He looks at me. “Any compromising emails? Text messages? Skype?”
I groan and fall over on the cushions, curling into a tight fetal position. I’m so stupid. I’m never trusting anyone ever again. Can a thirty-one-year-old woman suck her thumb? I’m tempted to, but instead use my mouth to say, “Yes.”
“That’s an affirmative. Scan and eliminate, please. Also, Ms. Scott will need first-class accommodations to her place of residence as soon as possible. Could you—?” He pauses and listens again. “Thanks, Deakins. Any luck on pinging the location of Ms. Duffy’s laptop, iPad and cell?” He listens, then looks at me, giving me a quick shake of his head. “Have IT keep checking. That’s it for now. We’ll be heading home around six tonight, Medellin time. I’ll be in the office tomorrow morning.”
I watch him pace the room and my stomach twists when he glances at me again, his amber eyes seeming to know everything I’m thinking. The phone is still pressed to his ear, the muscles of his arm nearly bursting through his shirt. God, he’s one very impressive looking man.
He paces out to the balcony and the rumble of his deep voice grows softer, but I hear him say, “Excellent. Prepare the agreement. I’ll fly out Friday for the signing.” The material of his shirt stretches across his wide back as he leans an elbow on the balcony railing.
“Stop drooling.”
I grin and turn back to Link, who’s kicked back in the chair, shaking his head at me. “Can’t help it. He’s looking mighty fine.” I sit up, then stand to go crawl into his lap. “And it’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.” I kiss Link’s cheek and nuzzle my face in his neck. “And I’m so sorry for all the drama. I hate you had to witness all that.”
Holding me close, my brother soothes me, just like he’s done all my life. The rest of my family isn’t very touchy feely, but Link always lets me get close. He always soothes me or holds me while I cry. Or just lets me hang out. I need touch. Crave touch. Yearn for it. And with Link, I’m always, always safe.
Our nannies hated it.
Growing up, we didn’t have a lot of physical contact with our parents. We had nannies and there was a duty filled good night kiss in the evening, but I can’t ever remember just cuddling up to either of my parents.
I hug Link tighter, remembering how he’d sneak into my bed at night because he was afraid of the dark. Really afraid. He had night terrors, horrible dreams. Kind of like the nightmares he had after… I shudder. After Syria.
“You okay?”
I exhale and nod. “I was just thinking about when we were little and you used to have such terrible nightmares.” I laugh. “How mad the nannies would be when they found you in bed with me the next morning.”
He laughs too. “Shit. Remember that Hungarian witch? What was her name?”
“Nanny Nora.” Damn. How could he forget that battle axe of a woman? Sit up straight. Mind your manners. Knees together, young lady. The world need not know the color of your bloomers.
I groan. Nanny Nora would have a heart attack if she knew the world had evidence of my fondness of Brazilian waxes.
The nannies always said it wasn’t appropriate for a brother and sister to sleep together, and I never understood why. But we’ve always been close like that. I think we both were just starved for touch. For attention. For love. There was never anything wrong with it. Nothing ever sexual or dirty like the tabloids once tried to make it sound. I just needed him. He was the only person who ever let me be close like that.
There’s a grumble of laughter from the balcony and I focus my attention back on Tate. He’s pacing again. He does that. Hardly ever stops moving. He says something else, then pockets his phone. Then he walks back into the room and goosebumps raise on my arms.
He’s so beautiful.
Dark hair, golden eyes and skin bronzed by the sun. I smile. He has white areas around his eyes from wearing sunglasses too much. They crinkle at the corner as he smiles back. A flash of white teeth and I remember how those teeth feel on me. Scraping my skin, nipping my flesh.
I wish we had more time together.
I wish a lot of things.
“Deakins is on it and will let me know the results of the scans. No promises. If the images are on thumb drives…” He lifts a shoulder. “They’re also monitoring the emails of the top twenty tabloids. Might be able to intercept them there.”
