Call of Duty [Class of '93 Trilogy Book 3]

by Felicia Forella

  Her heart bottomed out at the mere thought. She didn't want to die down here in some Latin American shit hole. But when Chad didn't show up, what other options were available? Poor Jackson. He'd be left without a mother and a father because she couldn't see dipwad coming back for his kid under any circumstances. Her father, who should be getting ready to enjoy his retirement, would raise her son, of that she had no doubt. But he shouldn't have to.

  Dammit, he shouldn't have to.

  The door swung open without the perfunctory knock this time. Casey looked up and slid off her chair in a disbelieving heap.

  A flight suit-clad Chad stood framed in the doorway.

  Chapter 15

  "No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country.

  He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard

  die for his country."

  Attributed to General George Patton Jr.

  Relief flooded Chad's system as his gaze found Casey, unharmed and in one piece. When she fell off her chair, panic took over and he rushed to her side. Grabbing her hand, he watched a myriad of emotions wash over her beautiful face—relief, disbelief, and anger. He'd have to address the last two, God only knew what they'd told her. But first he had to hold her in his arms and reassure his aching heart that he hadn't caused her any physical pain. Yet.

  "Casey, honey, are you okay?” He brushed back strands of her silken hair with one hand as he wrapped his other arm around her waist.

  She jumped out of his embrace, looking at him as if he disgusted her. She crab-walked away from him, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe. “What the hell are you doing here? Why the hell are you here?” She grabbed a plate from the table and launched it at him with lethal accuracy. Only swift reflexes kept it from shattering on his head instead of harmlessly against the wall.

  Shit. They had to talk and now. Before she castrated him or disemboweled him. But his first priority was to do a sweep of the room. Gesturing to her to keep talking, he prayed she'd follow his lead as he initiated a thorough search of the usual hiding places for bugs. He pulled a small, simplistic detector from one of his many pockets.

  "They told me you were bringing them a jet. That can't be right."

  "It is. I flew here this evening in the JSF.” He ran his hand under all the tables in the room then went to work on the lamps and shades.

  "The what? How did you manage that?” Her eyes widened, maybe because of what he'd said or perhaps because of what he was doing. She hurled a glass at him this time.

  "Not that I owe you any explanations, but I kept the coast to my left until I got to Cancuen.” Ah, paydirt. Antonio should have been smarter. Small listening devices were stuck in the intricate folds of the lamp shades on either side of the bed, but Chad's equipment hadn't detected any cameras. He pointed to them and gestured for her to continue. Thankfully, she kept talking.

  "That's not what I meant and you know it. How could you do such a thing? It's ... it's treason. If they catch you, they'll give you the death penalty.” Fear marred her pretty face. Thank heavens she felt more than anger, giving him something with which to work.

  "They won't catch me. I'll do what I have to do here and head to Brazil.” Finishing his search of the rest of the room, he moved to the bathroom.

  "But why?"

  Stepping back into the main room, he delivered his well-practiced speech, the one that would ring true with Antonio, who was undoubtedly listening to the show. “Because the Air Force took away everything that meant anything to me. They took my wife and my son. If I'd have been able to stay in Las Vegas, I'd have been with Brenda and John and they'd have been at home, not out on the road to be killed by a drunk driver."

  She looked as if he'd slapped her. This wasn't the way he'd wanted to tell her about his first wife and their son. His hand had been forced and he'd do whatever he could to keep them safe.

  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need a shower.” He walked back to the bathroom and gestured for her to follow him, hoping and praying she'd do so. She'd be well within her rights to never speak to him again. If that was the case, he'd find some other way to explain everything to her.

  He felt her standing at the door, the hair on the back of his neck bristling, the same sensation he'd felt the first time he'd been in her presence. Turning, he pulled her farther into the room and shut the door, leaving it open only a crack.

  She started to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips. He needed to speak first. “If we need to talk, it has to be in here. The bedroom is bugged.” He fiddled with the knobs and started the shower.

