. She was a strong, intelligent woman who’d carved a career for herself in a male-dominated field and had been wildly successful despite the obvious roadblocks. She firmly believed men and women should be judged by the same rules, should succeed on their merits and should receive equal pay for equal work. She knew she was as good as any man in her field, and in most cases better, far better.

  But...

  There was something particularly appealing about the protective shield Niall had erected around her.

  And in her secret diary she didn’t hesitate to lay bare her enjoyment of being looked after, taken care of, because she also knew that if Niall needed her, she would be there for him, too. But as she saw it, what he needed most from her was trust. Belief. And love.

  Not the fairy-tale, happily-ever-after kind of love. Even her parents, who’d been her role models in so many ways, had had their ups and downs in their marriage. But through the good and the bad, their love had burned as an eternal flame. Steady. Unwavering. Happily-ever-after, but without the fairy tale aspect that couldn’t be sustained over the long haul.

  That’s what she wanted with Niall. She knew he had it in him to give her. But what was even more important, she knew she had it in her to give him. Whether he wanted it, however, or was willing to accept it, she didn’t know.

  He cared. She knew that. He cared a lot. His words in the wee hours of this morning reverberated in her 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.

  Then there were those other words from this morning, too. I don’t want to hurt you. And, Don’t fall in love with me, please. I’ll only break your heart.

  That was the alpha male in him. Protecting her from every danger that threatened, as well as from himself.

  He had secrets he couldn’t or wouldn’t share with her, which was a huge roadblock. And she didn’t know what he’d lied to her about, or why—an even bigger obstacle. But if they could get past all that, they had a chance for the kind of happiness her parents had shared.

  She and Niall were compatible in so many ways. Not just in bed, although they were incredibly attuned to one another that way—she didn’t even have to touch him for him to be aroused, which was a very empowering feeling. But sex alone couldn’t sustain a relationship for the long-term.

  Relationship? a little voice in the back of her head whispered. Let’s be honest, shall we? It’s marriage you’re looking for. Marriage, with maybe a child or two. You’re thirty-six. It’s still possible. That’s why you asked him if he’d ever considered not wearing a condom. Because in your heart of hearts you want his baby. Admit it.

  “Okay, okay,” she muttered. “I admit it.”

  Niall raised his head again. “What did you say?”
r />   “Sorry. Bad habit. Comes of living alone.”

  Obviously amused, he said, “I live alone, too.”

  “Well, then, you know what it’s like.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I’m afraid I do.”

  She tried to control her tongue, she really did. But the words came out willy-nilly. “Do you ever think about changing it? Living alone, I mean.”

  He stared at her for the longest time. Much longer than she’d thought he’d need to answer the question. There was something vulnerable in his face and his voice when he eventually said, “I’ve thought about it.”

  Her heart was suddenly pounding so hard it was all she could do to whisper, “Recently?”

  * * *

  You can’t answer that! his conscience dictated. She’s in love with you—it’s written all over her face. You answer that question honestly, she’ll know you love her and she’ll think the two of you have a future. Then when you get home and tell her the truth, the betrayal will devastate her.

  “Savannah...”

  The hopeful light in her gray eyes died. “That’s okay, Niall. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” She shut down her computer and scrambled off the bed, reaching for her purse. “I could use a cup of hot chocolate. How about you? There’s a coffee station right by the grand staircase, on the starboard side, but you can get tea and hot chocolate, too. They even have little cookies. I could put some in a cup for you if you’d like, and bring—”

  “Savannah.” He moved swiftly to block her exit. “I can’t let you go out alone. You’re still a target, remember?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and bit her lip. Then she looked at him again, and what he saw in her face seared him. “It’s just down the hallway, and I need to be alone for a bit. I’ll be careful, honest.”

  “Savannah.”

  “Please,” she begged.

  Anger born of shame made him grasp her arms and demand roughly, “What the hell do you want from me? Blood?”

  The silent tears suddenly welling in her eyes were the last straw, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t cry, Savannah. God, don’t. You’re killing me. Hit me, curse me. Slap my face and tell me to go to hell, but don’t cry. I can’t bear it.”

  She tore herself from his embrace and dashed the tears from her eyes. “I don’t want to hit you, Niall. And I don’t want to curse you, either. I just want a few minutes of privacy so I can get my emotions under control. Is that too much to ask?”

  “I’ll go for the hot chocolate you want,” he decided suddenly. “You stay inside and bolt the door.” He took a step back from her. “Fifteen minutes enough?”

  * * *

  Niall didn’t wait for a response, just double-checked the lock on the balcony door and was gone before she could agree or disagree. She stood there and stared at the door for a minute, wondering what the hell had just happened here. Then she mechanically moved to the door and bolted it.

  “Okay, yes, I started it,” she admitted. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And she was supposed to be so smart. What got into you asking that question?

  And crying? Oh please. You resigned without giving the real reason because you were terrified of crying in front of the men at work, and then you go and cry all over Niall? Nice going.

  She went into the bathroom for a washcloth, ran it under the cold water and held it over her eyes to eradicate any signs she’d been crying. She glanced at herself in the mirror when she was done to make sure, then headed back to the other room and sat on the edge of the bed. She tried to figure out what she could possibly say to Niall to salvage the rest of this trip together, to put them back onto their friendly “just lovers” footing, but instead her brain kept focusing on the things he’d said. Not what he’d said so much as the way he’d said it.

