by Zara Chase
Clandestine Affairs 6
Baby, Come Back
Raoul and Zeke have spent three years mourning the loss of Cantara, the woman they both loved, and whose death will always be on their consciences. When they receive a phone call from their old military commander suggesting that Cantara might still be alive, albeit with memory loss, they dare to hope for a second shot at happiness.
But questions remain. If it is Cantara, who betrayed their mission into Palestinian occupied territory, making it possible for all three of them to be captured in the first place, and for Raoul and Zeke to be subjected to systematic torture?
The guys are at Andrews Air Force base to meet the plane bringing the mystery woman home to the States. Memories of the hot sex they enjoyed with Cantara flood their brains, as does renewed thirst for revenge against the traitor who put them all in danger’s path.
Is it Cantara and, even if it is, will she ever regain her memory and recognize the guys…
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Romantic Suspense
Length: 55,239 words
BABY, COME BACK
Clandestine Affairs 6
Zara Chase
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
BABY, COME BACK
Copyright © 2014 by Zara Chase
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-863-8
First E-book Publication: June 2014
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
About the Author
BABY, COME BACK
Clandestine Affairs 6
ZARA CHASE
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
“It’s goddamned suicidal.”
“Remember who you’re talking to, soldier.”
“It’s goddamned suicidal…sir.”
“It sucks,” Zeke said, his voice an angry hiss. “Sir.”
Colonel Pool glowered at Raoul and Zeke. Raoul and Zeke glowered right back, not giving a damn if their new commanding officer was pissed at their insubordination. Get used to it, asshole. As tough, experienced Special Forces Green Berets−the elite of the elite−normal military discipline didn’t apply to them. All members of the squad were encouraged to speak their minds about the dangerous missions they undertook in even more dangerous parts of the world. Now some highfaluting command task force comprising US and Israeli top brass had been put together, and they’d had Colonel Pool foisted upon them. Geez!
“Hamas extremists are out to kill the peace negotiations we’ve worked so hard to set up,” Lieutenant Colonel Hassan of the Israeli Defense Force said in a calm tone that only fractionally defused the tension. Hassan enjoyed Raoul’s respect. Pool, who was more a politician than a solider and put his own interests before those of the men under his command, did not. “We’ve been trying to infiltrate their ranks for months, with zero success.”
“You don’t need to tell us that.” Zeke growled.
Raoul and Zeke, with bearded faces and skin tanned by long hours of exposure to the fierce Palestinian sun as they tried to do the infiltrating, looked more Palestinian than American. Right now, in their Israeli headquarters, they had forgone the traditional Palestinian clothing that had become second nature to them in favor of jeans and T-shirts. Even so, Raoul was aware their communal stance projected power, strength, and an ever-present threat of danger, because that was the only way they knew. Pool looked wary of them, which showed he wasn’t completely clueless. Raoul could happily detach his head from his shoulders using just his bare hands. The jackass didn’t give a fuck about the lives he was putting in danger in his reckless quest for personal glory.
Raoul’s wife’s life, to be precise.
They knew when they shipped out to Israel that Cantara would be talking to some lethal individuals in an effort to bring all the Palestinian splinter groups to the negotiating table. That was the whole point of being here. But it had slipped her mind to mention that she’d agreed to act as go-between with this particular faction.
“It smells like a trap,” Raoul said adamantly. “And my wife ain’t gonna be the bait.”
“They’ve asked specifically for her,” Pool snapped. “Won’t speak to anyone else.”
Raoul ground his jaw, furious at Cantara for agreeing to the mission without speaking to him and Zeke first. Knowing why she hadn’t. If it was a genuine
olive branch on the part of the extremists, it was the opportunity they had almost given up on. Cantara wasn’t stupid—far from it—and knew what this could mean for her troubled country. As always, she wasn’t thinking about her own welfare. But Raoul and Zeke sure as hell were. Someone had to.
“And you don’t find that ever so slightly suspicious?” Raoul asked, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.
“Your wife is a well-respected moderate.”