I uncurl from Link’s lap and he gives me a boost to stand up. I go to Tate and wrap my arms around his waist. “Thank you for your help. For everything.” My face burns as tears try to build again. No matter how frustrating this gorgeous man can be. No matter how hard headed or controlling, he’s got my back. He’ll never know how much that means to me.
“Just remember that what we’re doing needs to stay under the radar.”
I hug him tighter. He’s officially breaking the law, I know it. Mr. Black and White has chosen to step into the gray area. For me.
“I’m sor—” I look up at him, so he can see the depth of my sincerity.
“Stop apologizing.” He pushes my bangs behind my ear and touches my earlobe before bending to kiss my temple, his lips sliding to the bruise I thought I’d covered so well. Then he unties the scarf I’d placed around my neck. I don’t even try to stop him, just watch his face darken as he traces a thumb over the bruises there.
He exhales and re-ties the scarf before settling his hands on my shoulders. “Ready to go out and replace your gear?”
I shove my hands into the pockets of my shorts, stopping myself from reaching for him, running my fingers along his chest, begging him to hold me. “Sure. Let me get some sandals on. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
Three hours later, I collapse into a chair at the Café Le Gris, two grumpy looking men right behind me. I suppress a giggle as they stack the bags they’ve been carrying into the corner next to our table. Two Mac bags hold a new laptop, iPad and phone while other electronics store bags are heavy with a new camera, video camera as well as all the accessories I’d need. I grin. And some I didn’t.
Snatching the phone from the Mac bag, I take it out of its box and power it on. The guys at the store charged it and completed the initial setup for me. All I needed to do was download all my info from the cloud and I’d be back into the technology loop. I kiss the screen, feeling more like myself with an electronic device in my palm.
Pulling my new backpack purse onto my lap, I unzip one of the compartments and pull out a small pot of lip balm I’d bought. I watch Tate watch me glide a fingertip full over my lips, my stomach tightening at his intensity. God, his eyes. The palest of brown. Cat like. The way they watch so closely. Pay attention. Absorb everything around him. Absorb me.
I squirm in my seat and finish smoothing the balm over my lower lip. Tate’s eyes dilate and…
Link swats me on top of the head with a menu. “Cut it out,” he warns playfully before turning his attention back to deciding on what to order.
I pout at getting caught trying to be seductive and lift my own menu, but glance up at Tate over the top. He’s still watching me, like a predator would watch its prey. I glance down at the menu, then back up. He’s still watching. I would give anything to know what he’s thinking. I would give anything to be experiencing what he’s thinking right now.
I’m distracted by a pretty server stepping politely up to our table, introducing herself in her flowing Spanish tongue. Both Tate and Link speak the language fluently and I know enough to get by. Soon, we’ve finished ordering and are sitting back with glasses of 3-Cordilleras beer. I shudder at the strong hoppy-looking stouts they’re drinking and wrap my hands around the pale ale I prefer. I may be a designer clothes fanatic, but I’m a cheap date when it comes to anything alcoholic.
“When will you be back in the States?” Tate asks, taking a long drink from his glass. Foam sticks to his upper lip and he wipes it away with his thumb. I squirm and he grins. Link grunts and lifts his icy mug.
“Next Wednesday. I’ll be in California fo
r a week, then in Tennessee for about ten days after that. I’m heading to Asia next, contrasting the rich and poor in Qatar.”
Janine’s words ring in my memory. Does that make you feel better? Like you’re doing something useful with your selfish, egotistical and pampered life?
I shake the image of her away and take another sip of my beer. “How about you?” I continue, my question addressed to Tate. “Where are you off to next?”
“Leaving Friday for Lashkar Gah. Learned this morning that Black Shield won the contract for designing a new training program for the rebels.” He grins at me. “Nearly a billion dollars over five years.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Moving up to your tax bracket.”
My heart sinks. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
He lifts a shoulder, his eyes not leaving mine. “It’s dangerous everywhere. Interestingly enough, I’ll be heading a group of Colombian special forces recruited for the job.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Colombian forces in Afghanistan. The two didn’t connect.