  And that’s when the flame of hope was rekindled.

  Because the note in his voice when he’d said, “I can’t bear it,” sounded awfully like a man who’d been pushed to the emotional breaking point...by the woman he loved.

  * * *

  Niall glanced at the coffee bar on his right, but kept on going. Hot chocolate would take five minutes, max, no matter how much he stretched it out, and he’d promised Savannah fifteen minutes at least.

  He strode into the Lounge Bar and thought about ordering a glass of wine, but decided against it. One glass wouldn’t affect him at all, he knew, but he didn’t want to use alcohol as a panacea. He’d known a few heavy drinkers in his Marine Corps days, and he wasn’t heading down that road.

  He exited through one of the bar’s side doors that would take him outside. It was cold and he’d come here without his jacket, but he figured he wouldn’t freeze in the next ten minutes, so he pressed on toward the riverboat’s bow.

  He crossed his arms and tucked his hands under his armpits to keep them warm, then just stood there staring out across the water. Wondering what the hell had just happened with Savannah, how he’d lost control. How he’d almost told her hell yeah!—his thoughts on changing his single status were recent. Very recent. Then wondering how he was going retrieve his position as her lover after this.

  Yeah, they could share her stateroom and sleep separately, that was always an option. Then he snorted in self-disgust. Piss-poor option, Jones. You think you can sleep in the same room with her and not go crazy with longing?

  Going back to his own cabin wasn’t an option either, because she still needed his protection 24/7. Which meant he had to think of something else...in the next few minutes.

  No ideas occurred to him, however. Nice going, Jones, that derisive little voice whispered in his head. You’re always the man with the plan. So where’s your plan?

  Plan. Plan. He had to come up with a plan. One that didn’t involve lying to Savannah, because he’d lied to her enough. And she knew it, but she’d forgiven him. She’d taken his hand beneath the table at lunch, telling him plain as words could make it that she still trusted him even though he’d deceived her. That she had faith in him. That she knew there was a valid reason for his deception. Why is that?

  The answer was staring him in the face, and had been, he realized, for days. Despite doing his damnedest to keep Savannah from falling in love with him...he’d failed.

  Don’t lie to yourself, the insidious internal voice said implacably. You didn’t do your damnedest to keep her from falling in love with you. Just the opposite. You did everything in your power to make her fall in love with you. You just didn’t realize it.

  “You’re right,” he whispered. Then laughed softly when he remembered Savannah saying talking to oneself was a bad habit single people easily fell into.

  He glanced at his watch and realized with a start he’d been gone far longer than fifteen minutes. He abruptly about-faced and headed back. Determined to do whatever it took to salvage their remaining time together.

  * * *

  The man and the woman sat in the front of the Observation Lounge, a little apart from the other passengers but still where they could watch Niall Johnson on the other side of the glass as he stood facing away from them.

  “We’re running out of time,” the woman reminded him as she sipped at her wineglass.

  “You think I don’t know that?” he growled.

  “What does Spencer say?”

  His smile was unpleasant. “He says to do whatever it takes.”

  She gaped at him. “Murder? You’re going to kill Johnson to get him out of the way?”

  “No choice. He’s in the way.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. He’s in the way, and he has to go.”

  “How?”

  He smiled again, the smile of a stone-cold killer. “I’m working on it.”

  * * *

  Savannah still hadn’t figured out what she was going to say to Niall
when she heard his forceful rap on her door. She looked through the peephole just to be on the safe side and confirmed that yes, her tall warrior was standing there, one arm propped against the doorway, his entire body radiating impatience.

  She fumbled with the bolt and threw the door open, then stared in puzzlement at his empty hands. “Where’s my hot chocolate?”

  She couldn’t have hit on a better opening line to break the ice if she’d tried, because he picked her up—just put his hands on her waist and lifted her right out of the doorway and into the room, letting the door swing shut behind them. He set her down, bolted the door, then turned back to her.

  “Let’s get one thing straight.” His voice was all dominant male. “We have no future. None.”

  “Okay.” He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know deep down, although it still gave her a pang to hear him put it into words.

  “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  “What?” She stared blankly, unable to wrap her head around it at first.

  “You heard me. I love you. You love me. But this tour is all we have.”

  “What?” she repeated, because she still couldn’t grasp what he was saying. He loved her? Not just cared, but loved? As in...loved?

  The growl that emanated from his throat sent tingles down her spine—the good kind—and she opened her mouth to say something. What, she wasn’t quite sure, but maybe... God, yes, I do love you.

  Only he didn’t give her a chance. His mouth closed over hers, swallowing her words as their tongues tangled. He lifted her up again almost effortlessly, and she wrapped her thighs around his hips. He was already aroused, and she whimpered with need that flared out of nowhere.

  He released her lips momentarily, but only to give them both a chance to breathe, because his mouth descended again in short order. Ravaged was the only word to describe it—but in the very best way. And she did the same to him. She clung to his shoulders and rocked against his hardness, kissing him as if her life depended on it—which it does, she thought in that fraction of a moment when she could think at all.