Code Name_War 0f Stones

by Natasza Waters

  Her father told her silence was a powerful weapon. She used it now but since her father was a SEAL and so was Damon, they probably both employed the same rule.

  He leaned over and radiated her with his stare. She couldn’t help herself, envisioning him following the line of her lips with his wet tongue.

  “Agreed?”

  “Seaman Sloane Austen, 7878—”

  He chuckled with a confidence that annoyed and warmed her. Damon’s finger traced a line across her chin and up to her lips. “Surrender.”

  Was he talking about him or his two delusional provisions? Well, one was delusional. She narrowed her eyes. “Never.”

  “Word?”

  “Stubborn.”

  A growl rolled up his throat. “There’s one thing I was wondering.”

  She raised a brow.

  Lifting himself onto an elbow, he hovered above her, his chest barely brushing hers. “Do you really believe you have to pay for a man to make love to you?”

  Sloane flushed red and thanked the heavens the sun hadn’t risen yet. Heat shot her internal temperature into languid twisting waves of desire, and patience wasn’t her strong suit. “Think you can do a better job?”

  Something blazed to life in his eyes. “I don’t think you could handle lightning between your sweet thighs, Sloane.”

  An ache in her sex made her flinch. She swallowed deeply to calm her raging hormones.

  “What’s the matter, Seaman Austen, are you uncomfortable talking about sex?” A tight grin stretched across perfect white teeth, and he reminded her of a wolf instead of a man.

  The balance of power had just shifted between them. Damon simply assumed it without effort. She was in biiiiig trouble.

  “What did you say you’re a specialist in?” she asked, trying her damnedest not to sound too breathy.

  His head tilted with a subtle nod of approval, as if she’d hit the target dead on. “I didn’t. Can you guess?” His full lips skirted across her collar bone without touching her skin, causing a white-hot searing heat in her core.

  It wasn’t a stretch for her to figure out. “Interrogation.” She swallowed. “Persuasion.”

  “Very intuitive, Seaman Austen.” Her heart stopped when the pad of his thumb barely strummed the side of her breast, making her nipple peak with need.

  Being stuffed in a cage was nothing. This was torture.

  His jaw shifted just enough to tell her he’d noticed her body’s reaction.

  “What do you want from me?” Her hand slipped down his abs, following each hard swell until she reached his firm, flat stomach and stopped only inches from his erection. He might be leading her down the garden path, but he wasn’t impervious either.

  Damon groaned when she swiped her finger just under the waistband of his pants. Two could play this game.

  “All you want is my safe word?”

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes darkening. “And then when you’re safe, and finished pining over Randy, I’m going to break my own rule, again—and again.”

  He didn’t specify what rule he’d be breaking, but she would not give up the word, regardless if her quick, shallow breaths exposed her overpowering lust for him.

  Hiding behind her desire sat the truth, and she pushed him away. “Ya know, you’re a jerk. You’re playing me, aren’t you?” She stood up and glared down at him. “You think I’m going to soften and give you the word because I can’t control my urges. Fall head-over-heels with a schoolgirl crush. Think again.”

  Damon sighed and rolled onto his back, tucking his forearms behind his head.

  Holy hell, she felt like kicking him in the ribcage. “Say something, asshole.”

  His gaze slid from the heavens to her. “You finished your tantrum?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Pretty language. Doesn’t suit you, Sloane.”

  She shoved a pointed finger in his direction. “You’re pissed because you couldn’t seduce the word from me, admit it.” He didn’t move, lying there all composed and relaxed. Why was she letting him get under her skin? He was the professional. She wasn’t. He’d had all the courses to train him how to coerce someone. Find their weakness, and was using his techniques against her. Trying to trick her.

  “I’m sleeping over there.” She whisked her jacket from the ground and put ten feet between them. “Goodnight, asshat.”

  He just didn’t give up. Once she’d settled in her new location, Damon knelt with one knee beside her. “Listen, I’m not playing you, but I need to end this exercise before you get hurt. You can hate me if you want.”