“My wife is a woman,” Raoul snapped back. “Since when have those misanthropes ever talked politics with a woman?”
“You think they know she’s married to you?” Hassan asked.
“I sure as hell hope not. We’ve kept that knowledge under wraps. She doesn’t wear a ring or use my name, but the militants have as many spies dotted about as we do.” Raoul shrugged. “I wouldn’t bet against them knowing.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Zeke said, his voice a threatening growl that even Raoul found intimidating. “She ain’t going.”
“She’s already agreed,” Pool yelled, slapping his fist against his desk for emphasis. “And you are out of line, Orion.”
Raoul curled his upper lip derisively. Like yelling and table-slapping was going to intimidate men of their caliber. “And I can get her to change her mind, just like that,” he said, walking up to the colonel, crowding his personal space and snapping his fingers beneath his nose. The colonel actually flinched and took a step backward.
“We’ll make sure she has good backup,” Hassan said. “But we really can’t pass up on this chance, no matter the risks. Besides, your wife can handle herself.”
“If she goes, then Zeke and I are her rearguard,” Raoul said grudgingly, not trusting anyone else with his—their—wife’s back.
“That’s a negative, sergeant,” Pool said dismissively. “You’re personally involved, which will affect your judgment.”
“Damned straight it will.” Raoul continued to crowd Pool. “I don’t know how else to make you understand this…sir, but unless we’re there to watch her back then Cantara doesn’t go. End of story.”
“You’re making a big mistake, Washington, issuing me with threats.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but we don’t give a fuck about your ego, Colonel,” Zeke said, staring him down. “Our concern is for Cantara, and those are the only terms under which we’ll let her go. Take ’em or leave ’em.”
Hassan and Pool shared a glance. “Okay,” Pool said reluctantly. “You two can be part of her backup team.”
“Nope, we are her backup team,” Raoul said. “We’re the best you have, and you know it. The militants will be on the lookout for a tail, but we stand an outside chance of blending in. Any more than two of us, and the whole operation will be blown, to say nothing of Cantara’s chances of surviving.”
Pool glowered at Raoul and Zeke, clearly more concerned about saving face than saving Cantara. It was Hassan who broke the brittle silence.
“Agreed,” he said curtly.
“That’s if Cantara doesn’t have a change of heart,” Raoul cautioned.
“Now see here, Washington, don’t you go interfering.” Pool puffed out his chest, but still looked puny against Raoul and Zeke’s rock-hard physiques. “Your wife has agreed to go, and you need to learn to follow orders.”
“Unlike Cantara, who is not a part of this man’s army, which leave her free to change her mind any time she feels like it,” Zeke reminded the colonel, heading for the door without waiting to be dismissed.
“Fuck,” Raoul said as they strode away from the commander’s office. “You shoulda let me throttle the asshole, Zeke.”
“Nah, the army takes a dim view of that sort of thing. I think it’s called insubordination. Ask Pool, he’s big on all that shit. He’s bound to know.”
“If they don’t want us offing people who deserve to be offed because they’re too stupid to live, then they shouldn’t have trained us to be killing machines.” Raoul threw back his head and groaned. “When I get my hands on Cantara I’m going to…”
“Yeah, buddy, me too.” Zeke flashed a brief smile. “Where do you suppose she’s hiding?”
“Training ground is my guess.” Both men turned in that direction. “It’s where she always goes prior to a mission.”
“Or when she’s done something to get us mad at her.”
“Yeah, then too.”
Their collective bad mood gave a little as they caught sight of a very familiar figure, taller than average for a woman, dark hair pulled up on top of her head, green eyes sparkling with determination, her body bathed in a thin film of perspiration. She was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a guy twice her weight and strength—and landed him on his ass. She laughed at his surprised expression and offered him a hand up.
“Gotta hand it to our babe,” Zeke said, nodding in admiration. “She knows how to kick ass.”
“She’ll fucking need to if we can’t talk sense into her.”
