by Rachel Grant
But deep down, she wondered if he felt as protective of the little old hairless bipedal hominin as she did.
After the tourism and natural resources ministers left, Lemaire stayed behind to discuss the investigation into Broussard’s disappearance. She wasn’t surprised to learn the inquiry had barely moved forward because the gendarmes weren’t really investigating and Police Nationale had made no move to send anyone to Djibouti. She kept to herself her plans to return to her apartment, knowing from her discussion with Ripley that he wanted no one informed that she’d visit her old neighborhood ahead of time. Instead, she simply begged the minister to keep her in the loop through Ripley.
Giving out her cell phone number would require disabling the GPS tracking function, so she wasn’t permitted to use the phone with the minister or even with her crew. Basically, she could only use the phone to contact US military personnel. Making it a rather useless device as far as she was concerned.
It was late when she finally returned to the base at the end of the extra-long workday. She went straight to the cafeteria and got a milkshake to go. She’d spend the evening in her CLU. Hiding. Because she was a coward.
Some would say she didn’t have balls, but she was inclined to tell those people to fuck off.
Shake in hand, she settled at her desk to work on the survey report. Except for the anomalous village site, the second corridor was proving to be the better route for the railway. It would take a find equal to Linus to prevent bulldozers from going through. Sites would be lost, but in the grand scheme it would be better for Djibouti. China was paying for the line, Ethiopia would pay a fortune annually to use the dedicated railway to the port, and plans for the water pipeline to follow the same route were moving forward.
Add Linus to the other benefits, and Djibouti had gained a national treasure that would bring the same degree of prestige as Lucy brought to Ethiopia, making her contract a huge bargain all around.
If it weren’t for the warlord and new threats from ISIS, she’d be flying high from her work on this project. As it was, she was worried. What would ISIS do when photos of Linus were spread across the web? Would the publicity renew Desta’s interest either in the project or in her?
Desta had been quiet. In one of her debriefings, the captain’s aide had indicated they thought there was infighting within the organization. It was possible the tipster had been identified and eliminated. From what she’d gathered, no one thought the new threat from ISIS was related to Desta. He was aligning with al-Shabaab, not ISIS.
She missed being able to discuss this with Pax. He understood her suspicions and questions about the strange site with recent alluvium. What if Broussard really had found something?
She picked up her cell phone—not to call him; she’d never do that again—but to read the texts he’d sent her as he sat across from her in the cafeteria. To feel a connection to him again. With each moment that passed, she was more and more certain she’d been falling in love with him. If she’d behaved, if she hadn’t called him, hadn’t sent those selfies, would they have had a chance, later, once they were stateside? Or would he have stuck to his rules about no officer’s daughters and no serious relationships as long as he was a Special Forces operator?
She had no reason to think he’d have changed his mind. In which case, that one night was all they ever would’ve had. The thought eased her regrets a small amount. At least this way, she had the memory of what it had been like to be utterly possessed by Sergeant Pax Blanchard.
She opened the text menu on the phone. He was the only person she’d texted since she got the cell, so it should have gone straight to that thread. But there was nothing there. His beautiful notes were gone.
He must’ve deleted them when she was having the tracker reset.
She understood why. She couldn’t be trusted with his number. But still, knowing he’d taken away those precious texts broke her. The precarious grip she’d held on her emotions since Pax walked out of her CLU shattered. This time she didn’t cry because she was angry. She cried out of sheer and utter heartache.
Chapter Twenty-One
For the first time in weeks, there were clouds in the sky. Well, one. But Pax welcomed the sole puff of white, hoping it was the first of many. Even the locals seemed lighter, happier at the sight. As if seeing one cloud reminded them clouds were indeed real, not a fictional invention like dragons and unicorns.
The day’s training with the locals was being conducted at a firing range Pax’s team had set up, complete with an obstacle course they had to maneuver through prior to taking their shot. A grueling test of skill and determination due to the hot sun and heavy packs, but also fun. A contest. The mood was light among the group as they traded barbs and boasts over who had the worst time or the most accurate shot. Pax usually loved this, but everything about the last few days had soured his mood.
Shit. This was why he hadn’t wanted to get involved. It was screwing with his focus. With his job.
He’d never been such a screwup before.
A dust cloud in the distance warned of an approaching vehicle, and like good trainees, the men used their riflescopes to identify the vehicle. “Humvee,” one shouted. They called out everything they could see that might be valuable intel in an ambush situation, but it was clear this was a visit from the brass and not a threat.
Dread settled in his gut. He knew exactly who would be in that vehicle. The general, being Army, had shown an interest in their Special Forces team. He was here for the requisite inspection.
The A-Team captain ordered the trainees to line up at attention. Once assembled, Pax and the rest of the team mustered as well.
“At ease,” General Adler said after receiving the perfunctory salute. He then performed a rote inspection, walking down the line. He paused in front of Pax. “Sergeant, it’s my understanding you requested removal from my daughter’s security team.”
Pax practically choked. Requested? Well, at least his XO had given a kind misstatement. He supposed a dumbass public scuffle with a superior could be interpreted that way.