  Tucking her legs together and covering her breasts, she rolled to face him and propped herself up on one hand. In a stern voice, she demanded, “Don’t intimate something you don’t feel. I hate being manipulated. Until this second, I started to believe your story about the female stalker, but it’s a lie, just like everything else that pours out of a SEAL’s mouth.” She swallowed thickly, tears pressing at the backs of her eyes. Then angry at herself for allowing him to push her into an emotional girly corner.

  Damon’s gaze shifted to where his hand brushed a curl of hair from her shoulder. He sat there, dazed as if in deep thought. Then his beautiful eyes flashed to look into hers. He inhaled deeply and said, “What I feel doesn’t change a thing, Sloane. I am older than you. What I said in the cage is true. I have to do the right thing. The honorable thing. I hope you can understand and accept that because if I let go of the reins, I won’t be able to stop.”

  * * * *

  As the sun made its first appearance over the hillside, Damon lifted his face to the warmth. Not a cloud in sight. The air already promised a hot day.

  Sloane waded into the pool to clean up. He sat motionless, but not emotionless, watching her. She impressed the hell out of him. Tenacious. Sensual. Funny. Smart. He could go on, but those were enough to convince him he wanted to keep this woman close. Who would have guessed after experiencing really bad with the crazy bitch stalking him, he’d run headlong into—perfection. He shook his head. Perfection seven years too young for him.

  He scanned the surrounding hillside, looking for movement. Movement that didn’t belong.

  All clear.

  Sloane waded without reservation from the water, standing completely, and more importantly, most alluringly naked in front of him. She used her hand to swipe the extra droplets from her skin.

  Last night she’d floored him by asking at point blank range whether he wanted her or not. Was she insane? Of course, he fucking wanted her. And it got worse by the hour. He’d give just about anything to request two weeks leave and book them on a flight to some tropical island—deserted—with one grass hut and a king size bed. As unrealistic as that dream was, he’d kill for the chance to have her under his body. Make her feel pleasure like she’d never known. The fantasy gave him the motivation he needed to get them out of this mess.

  He jumped to his feet, then snagged her jacket from the ground and held it out for her to push her arms through.

  “Ya think you can find a little soldier to knock out today so I can have some pants?”

  He broke out laughing. “We’ll see about that.” He turned her toward him and clutched her sweet ass in his palms. “I kinda like it this way.”

  “Sure,” she drawled, “but you don’t have to worry about flying insects.”

  That drew another laugh from him, and he swatted Sloane’s ass to get her moving. He’d climbed the hillside earlier and spent time watching the valley between them and the direction where the highway lay.

  They could make it, easily, but there would be patrols out looking for them. He’d heard a chopper earlier but it passed to the north of them by five kilometers or so, depending on how the terrain altered the echo of the blades. He figured ten clicks would get them to a point on the highway where they could pull back to hide if they had to, and there was no doubt in his mind they’d have to. Convincing someone to stop would be another hurdle.

  Today would be a
hard grind with no way to carry water. If they made it without being seen, they’d be tired and dehydrated.

  “I can do it, if you can do it,” Sloane said.

  His mouth curved with a smile. The woman was already reading his thoughts. She was everything he wanted and never believed existed in one woman. “I know you can.”

  She looked determined, and he wasn’t going to let her down.

  * * * *

  Three hours passed without a sign of the General’s troops. That in itself made Damon leery. Maybe their resources were stretched thin if the remaining couples had succeeded in extracting themselves. If they had, he was sure there were more dead soldiers, more reason for payback.

  He halted in a small clearing and Sloane took the extra step to stand beside him. She remained silent, listening. The tree growth around them thick enough to conceal someone. Cricket song came from every direction.

  A dry twig snapped.

  Not good. He scanned options. With a weapon strung on each of his shoulders, he slowly brought one down in readiness. He didn’t want to kill an American, but he’d use it to stall them.

  Like a ghost appearing from shadow, Winston with his little redhead tucked behind him, and Randeen with the blonde, appeared from a grouping of pine trees.

