by Cindi Myers
Chapter Fifteen
The vehicle skidded to a halt, just out of range of Graham’s pistol. “Captain, don’t shoot!” the passenger called. “It’s us—we’ve come to save you.”
“Oh my gosh!” Emma moved out from behind him. “It’s Lieutenant Dance and Sergeant Cruz.”
Graham holstered his weapon and followed Emma toward the Jeep. The driver—Marco Cruz—started the vehicle and met them before they’d walked more than a dozen feet. “We’re sure glad to see you two,” Michael said.
“This is one of Prentice’s Jeeps, isn’t it?” Emma asked. “And those uniforms—how—?”
“Get in and we’ll explain later,” Marco said. “We have to get out of here.”
Emma and Graham piled in the backseat. Graham didn’t need to know how these two had found him or why they were masquerading as Prentice’s guards. Not now. He sagged against the seat and closed his eyes, aware for the first time in hours of a dragging fatigue.
“Are you okay, Captain?” Michael shoved a bottle of water into Graham’s hand and nodded to the sling. “Should I radio ahead for an ambulance?”
“Yes,” Emma said. She twisted the cap off her own water bottle and drank greedily.
“I’m not going to the hospital,” Graham said.
“He’s got broken ribs and a separated shoulder,” she said. “He needs to be checked out.”
“What about you, ma’am?” Michael asked, clearly trying not to stare at her ruined dress and wild hair.
“My feet are one big blister and I’m exhausted, but it’s nothing a long bath and a good night’s sleep won’t help. The captain is the one I’m worried about.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said.
She patted his arm. “Humor me.”
Now that the danger was past, she was back to being her bossy, independent self. But he couldn’t say he didn’t like it.
“How did you find us?” she asked Michael.
“We’ve been driving around, looking for you,” Michael said. “We figured once you left the mine, you’d head for the road, so we’ve been searching a grid. We got lucky.”
“The luck is all ours,” Emma said. “I don’t know how much longer we’d have lasted out there by ourselves.”
“Marco, what happened after you left me at the ventilation shaft?” Graham asked.
“We got into a firefight with a couple of guards who were stationed at the mine entrance. We didn’t like leaving you there, but they didn’t give us much of a choice. Randall took a bullet in the arm, but he’ll be okay.”
“Is Lotte okay?” Graham asked.
“Yes, sir. We put together a team to try to go in again and rescue you, but by the time we got there, the place was deserted—no guards and the mine was empty. That’s when we set out searching for you.”
“But the Jeep and the uniforms,” Emma asked. “Are they Prentice’s?”
“Nah,” Michael said. “We borrowed the Jeep from the sheriff’s department, and the uniforms are from the local army surplus story. We figured if we were going to be driving around near Prentice’s place it would be a good idea to blend in.”
“Did you see anyone else while you were searching for us?” Graham asked.
“Not a soul,” Michael said. “The mine looked as if no one had been near it in decades.”
“Too clean.” Marco spoke for the first time. “They practically sanitized the place.”
“Did you see the drone?” Emma asked.
“Is that what that was?” Michael asked. “We saw something, but it was so far away, we weren’t sure.”
“Was it armed?” Marco asked.
“No,” Graham said. “He doesn’t have the missile yet. Or at least, he doesn’t have it with the drone. It’s stashed in a side tunnel of the mine where we were trapped.” He leaned forward in the seat. “Who else is out looking for us?”
“Carmen and Simon have a Jeep like this one,” Marco said.
“We need to call and let them know we’ve found you okay.” Michael picked up the radio.
“Give me that,” Graham said. “I want them to watch the mine. As soon as I can get patched up and Emma’s safe, we need to go back and stake out the location. They won’t want to leave the missile there, now that they know we must have spotted it.”
“I’ll go with you,” Emma said.
“No. It’s too dangerous.” And he couldn’t focus on his job while he was worried about her.
“You’ve heard of embedded reporters? I’m your embedded reporter.” She glared at him, chin up, arms crossed, eyes blazing. “I haven’t been through all of this to miss out on the story of my career. I promise I’ll stay out of your way, but I want to be there.”
Though Michael and Marco faced forward, Graham knew they were taking in every word of this conversation. He didn’t want to fight with Emma, not when they’d suffered so much already. And she’d proved she could keep her head in tense situations. “You can come,” he said. “But you have to stay in a vehicle until I say it’s safe for you to come out.”
“I love it when you try to give me orders.” Her tone was teasing and sexy, sending a shiver of desire through him. She was the most aggravating, challenging, confusing woman he’d ever met.
And he didn’t know how he’d made it this far without her.
* * *
WHILE THE PARAMEDICS tended to Graham, Michael found camo pants and a shirt to replace Emma’s ruined dress. Marco contributed a pair of boots; he and Emma wore the same size. With blisters bandaged and fresh socks she felt, if not 100 percent, at least ready to face whatever came next. When she joined the others in the conference room, the sun was just showing over the horizon. Graham had changed into a new uniform, and a fresh black sling supported his arm. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m not up to running a marathon, but that wasn’t on my to-do list for today, anyway. What about you?”