“Yes, sir.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because I’m needed here, sir.”
“More so than Sergeant Ripley?” The general looked up, seeming to remember the other Special Forces operators and guerrilla trainees who were listening. “Dismissed,” he announced.
Pax didn’t bother to hope the order included him.
“Walk with me, son.”
In Pax’s experience, it was never a good sign when a superior adopted fatherly words. But he nodded. Orders were orders.
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” the general said. “And you’re good at hiding it—better than she is—but I’ve seen the way you look at her too.”
He could deny it, play dumb, or remain silent. He opted for silent.
“Is that why you requested reassignment?”
Pax considered his response carefully. “I’m in Djibouti to train Djiboutians to be soldiers.” He paused, then added, “Sir.”
“You can drop the ‘sirs,’ this is a personal conversation.”
“In my experience, there is no such thing as a personal conversation with a superior officer I’ve only just met, sir.”
“I can see why she likes you. You’re as stubborn as she is. Did you know my daughter has been pretending to be a vegan around me for over a dozen years, just because she knows it irritates me?”
Pax kept his face blank, but deep down he wanted to laugh. “It sounds like you’re equally stubborn, sir, if you haven’t let on that you know.”
“Morgan is an amazing woman.”
“Yes, sir. She is.”
“I’m not certain you’re good enough for my daughter, Sergeant Blanchard.”
“And I know for a fact I’m not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have soldiers to train.” Pax gave the man a crisp salute, then turned back to his team.
Pax had just returned from the shower when his cell phone vibrated. Caller ID indicate
d it was his XO. He braced himself. These days, any communication with the commander set him on edge. Invariably, it had to do with Morgan.
He answered brusquely, glad Cal was still in the shower. They were on the waitlist for single wet CLUs like Morgan had, and he couldn’t wait to have privacy at the end of a long day.
“This is an unofficial call,” his XO said without preamble. “General Adler just left my office. He requested you be transferred to Fort Belvoir, Virginia. His post.”
“SOCOM doesn’t have a command at Fort Belvoir. He’s trying to yank me from Special Forces?” Sonofafuckingbitch.
“He requested a TDY for six months to a year. Nothing permanent. He said he thinks you have potential.”
Yeah. Potential son-in-law. He gripped the phone in a tight fist. “Am I being sent to Virginia?”
“No. I told him you’re needed right where you are. When this deployment is over, you’re returning to Fort Campbell with the rest of the team. But Pax, if he keeps pushing, there’s only so much I can do.”
“Got it. Thanks for the heads-up.” He hit the End button and stared at the phone. His entire body was tight with anger. He didn’t think Morgan had put her father up to this, but she sure as hell would put a stop to it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Morgan jolted at the angry pounding on the door. Her gaze dropped to her arm. No. She hadn’t accidently triggered the tracker again, so the urgent knock couldn’t be about that. She frowned. The entire container shook with the force of the pounding. The shade was pulled down on the window inset in the door. “Who is it?” she asked.
“It’s Pax. Open up. Now.”
Given the anger in his tone, she found it irritating that she felt a giddy flutter. She was pathetic.
She unlocked the door and pulled it open. He stood there, his beautiful, angry, massive self filling the doorway and blocking the low evening sun. “What a pleasant surprise to see you, Pax,” she said with sugar-laden sarcasm. “How may I help you this lovely evening?”
His eyes flattened. “May I come in?”
“No.”
His jaw clenched. “We need to talk.”
She cocked her head. “Why, do you have a burning sensation when you pee? You didn’t get that from me.” She started to close the door. He thrust an arm in the gap and pushed the door wide.
“I’m not in the mood for games.”
She flinched at the reference to his parting words from the other night.
He stepped forward, menacingly, and like the fool she was, she retreated. Inside, he slammed the door shut, then advanced on her. “Did you ask your father to transfer me to Fort Belvoir?” His voice shook with rage.
She took another step back as shock filtered through her. “No! Sonofabitch. Pax! You have to believe me. I would never do that. How did he even—” She stumbled, both verbally and physically, unable to speak and retreat at the same time.
The first wave of his anger diminished, but hot behind it was another set rippling toward shore. “Fine. You didn’t put him up to it. But you will call him off. Because, you see, he’s a fucking general, and I’m fucking enlisted, so I can’t tell him to back off.”
“Of course, I’ll talk to him! Are you—that is, have you—been transferred?”
“Not yet. But if he pushes, he’ll get his way. It’s what generals do.” He glared at her. “This is why I don’t get involved with officer’s daughters.”
Dear old Dad had screwed her over good this time. If there had even been the slightest chance of them getting together someday, her dad had just taken that faint hope, doused it in gasoline, then thrown a grenade on it.
“I’m sorry, Pax. I’m just as horrified as you are.”
“Are you really? Because you aren’t the one who’s being threatened with having everything important to you yanked away because an old fool wants to indulge his baby girl. I already went through this shit with my ex-wife.”
“Your ex-wife was a military brat? Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before?”
“It has no bearing on you and me.”