  Damon lowered his weapon. The men scanned their surroundings before stepping out.

  Both gals looked tired, but when they saw Sloane they sprinted for her, and all three women hugged each other hard.

  “Thank God,” Sloane said, spending a longer reflection on the little redhead. She looked exhausted and scared.

  “Is it good news or bad?” Damon asked, pounding a fisted hand to each of Randeen and Winston’s.

  “Not good, sir,” Winston answered, his expression tight.

  The petite blonde and the redhead were dressed exactly like Sloane, except they had their underwear. Oversized camo jackets covered their bodies, dripping to their thighs. Sloane had zipped hers up when the others appeared and he knew she must be sweltering in it.

  The little redhead limped back to Winston’s side, and he curled his arm around her. “Katy, are you okay?” He looked down at her with concern.

  “I’m hanging in there.”

  “Damon Stone,” he said, realizing they’d never got a proper introduction prior to the exercise.

  “Katy Carmicheal,” the little redhead offered. “Public Affairs.”

  The blonde stepped up. “Eliza Graithe, Navy Occupational Safety & Health Department.”

  Ironic or what? “Well, I guess it’s important to get you ladies safely out of here. I’m sure you’ve got a few reports you want to write,” Damon said.

  Both of them snorted. Katy flung her red hair across her shoulder. “I’m going to bury that bastard in a media nightmare. Not to mention the State Department, JAG and every other place I can go to have that son-of-a-bitch court martialed and thrown in prison for the rest of his life,” she said, as if taking a sovereign oath.

  Winston’s brow quirked with humor seeing his little redhead all fired up. He stood behind her and both arms circled her in a protective way, snug against his chest.

  Damon swung his gaze to Randeen, who did the same with Eliza. The General was right on one count, they had become very close with their partners.

  Sloane wandered to his side.

  “Sloane, right?” Randeen said, stretching his arm out to shake her hand.

  She nodded.

  “Katy says you’re Admiral Austen’s daughter,” Winston said.

  Unlike the other women, Sloane didn’t reach for Damon. Didn’t look for his physical touch to support her. Instead, her chin raised just a touch. “That’s right,” she answered.

  Winston shook his head. “Not very good planning on the General’s part. I know your dad, he’s going to tear the General to fucking pieces when he finds out.”

  “Sitrep?” Damon asked, wanting to know what had gone down and avoid the thought of what the Admiral might do to him if he didn’t get Sloane out of here unscathed.

  Winston shot a look at Randeen, whose expression tightened. “Six of the couples, including that Marine Recon recruit, Benson, are still back there. Three of the couples are dead, but Arnett Cocks and his gal escaped like we did.”

  Sloane stiffened beside him. “Delta, it’s for Romeo,” she said quietly.

  “What does that mean, Sloane?” Damon asked as the other couples turned their attention on her too.

  “Admiral Paulson got a message to me through Lieutenant Milstrom, the RN assigned to this exercise. Delta, it’s for Romeo.”

  Damon flicked through the catalogue in his brain and came up empty.

  Sloane swatted at a bug that came too close to her face. “Dad and Paulson had their own lingo, probably a fall back from their days on the teams. It means danger, it’s for real. They used it to describe an exceptionally hazardous mission. I think Paulson expected this and he was trying to warn me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the General has a cover-up waiting in the wings.”

  “Nothing will cover this up,” Katy said, screwing her delicate red brows tightly together.

  Sloane shook her head in disagreement. “They can. The CIA has plenty of resources. I think we can all disappear or even be forced into keeping quiet about what happened.”

  “When did you extract?” Damon asked, not wanting to dwell on maybes.

  Randeen brushed a lock of Eliza’s hair aside. “Soon after you. When you terminated the soldier, we knew there had to be a good reason. The General’s men weren’t playing by any rules. Eliza told me what this was about. It got clear pretty fast that we couldn’t hold back. We took on the Army brats in a rush while they figured out their next step.”

  “Who went down?” he asked coolly.