  "But not here?"

  "No, I guess you're allowed to shower in peace. Either that or they don't want to listen to people singing in the shower.” She cracked a smile for a brief second before she fixed a frown on her lips. “I can't tell you everything. I'll never be able to tell you everything. But I can tell you it's not what you think. I'm not acting alone on this and there's a bigger reason I'm here."

  "So you're not committing treason?"

  "Good God, no!"

  "Oh, thank heavens. I didn't want to believe, hoped, that they'd made a mistake.” She slumped forward into his arms, her body pressed to his.

  Despite the crappy timing and the even worse location, he claimed her lips in a searing kiss. The need to reaffirm his connection to her branded him, and made him want to brand her. Foregoing the preliminaries, he forged into her mouth. She tasted sweet, fruity, and oh-so-delicious. He stroked along her tongue, coaxing her to join him, to match his movements. For one, two heartbeats, she remained distant. In the span between beats three and four, she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with equal fervor.

  His hands dropped to her succulent ass, clutching it and pulling her closer. His cock throbbed at the close contact and demanded more. Gathering the reins of his rapidly disintegrating control, he backed out of the kiss but continued to hold her close. He'd never let go again, not now.

  His breath caught in his throat and his heart hammered in his chest, making speech difficult. “God, when I thought, when Luz sent that picture, I wanted to go mad.” Or maybe it was the emotions causing the problem. “When I realized that Luz had kidnapped you to ensure my cooperation, I almost lost it. I still want to make them pay for what they've done to you."

  She cupped the back of his head and drew him close. “I'm fine. Especially now that I know you're not defecting or doing something equally stupid. I'm just worried about my father and Jackson. They'll be so worried, not knowing where I am."

  Little did she know that her father was more anxious because he knew her whereabouts. Not that he'd be able to tell her. “I'll get you back to them, soon, I promise."

  He wanted nothing more than to allow his cock free rein, to carry her into the shower and fuck her like there was no tomorrow. The reality was, there might not be. First, he needed to talk to Antonio to begin the pretext of training a pilot. Then he needed to figure out how to get the both of them out of here and to the helicopter rescue location. He wished Braedon Powell would be the one piloting the bird; he'd been the best damn pilot around. So good, he'd made Chad believe that helicopters actually flew and that they weren't so ugly the earth just repelled them.

  "Why didn't you tell me about your wife and son?"

  How the hell did he answer that one? How did he explain that it wasn't something he preferred to think about, let alone talk about?

  "I wanted to; I planned to.” She snorted and looked at him as if he were the lamest male on the planet. Hell, it sounded lame to him. “By the time I realized that you deserved to know, all hell exploded around us.” Marginally better.

  "Do you still love her?” Pain filled her eyes and he wanted to erase it.

  The large bathroom boasted a vanity with a bench seat. He sat on it and pulled her to his lap. He had so much to explain. “I never loved her and she only loved my money. But I wanted my son, loved him from the moment I learned about him.” The words spilled from his soul a
s he shared the whole story with Casey, a story no one else knew. Most people, including his family, only knew the bits and pieces he chose to reveal. This woman deserved to know everything.

  "I saw you at the cemetery."

  "You—” She'd seen him? Had it only been this morning? It felt like a lifetime ago.

  "I went to visit my mother. I needed to talk to her about...” She lowered her eyes.

  "Us?” Please, please, please, let her be thinking in terms of an us.

  "Yes! How did you—” He loved the surprised look on her pretty face.

  "Because that's why I went, too.” He couldn't tell her about the conversation, not yet. First things first, like surviving this little adventure. “Now I need you to go back out there, to yell, scream, rant, rave, anything. Just be furious with me. They need to believe that you think I'm a son of a bitch. We can't have them watching us too closely."

  "I'm not that good an actress."