“Bullshit! It’s framed the way you’ve viewed me from the start.” Dammit. Not only was he holding her responsible for her father’s action, it was also possible she’d been unknowingly shouldering the burden of his failed marriage.
She clenched her jaw as she stepped closer to him, no longer cowering or feeling guilty over something she’d had no part in. “You know what? Fuck you, Pax. I didn’t ask my dad to give you to me for my birthday. I wasn’t even aware he thinks there’s something between us. But screw you if you think I’m the type of woman who would use him to try to get you.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “I don’t know what kind of relationship your ex had with her father, but in case you haven’t noticed, my father and I aren’t exactly close. Certainly not a relationship where I could—or would—convince him to meddle in your career so we could be together. And I’m hardly so desperate to land a man that I need my daddy to pull strings. I do just fine on my own. I could replace you in a heartbeat if that’s what I wanted.”
His eyes flared with heat, and he took a step toward her, angling her into what she now thought of as his favorite section of wall. “You think you can replace me?” His voice was low, menacing. “Do you think another man could make you come apart like I did? Do you really believe another man would satisfy you now?” His voice dropped lower and lower until the last words were no more than a sexy rasp.
Her back was to the wall, and he leaned over her. Intimidating. Dominating. And under the cloak of anger, she saw the true fuel behind his words. Desperation.
He feared she could replace him.
She ran a hand over his crotch. He hardened instantly. “No, Pax,” she whispered, voicing her own desperation. “I don’t want this”—she stroked his erection—“from anyone but you.”
He groaned as she slipped her hand into his pants and wrapped her fingers around his thick cock.
“Suck me off,” he said, opening his fly. “Now. Take me in your mouth.”
She dropped to her knees and freed him from his boxer briefs and took him just like he’d demanded. She knew damn well this was nothing more than a convenient blowjob for him, and she didn’t care. Didn’t care that he hadn’t kissed her. Didn’t care that he wouldn’t return the favor. Right now, she was doing exactly what she wanted to do, storing away another memory to savor later.
He braced his hands on the wall above her as he thrust into her mouth. He muttered as she sucked. Only some words were intelligible between curses and groans. “…fuck, babe…yes… Mine, babe… Mine.”
She sucked and stroked and loved every moment. His orgasm built, and she toyed with the idea of taking off her shirt so he could come on her chest. Not something she’d ever been into before, but the possessiveness she felt toward him, and the need she had to be possessed by him, made it a powerful urge. But the logistics of getting the shirt off when he was so close defeated her, and he pulsed into her mouth with a groan, and she swallowed and kept sucking.
His hips stopped thrusting, and he slipped gently from her mouth, then grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She braced herself for anger, for regret that he’d given in to impulse again. But he surprised her by kissing her tenderly, whispering the word “Mine,” repeatedly as he did so.
She kissed him back, and when his mouth moved to her neck, she said, “I’m yours, Pax. I don’t want anyone but you.”
“This can’t go anywhere. This can’t happen again.” His voice was husky, pained.
“I know. But still, I’m yours.”
“You won’t hook up with anyone else while you’re here?”
“No. How could I when you’re all I want?” She smiled sadly, then pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him deeply. When the kiss ended she said, “You’re mine, Pax. My caveman. Even if you never touch me again. You’re still mine.”
A knock sounded on the door. Oh hell, not again! She glanced at
her arm, but they hadn’t touched the tracker.
Pax tucked himself in and zipped his fly. She glanced around for other signs of what they’d been up to, but doubted her hair was even mussed.
Another knock. “Morgan? It’s your father.”
Pax’s eyes hardened, and dread shot through her. He must have caught her reaction, because he shook his head and whispered directly into her ear, “I’m not mad at you. At him.”
She’d been mad at her father her whole life. She could relate to that. They could handle this one of two ways. “Do you want to hide, or face him?”
He pressed his lips to her neck, then said, “Face him.”
Pax stood stiffly in the background as Morgan invited her father in. The general’s eyes flashed in surprise at seeing him. This should be Pax’s worst nightmare come true, yet he felt strangely free. He’d been in this situation before, except on that occasion, the daughter in question had requested her father’s intervention. It wasn’t his ex-wife’s father who’d triggered the end of his marriage. It was his wife herself.
General Adler glanced from Pax to Morgan. “I was hoping you’d have dinner with me at Barely North. Of course, Sergeant Blanchard, you’re welcome to join us.”
“No, thank you, sir.”
The general nodded. He’d clearly expected that answer. “Morgan?”
“Sure. Let me just get my shoes on.” She faced Pax. “Thank you for your input,” she said smoothly.
He found it hard not to snicker at her choice of words. He should be thanking her. “You’re welcome. I want to know when you hear from Police Nationale about Broussard.”
“I’ll text you.” She fixed him with a pointed look. “But I need your number.”
She’d noticed the deleted messages. He probably shouldn’t have done that. He nodded. “I’ll send it.”
Morgan sat on the cot to slip on her shoes, and Pax had his opportunity to leave. And yet, he took one look at the beautiful, composed woman who’d just rocked his world, and he couldn’t simply walk away.