  “Thompson, he was another Marine, and Barnette.”

  “Ah shit, he was a good SEAL.” Damon swallowed thickly. “Barnette was just back from his first deployment.” To be taken out by US forces in this fucked up scenario was sickening.

  “And Swanson,” Randeen added.

  Damon shook his head. “Don’t know him.”

  “He just transferred here from the East Coast. Good guy,” Winston said. “I was out for beers with him last week.”

  “What about their partners?” Sloane asked tightly.

  Katy’s eyes welled with tears. “They stayed beside them. The women were shot and fell with their partners.”

  They all stood in stunned silence.

  This was so fucking wrong. Damon breathed deeply to control his anger. “We need to get to the highway.”

  “That’s what we thought,” Winston said. “We stayed low in the woods last night, but every move we made, we ran into a patrol. Finally figured out the women had tracking devices. Once we got rid of those, we kept watch, but haven’t seen any movement. Just a couple fly-bys.”

  “Same,” Damon confirmed. “Got any ideas?”

  “Doesn’t make sense, does it?” Randeen said, resting his chin on his little blonde’s head.

  “Nope. Not unless they’re banking on us coming to them to get the rest out,” Damon surmised.

  “Is that what you’re going to do?” Sloane asked, her body language powering up to disagree.

  “Once you’re on your way back to San Diego, yes.”

  “No,” she said sharply, her brow tightening into hard lines.

  “We’re going to get you out of here. You’re going to blow the whistle to your father and get the Calvary rolling. We’ll try to extract the rest of the couples, but if not, we know there’s backup on the way.”

  She took an angry step toward him. “Not happening, Lieutenant Stone.”

  “Sloane—”

  “Fuck that! We are a team. You heard Admiral Paulson.”

  The lieutenant in him had no choice but to make an appearance. He was about to break a SEAL officer’s unwritten rule. Never, ever, try to pull rank on your wife or girlfriend. He had to remind himself she was neither. “Yes, I heard h
im,” he said, raising his voice.

  Sloane’s temper flared. “We are staying together.”

  Damon leaned over her, knowing his gaze threw sharp daggers her way. “Your safety comes first. This is a military operation and you will do as I say, Seaman Austen.”

  Sloane’s index finger came up like a spear, and she jabbed him in the chest. “Were you not listening, Lieutenant? I heard Major Curtis say rank doesn’t matter, position doesn’t matter. We are a team and Paulson said we are your partners, and for you to listen up.”

  Damon stepped back and offered a dismissive shrug. “I’m not arguing about this. Get your ass moving.”

  “Screw you.” She crossed her arms tightly and one hip dropped in an I’m-not-going-anywhere stance.

  “If I have to fucking carry you, I will.” He swiveled quickly and threw both weapons toward the other men. Randeen and Winston snapped them out of the air like batons. “Move,” he growled at her.

  She did, taking a step backwards, searing him with a narrowed glare.

  Two steps, one heave, and Sloane was over his shoulder.

  “Goddamn it, put me down.” She hammered on his back with her tiny fists.

  She wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe she could get away with murder with her father, but not him. Hoisted over his shoulder, her bare ass in the air, Damon slapped her butt hard. She screeched and started to kick.

  “Quiet! You want to bring the entire Army down on us?” He started to trek toward the highway. Sloane wiggled for all that she was worth, but he had a good, solid hold on her. “Stop squirming or you’re going to get another exercise in discipline.”

  No doubt her ass had a bright red handprint on it, but he’d give her another if she didn’t cut it out. A resistant captive wasn’t new to him. Being Sloane, it didn’t surprise him that she wasn’t giving in.

  The snap of his large palm on her ass echoed through the trees.

  She screeched, then her body wilted over his shoulder.

  This time, Winston chuckled. “You know you’re going to pay for that sometime in the future.”

  “Yeah, I know it,” Damon grumbled.

  He heard chuckles erupt, this time from the ladies. He could just imagine, but he was pretty sure Winston just got the single finger salute from Sloane.