  "You have to be, darlin', our lives depend on it.” He kissed her once then set her on her feet.

  Her scent lingered as she walked to the door, a hint of long-ago-applied perfume mixed with a hint of fear combined with her natural bouquet. He'd wipe away that fear so that he'd be allowed to smell the others for a long, long time. She was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever met. No, that wasn't quite right, he needed a word for something beyond gorgeous because that was too mild a description. From the tip of her honey-blonde head, past the soft, ripe, womanly curves of her body, all the way to her tiny toes, and deep inside her soul, she radiated beauty.

  And he wanted her. Passionately. Desperately. He wanted to adopt Jackson and be a real father to that little boy. He wanted to watch her belly grow with their child.

  Most of all, he wanted to get them the hell out of here.

  He took a quick shower and stepped back into his flight suit. Leaving the top hanging from the waist, he donned his t-shirt. As he walked through the bathroom door, something zinged past him, just missing his head and crashing into the wall.

  "You son of a bitch. You bastard."

  He ducked as another UFO whizzed past. “Don't go insulting my mother.” He hoped he kept the laughter out of his voice.

  "If your mama raised a man who could coldly betray his country, then I'll damn well insult her.” With that, she launched into the mother of all temper tantrums.

  And she thought she wasn't that good an actress.

  * * * *

  Chad snatched open the door, startling the guards. They'd have one heck of a story to share with the others. “I want to see Antonio.” They exchanged looks with each other instead of answering. “Now."

  The more muscle-bound of the two gestured with his rifle, poking him in the back with the barrel as they began to walk. He noted each step, each turn, the number of doors as they wound through the hall. Pillaging and selling drugs must pay well, the compound was the height of luxury. The terra cotta tiles gleamed, the gold fixtures were no doubt gold-plated.

  Finally, the guard paused in front of a set of double doors and knocked. The rapid-fire conversation in Spanish took less than a minute. Chad sent up a word of thanks that General Covington had managed to send him to the Defense Language Institute in Monterey. He needed every advantage available.

  The door swung open on silent hinges. “Bienvenidos a Cancuen, Señor Monroe."

  Bienvenidos his ass. He fixed Antonio with his sternest gaze, his hands fisted on his hips. “I'd say I'm glad to be here, but I'm not very happy right now."

  "What have we done to earn your displeasure?"

  "Why is the woman here?"

  "Ah, that was my sister's doing. Mi hermana did not trust you as much as my father did or I do. She felt it necessary to provide a little insurance."

  Antonio had spent a number of years living in the United States after his father had been captured the first time and brought to justice. He'd even gone to school at a large university in Pennsylvania. The affected speech patterns and the accented English must be a way of reintegrating himself in his father's organization. That was a move the United States government hadn't anticipated. When Ramos Senior had been killed trying to kill the Air Force officer who'd been responsible for his arrest, the wonks at the State Department and the Defense Department assumed the power vacuum would cause the collapse of the group. Instead, Ramos Junior stepped into the void and began a rapid attempt to become a player on the global terrorism market.

  That would come crashing down—or maybe blowing up—soon.

  "The money you've paid me is insurance enough. I feel it necessary for her to leave."

  "She may leave with you when you have completed the training."

  "So you don't trust me, either. I'm hurt."

  "Now that we have her, it would be foolish not to keep her."

  He'd guessed they'd never let her go, but he'd had to try. “If she is harmed in any way, I'm outta here."

  "Understood."

  "When are your two pilots ready to begin?"

  "They are anxious for this to begin. Tomorrow morning is soon enough. You may return to your room now."

  "With the woman? I don't think she wants me there."

  The smirk on Antonio's face told Chad he'd heard everything. “I hear you have a way with women. I'm sure you will be able to convince her."

  The door swung open. He'd been dismissed.