“I’m fine.” He turned to the others. “Carmen and Simon report no one’s returned to the mine yet, but we know they will. They can’t leave the missile there now that we know about it.”
“They’ll probably wait until it’s dark again,” Michael said. “Moving it in the daylight would be risky.”
“Maybe.” Graham walked to the whiteboard on the wall behind him and began sketching. Emma recognized a map of the mine interior. “We want to be in place, hidden and waiting for them,” he said.
“You’ll go back into the mine?” Emma’s stomach rolled at the thought.
“The mine is the best place to hide, to catch them with the missile,” he said. “I don’t want anyone later claiming they didn’t know it was there.”
She pressed her lips together, wanting to object, but knowing she had no right. She didn’t want Graham telling her how to do her job, so she wouldn’t tell him how to do his. She crossed her arms and glared at him, hoping he’d read the message in her eyes, even if she couldn’t say the words. A man with busted ribs and the use of only one arm had no business going down into a hole in the ground to face people who wanted to kill him.
“Marco, I want you and Michael stationed in the mine, in the chamber with the missile.” He indicated the niche along the corridor that connected the air shaft and the mine entrance. “I’ll put Carmen and Simon near the entrance.”
“Where will you be?” Michael asked.
“I’ll be parked here, behind these rocks.” He sketched in a pile of boulders, to one side of the entrance. “Emma, you’ll be with me.”
She let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. As long as she was with Graham, they’d both be all right. A silly superstition maybe, but one she believed.
* * *
EMMA WAS ABLE to catch a few hours’ sleep on a cot in a
back room at Ranger headquarters. Graham refused to go home to sleep, so she stayed also, though she tossed and turned, worried about the night ahead. Going anywhere near Richard Prentice again frightened her, but they couldn’t let him get away with whatever he had planned for that missile.
At seven, the team began gathering at headquarters. Graham briefed them again on their assignments for the evening. Rather than watch Graham as he spoke, Emma studied the faces of the team. They trusted the captain with their lives; their confidence in him showed in their attention to his words and in the determined expressions on their faces. Emma knew she could trust him, too.
Everything happened very quickly after that. They all put on body armor; after some scrambling, they unearthed a Kevlar vest that left Emma’s breasts only somewhat squashed. A heavy helmet with visor was guaranteed to give her a headache, but she didn’t dare complain. When Marco began handing out weapons she started to ask for one, then stopped herself. She probably couldn’t hit the side of a barn, even if she could figure out how to fire a gun. Instead, she asked for the one weapon with which she was truly proficient. “I need a notebook and a pen,” she said.
“What for?” Graham asked.
“I need to record everything that happens.”
“So you can write about it for the paper?” He didn’t look pleased with the idea.
“Yes. But think how handy an eyewitness report by a civilian might be in court later.”
“Michael, there’s a notebook and pens in my desk.”
Thus armed, she followed the others out to the Cruisers. Graham said nothing as he drove along the paved park road, headed for Curecanti Recreation Area. Emma followed his lead and kept silent, and tried not to think of the danger that lay ahead. Instead, she focused on Richard Prentice. Was he really behind all of this? The idea of him with a gun, killing anyone, was so out of place with his businessman’s image.
Then again, maybe he never actually pulled a trigger. Instead, he paid others to do his dirty work.
After half an hour, they reached the turnoff from the paved highway onto the dirt track that led across Curecanti Recreation area to the mine. They sped across the rough ground, the ride jarring and even painful, but Emma held on and said nothing. She wouldn’t give Graham a reason to regret including her. Near the mine, the team split up. Michael and Marco headed across the desert, while Graham maneuvered the Cruiser behind the boulders, until it was hidden from anyone who approached the mine entrance.
He unbuckled his seat belt and Emma did the same, then they sat in silence, listening to the ping of the cooling engine. In spite of the cooling night air within seconds she was sweating under the body armor. The helmet hurt her head and her feet ached. Graham had to be feeling even worse, but he didn’t show it.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“We wait.”
The silence closed around them once more. She shifted in her seat and glanced at Graham, his face impassive, gaze focused on the horizon. Did he even remember she was here? They had so much they could talk about. Where was their relationship going? Could they really make it together? Did he still see her as the enemy reporter, or had his feelings changed?
But she already knew he wasn’t a talker. Under duress, he’d admitted he loved her. That would have to be enough.
The radio crackled. “We’re in place in the tunnel,” Cruz said. “But there’s a problem.”
Graham keyed the mic. “Go ahead.”
“We’re in the passage between the entrance and the air shaft. It’s like you described it, a storage area, with boxes and gas cans. But no missile.”
“Could you repeat that? I didn’t copy.”
“The missile’s gone, Captain. They got here ahead of us.”
Chapter Sixteen
Graham might have stayed at the mine all night while evidence techs combed over the tunnels and the surrounding areas, searching for any clue to the missile’s whereabouts. But Emma persuaded him to take her home. He might not admit that he himself was worn-out, but he’d given in for her sake.