Link fills me in. “Colombian special forces are totally badass. Unlike the United States or other countries, they’ve been in a war almost every day, fighting in the mountains against narco-trafficking for years. And they kicked ass. Brought down some of the biggest rings and started to get the country in order.” He lifts a hand, indicating the city of Medellin around us. “Like here. This city was overrun with drugs and while some parts still are, there are huge sections that are thriving and building. The people are happy and feeling safer.”
“But,” Tate steps into the conversation. “Now, those same special force warriors are being heavily recruited to kick ISIS ass. And the men are going. They get triple pay for dealing with similar situations and terrain. Hell, over the past decade, Colombia has sharply reduced its murder and kidnapping rates. More so than just about any other country, so their results are proven. They are tremendous assets.” He finishes his beer and signals for another one. “And they want me to design the training program. Exciting as hell to be part of something that could take down those evil monsters once and for all.”
I look from Tate and Link to Tate again. I want to be happy for him. I want to smile and tell him how proud I am. And I am. I really am. And I’m also terrified. I almost lost my brother to war. I don’t want to lose Tate. I don’t think I could bear it.
I’m saved from having to say anything by our server bringing out our plates. Huge steaks for the guys and the Mexican salad for me. But my appetite is gone, even with the beautiful food in front of me.
“What’s wrong?” Tate asks and I plaster on a smile and pick up my fork, forcing myself to take a bite, using the excuse of chewing to not say anything.
He cuts a huge piece of rare steak, spears a potato and dips the entire forkful of food into some steak sauce he’s splattered on his plate. As he pops the huge bite into his mouth, I can’t help but smile, remembering the Doritos. And then I remember something else…
“So you won’t be coming to Tennessee for Christmas?”
Still chewing, he shakes his head and eyes me with those golden eyes. It’s another minute before he swallows and says, “Probably not. I’ll be knee deep in the training curriculum by then. Not sure it will be possible.” He nudges my shoe with his foot. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget to send you a present.”
Ridiculously, I feel tears burn the back of my eyes and I focus them down on the salad until I regain control. He nudges my shoe again. “I’ll try to visit in the spring. Maybe we can go away somewhere for a weekend then.” I nod, but spring is nearly a year from now.
Link groans and tosses his napkin down just as his phone begins to ring. “Saved by the bell,” he mutters and stands up, pulling the phone from his pocket and heading outside for some privacy.
Tate is still looking at me, his shoe still pressing against mine. “I miss you too, you know that, right?”
I swallow. From the first moment we laid eyes on each other, the connection between the two of us was electric. We’re very different, but none of that matters when we touch. The first time we’d had sex had nearly rocked my world from its axis, and if I’m not mistaken, it rocked his world too. But then he walks away, refusing to sleep with me, refusing the closeness I crave.
I don’t know why. He won’t talk about it. Gets pissed off when I ask.
“Yes, I know. I—”
I stop speaking as Tate’s eyes leave mine and he looks at something over my shoulder. I turn to look in that direction and see Link still on the phone. He’s pacing, one hand on top of his head, the other pressing the cell to his ear. I can’t see his face, but something is terribly wrong.
I stand and turn toward him, but Tate puts a hand on my shoulder. “Give him a minute,” is all he says. I wait and Link turns to me, giving me a little shake of his head. Then he begins pacing again.
Tate’s thumb presses into the tight muscle of my shoulder and I realize how tight my entire body has become. I’m still sore from yesterday’s struggle and then the stress of everything since. Tate’s other hand joins the first and he works the muscles with his long fingers. I watch Link. Watch him pace. Watch him cover his eyes with his hand. Finally, I watch him tap the screen of the phone and shove it in his pocket.
He heads in our direction. When he’s close enough, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Grace’s papaw. He’s had a heart attack. He’s in surgery right now.”
I gasp and my hand flies up to my mouth.