  With the barrel of the weapon digging at the small of his back, he was returned to the room, thankful Ramos hadn't separated him from Casey. The task of getting them both out alive was daunting enough without having to find her. It was going to be tricky enough to fight through the rainforest surrounding the compound to the only clearing suitable for a rescue pick-up. The closest deforested piece of land was the one they optimistically called an airfield. Damn, if he'd wanted to land on a pitch-black platform with no room for error he'd have gone into the Navy. The surveillance maps showed a smaller field two miles past that. Three miles total. It didn't sound like much until it had to be done after dark, in night vision goggles, avoiding men who'd just as soon kill for the hell of it.

  Just another day's fucking work.

  He had a week to learn what he could about any plans already implemented and any sleeper elements, “train” their pilots to fly, and get the hell out of Dodge. After that week, he was on his own without any assistance from the United States military. Now, on top of that, he had to worry about Casey.

  Well, at least things couldn't get any worse.

  He opened the door to their temporary lodging and was welcomed back by something shattering above his head. Damn, her aim had improved. He dusted off pieces of porcelain and glass from his shoulders.

  "What kind of secrets did you tell him? How much money is he paying you?"

  No matter what she thought, she was a good actress. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Somehow or other, they'd get through this.

  "I think you need to calm down."

  "Calm down? Calm down? First I get kidnapped and flown to this godforsaken Third World hellhole. Then I learn that the man I love is some sort of terrorist-aiding traitor. And you want me to calm down?"

  Did she just say...

  You love me? He mouthed the words and received an enthusiastic head nod in return. Oh, yeah, he'd get them the hell out of here if he had to kill someone. Four steps had him across the room, so close to her that her breath fanned his cheek. Scooping her up, he tossed her on the bed, the caveman maneuver earning him a shriek of outrage to cover her laugh.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?” With her skirt tangled around her thighs and her legs splayed wide, she was the most delectable thing he'd ever seen.

  "I'm going to show you just who's in charge around here."

  He pulled off his clothing in record time, anxious to be with her. She yelled when he climbed on the bed, even as she opened her arms to him. When he tore her shirt taking it off, she screamed. Antonio and any number of sadistic sons of bitches were no doubt getting off at the th
ought of a rape.

  That was my only shirt, she mouthed.

  Oops. He had a couple of extra t-shirts if they were unable to scrounge up anything else.

  Her oh-so-ample breasts filled out the cups of her bra, her nipples poking at the fabric. Reaching behind her, he flicked open the hooks and moaned as he freed her from the garment.

  "Oh, no, please, don't.” She sounded half hysterical but her eyes pleaded with him to touch her.

  "If you don't shut up, I'm going to gag you.” God, he wanted to laugh when she stuck out her tongue.

  Need to posses, to claim, swamped him. He had to be inside her, feel her legs wrapped around his waist, show her what she meant to him. Sliding his hands up the outside of her thighs, he gripped the edge of her panties and pulled. He covered her body with his, moaning at the perfection.

  "Oh, please, please.” To the listening audience, she was begging him to stop. To his eyes, she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.

  The head of his cock pushed against her, the moist heat almost causing him to come right then and there. Crap. He dropped his head to the pillow by her shoulder and breathed in her scent. For her ears only, he whispered. “I don't have a condom.” He had a couple in the cockpit, for all the good they did him now.

  "I don't care. I've never been with anyone but Brian and after he left, I got tested. I'm fine."

  "I've never not used protection.” He'd have to explain that comment, but not now, not with his dick aching to plunge into her.

  "Make love to me, Chad."

  He braced back up on his elbows as he joined them, inch by excruciating inch. When his cock was completely sheathed in her incredible pussy, he brushed her lips with his. “I love you, too."

  She smiled, the most beautiful look he'd ever seen on her face. He levered his hips, rocking their bodies together. He moved with slow, methodical thrusts despite the fact the she dug her heels into his ass in an effort to force him to move. No way was he being rushed. The sensation of skin to skin contact pushed him close to the breaking point and he wanted this to last for more than a minute.