Janey greeted them at the door to his house, her indignant yowls letting Emma know she was not pleased by her empty supper dish. “Yes, you’re so neglected,” Emma cooed, cuddling the cat to her. She smiled at Graham over the top of the cat’s head. “As soon as she’s fed, all I want is a hot shower, a glass of wine and a bowl of soup,” she said.
“You get your shower first,” he said. “I’ll open the wine.”
“I like the way you think.” As soon as Janey was purring over a bowl of Seafood Deluxe, she headed for the bedroom, stripping on her way to the shower, where she stood under the spray with her eyes closed, letting the hot water pummel away all the pain and fear of the past thirty-six hours.
She emerged from the bathroom a half hour later, hair freshly washed and blow-dried, her body shaved and moisturized and smelling of vanilla and lavender. Graham sat on the edge of the bed, a glass of wine in his hand, which he offered to her.
“You’re a saint,” she said as she took the wine. “My favorite person, next to whoever invented indoor plumbing. There’s nothing like a hot shower for making me feel human again.” She sat on the bed next to him and sipped the cold, crisp wine.
“I’ll have to settle for a bath,” he said. “I’m supposed to keep these bandages dry.”
She caressed his uninjured shoulder. “Want some help?”
“I don’t want you to think you have to play nurse.”
“Who said anything about nurse?” She slid one hand beneath the open collar of his uniform shirt. “I was thinking I’d offer to scrub your back.”
“I’m probably too tired for anything else.”
“So am I. This will just be a nice, relaxing bath.”
He slid his fingers into her hair at the back of her head. “I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy the company.”
The master bathroom featured an oversize soaking tub in addition to the steam shower. Emma started the water, then helped Graham out of the sling and his clothes. Bandages swathed his upper torso and wrapped one shoulder. “Does it hurt much?” she asked, kissing the white cotton over his heart.
“I’ll live.”
She shut off the water when it reached his waist, then climbed in after him and picked up a washcloth and a bar of soap. “No fair,” he said. “I didn’t get to wash you,” he said.
“Maybe next time. Now close your eyes and relax.”
He submitted to her ministrations, but he kept his eyes open, his gaze as intense as a touch, caressing her bare breasts and shoulders. She washed his shoulders, arms and upper back, then transferred her attention to his stomach and hips, deliberately skipping over his very obvious erection. She set aside the washcloth in favor of her hands, caressing and stroking every inch of him, enjoying the sensuality of warm water and silken soap, and the slow burn of building desire.
He grabbed her wrist and guided her hand to his arousal. “You’re forgetting something,” he said.
She stroked him, watching the passion flare in his eyes. “I thought you were tired,” she teased.
“I am. Exhausted. And you still turn me on.” He pulled her close, pressing her breasts against his chest, and kissed her, his mouth urgent, tongue probing. His eagerness banished her own weariness, as desire surged within her, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Water sloshed, and the soap disappeared somewhere beneath them.
“Let’s get out of this tub,” she said.
He stood, pulling her to her feet with him. She grabbed a towel for herself and one for him, and followed him into the bedroom. Fifteen minutes before, she’d been certain she’d fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but the reality of the man beside her trumped any dreams sleep might conjure.
They made love gently, avoiding bruises and bandages, the necessi
ty to take things more slowly adding sweetness and tension. Graham lay back against the pillows and she straddled him, his free hand caressing the small of her back while he kissed and suckled first one breast, then another. She arched against the base of his shaft, but he pushed her away, just enough to insert one finger into her, then another, while his thumb traced lazy circles around her arousal.
She moaned, gasping for breath on the edge of control. “Do you like that?” he asked, increasing the pressure of his thumb.
“Y-yes.”
Then she lost the ability to talk as he increased his tempo, his mouth returning to pull hard on one breast, and then the other. She screamed his name as her climax ripped through her, then before she had time to recover he coaxed her to raise up enough that he could slide into her, filling her and starting the spiral of desire over again.
She couldn’t have said how long she rode that wave of passion, crashing to shore only to climb again. When Graham finally cried out his release along with her she was utterly spent and utterly filled. She slid alongside him and laid her head on his uninjured shoulder, his arm tight around her.
“You’re supposed to be hurt,” she said. “I’ve been so worried. I’m not used to having to think about anybody but myself and Janey, and suddenly I can’t stop thinking about you. That almost feels more dangerous to me than gunfire. Do you think I’m crazy?”
When he didn’t answer, she lifted her head and studied his slack face, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He breathed slowly and evenly, lost to the world—and to her—in sleep. She kissed his cheek and lay down once more. Maybe she was crazy. Or maybe—for the first time in a long time, or maybe forever—she was in love.
* * *
THIS IS WHAT is must feel like to have been hit by a truck, Graham thought. He lay in bed with his eyes closed, taking inventory of his aches and pains. Head, ribs, shoulder, legs—yep, pretty much everything hurt.
Then the scent of lavender and vanilla drifted to him, and he smiled in spite of the pain. Not everything had been bad. The end of the day had been pretty spectacular, in fact. Emma had moved him yesterday, both with her strength and bravery, and with her tenderness and passion. He’d never met another woman like her, and when he thought he’d lost her he’d felt bereft in a way he never thought possible. He wanted to show her, every moment he could, how much she’d come to mean to him.