The fight recommenced beneath the eagle eye of the army instructor. This time the guy didn’t make the mistake of underestimating Cantara and his superior strength eventually won the day. Laughing, Cantara elevated herself gracefully from the canvas and acknowledged her opponent. She saw the guys watching her and hesitated, just fractionally, before waving and walking over to them. She had a way of moving that hypnotized Raoul, but for once the provocative sway of her slender hips didn’t put paid to his bad mood. She knew she was in trouble and he wasn’t about to cut her any slack just because his cock got hard whenever he was anywhere near her.
“Hey, guys,” she said, a little too casually. “Come to take me to dinner?”
Dinner was not what Raoul had on his mind, but he knew better than to raise that subject of the suicidal mission she had so blithely accepted while they were in public. This was a high-security facility, but still. He slung an arm over Cantara’s shoulders and steered her in the direction of their living quarters.
“We need to talk,” he said curtly.
Cantara’s gaze slid pleadingly in Zeke’s direction.
“How come you guys get to be demonstrative in public and I get left out?” he joked, coming to Cantara’s rescue. Raoul couldn’t blame Zeke for bailing her out, albeit temporarily. When she turned the full artillery of her enormous eyes upon anyone—all vulnerability and smokin’ hot woman—the recipient became putty in her hands. Even so, Raoul dropped his arm, as though it had been intended as nothing more than a friendly gesture. It didn’t do to flaunt the relationship they were trying hard to keep a lid on.
“Aw, don’t feel bad, baby,” she cooed. “Once we get inside you shall have my undivided attention.”
See, Raoul,” Zeke said smugly. “She likes me better than she likes you.”
Raoul flipped him off.
“Not better,” Cantara replied, flashing a tentative smile Raoul’s way, probably conscious of the anger radiating from him since he sure as hell wasn’t trying to hide it. “Just differently, is all. You Native Americans can be very creative with your hands…” She giggled. “Well, with all sorts of your body parts. I like that about you.”
“Is that right?” Zeke sent her a flirtatious smile. “So what do you have planned for me when we get inside?”
“How about one of my special hum jobs? I know you like those.”
Zeke placed both hands over his heart and sighed. “Geez, darlin’, just the thought of it is enough to make me come in my pants.”
“Oh, don’t do that. I’d much rather you came in my mouth.”
Raoul and Zeke shared a look over Cantara’s head. How the fuck was he supposed to remain mad at her when she talked that way? More to the point, how could he possibly let her go on this mission when there were no rules of engagement within their control? If they lost Cantara, it would be like cutting of their own right arms. She’d cleverly brought the conversation around to sex, knowing it would buy her some time. It would, of course. Raoul was already as hard as Zeke claimed
to be, just thinking about it. They’d have their fun with the woman they would both give their lives for without hesitation, if that’s what it took to keep her safe. And then they’d talk some sense into her.
Somehow.
Cantara was a beautiful Palestinian whom Raoul and Zeke had met a year ago when she shipped into their home base of Fort Campbell, Kentucky, under strict security. They had been pissed when their colonel and a spook from the CIA assigned them as her bodyguards. A baby-sitting mission? Seriously? They were way better than that. But their attitude slowly changed when Cantara passed every test of physical durability they threw at her, never once complaining. She earned their respect, and as they got to know her better it became apparent that Cantara was as complex as she was beautiful. As determined as she was damaged.
Intelligent, multi-lingual, and fiercely patriotic, she embraced their lifestyle with enthusiasm, claiming it was the element that had been missing from her existence up until that point. She had always known there was something. Raoul had married her in a Las Vegas wedding chapel six months after they met. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had teamed up with Zeke. Both men loved Cantara, knew they had found their soul mate, and needed to prove it by making the ultimate commitment to her.
They had been assigned a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment with its own sitting room in a secure part of the base here in Israel. It had two external doors and Cantara always made sure she went in by a separate one to the guys, keeping up the pretense that they were colleagues and nothing more. You never knew who was watching. They met on the other side of those doors, which opened into the communal sitting room, and where only one bedroom ever got used.