Although I’m rarely there, I have a home in East Tennessee, wanting to be near Link and Grace and my nieces and nephews. Since living there, Grace’s family has pretty much adopted me as one of their own. Grace’s mom has tried to help me learn to cook, so has Grace’s nana and grandma. They just laugh when I ruin everything I touch. I adore all of her relatives, especially her papaw. He’s as country and gruff as they come and will tell you what he’s thinking no matter what. I can see him now, wearing his old faded overalls and John Deere cap.
“How bad?” I finally ask, but Link just shakes his head.
“Not sure yet. He went hunting this morning and didn’t come home for lunch. They went looking for him and found him not far from his truck. Apparently Grace was able to do CPR while they got him to the hospital. Probably saved his life, but she’s a wreck, thinking she should have done more.”
Grace is the angel sent into my brother’s life to save him, in all the ways a person can be saved. She’s a nurse and physical therapist who helped him recover physically after a devastating injury. And she did more than that. She helped him heal emotionally and spiritually. And, he did the same thing for her.
Tate calls for the check while Link starts gathering bags. I grab some off the floor and wipe at the tears flooding my face.
I recall the time Papaw Johnson told me he wanted a word with me. How he headed out of the door, expecting me to follow. When we’d gotten as far as the pond, he’d said, “I know we’re no relation, but I’m about to treat you as such.” I remember my heart freezing in my chest. “Heard about those pictures of you with that model woman on that there god awful internet and Grace told me how you almost didn’t come home cause you were too ashamed.”
Papaw Johnson had bent down and picked up a few flat rocks and reared back to skip one across the smooth pond surface. I didn’t say anything; my throat had been too thick with emotion for words, embarrassment being the strongest. I’d simply watched him throw another rock and counted the skips. Five.
“Now, I don’t understand all that gay and lesbian lifestyle stuff,” he went on and I nearly choked on my own spit. “Why some guy would want a wiener up his outhouse, I’ll never understand. But, love is love I suppose and I ain’t one to judge cause I wouldn’t want nobody judging me. And I want you to know that I won’t be judging you and I don’t want you to ever be ashamed to come home.”
I’d cried then, but he’d only handed me a rock and began instructing me on how to toss it just right. I hadn’t beat his
five, but I’d gotten it to skip four. Then he’d tossed an arm over my shoulders and walked me back to the house. That had been that. He’d said what he’d wanted to say. I’d never felt so accepted.
After Tate pays the bill, he takes some of the bags from my hands and we follow Link out of the door. He juggles their weight and calls his pilot, and my heart falls into my feet at his instructions.
“We have an emergency,” he says into the phone. “We need to be in the air to Tennessee within the hour.”
Chapter Seven – Tate
The look on Camille’s face as I tell my pilot we have to leave early is almost too hard to witness. In that moment, I see how alone and afraid she really feels.
I know she cares about Grace’s grandfather. Hell, Grace’s entire family. I’d offer to take her with us, but she doesn’t have her new passport yet. A billion illegal immigrants can pour over the border with no trouble, but her ass would be in a sling if she was caught without proper paperwork.
Of course, I could smuggle her in. I grin as I imagine her stuffed in a suitcase. I look down at her. She would fit.
“Do you want to come with us?” I ask her as we hail down a cab, deciding it’s worth the risk. Hell, at worse it would only cost me a few thousand dollars to grease some palms in all likelihood. Flying a private aircraft has its benefits.
She smiles, but just shakes her head. “The entire crew is coming tonight. I better stay here. Besides, I’d just be in the way.”
Shit.
I look at my watch and realize it’s not even two o’clock Medellin time and her security detail isn’t expected until around five. Three hours on her own. She should be safe in her room for that length of time. Then I remember the scrape of the chair across her hotel floor before she opened the door this morning. I remember seeing it pushed out of the way after the Janine drama played out.
“Why did you bar your door last night?” I ask her and her cheeks turn immediately pink.
Duff looks over at her, then at me. “Answer him, Camille.”
Badass: Jungle Fever (Complete): A Billionaire Military Romance Page 6
