by KaLyn Cooper
Maybe that’s where she should have gone rather than hide in the United States. She hated that her parents had been hurt because of her. Or maybe she should just go hunting here in the USA. She had a talent for finding the radicals. The perfect shot from half a mile away would give her plenty of opportunity to escape. But over there she had more assistance. In Syria, she was a hero. In the USA, she’d be a murderer.
No. She would allow Homeland Security to find the terrorist cells and eliminate them. Then her family could live in peace, and she would return to the Middle East.
Sitting on the floor, she flipped through drawer after drawer of DVDs. Nothing seemed to appeal. The television was on a national headline news program currently discussing weather.
“Want something to drink?” Isaac headed toward the kitchen in soft, knee-length shorts and a faded Go Navy T-shirt that hugged every one of his delectable muscles. Damn, he was cut.
“No, thank you. I’m good.” From the corner of her eye, Hannah watched the muscles in his arm roll and flex as he grabbed a Gatorade. Waking up surrounded by those arms would make any woman feel safe. She’d been on the run for weeks. Living on the edge drained a person. To let it all go, just for one night, allow someone else to take care of her, would be a dream come true.
Hannah glanced up as Isaac set his gun down on the table next to the couch. Yes, he might be just what she needed. He looked completely capable of fulfilling her needs. If his earlier physical reaction to her was any indication, she might even get an orgasm out of it. That would make it even nicer.
She couldn’t remember when she’d last experienced the big O. Aziz had shown up in their forward camp only a few times in her final months in Syria. Their sex had been wham, bam, thank you ma’am. He’d been more interested in their pillow talk afterward than seeing to her needs. And she’d let him get away with it rather than demanding her own release.
She had been such an idiot to believe his lies. Now he was dead, and she was on the run from his vengeful family.
“Looks like that snowstorm is finally moving in,” Isaac noted as he settled onto the couch and kicked sock-covered feet onto the coffee table. “I’m glad we got in a whole day of skiing, though.”
“Me, too.” She had thoroughly enjoyed the day. “If it snows, are we still going—”
“…al Hasakah—”
Hannah’s head popped up at the news announcer’s mention of the small town in Northwestern Syria close to ISIS claimed territories.
“…twenty-five girls ages eight to fourteen were kidnapped and the four nuns running the remote school were killed.”
Hannah leaped to her feet and stared at the television in horror as pictures of smiling children in makeshift classrooms typical of that area flashed across the screen. Her heart started to beat faster and faster as she sipped shallow breaths. She had been to that school. She’d spoken with the nuns.
“No. No. No!” She cried out. “The YPJ vowed to protect them. Where the hell was my all-female battalion? How could they have let this happen?” This was her fault. She had made promises to the nuns and wasn’t there to keep the girls safe.
Video scanned the charred remains of the once thriving school. The camera zoomed in on a half-disintegrated book as the newscaster announced that ISIS had taken credit for the devastation.
“We brought them those books when the physicians came to immunize the girls.” She and twenty-five of her best warrior women had escorted a group from Doctors Without Borders to several isolated schools. They had also transported dozens of books, colorful modern clothing, and feminine necessities for the girls coming-of-age.
Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, the leader of ISIS and Aziz’s brother, spoke in Arabic about how his soldiers had freed the easily-influenced young women from the clutches of a modern world and he would personally oversee their proper Islamic education. The English translation printed on the bottom of the screen didn’t get it quite correct. His word choice was considerably more exploitative.
“Yeah, right.” Hannah sneered. “Their virginity was your gift to the soldiers who will make them slaves. Their so-called proper education will be in ways to make a man come in every orifice of their tiny bodies. If they fight back, they will be beaten to within an inch of their life.” Hannah gasped, trying to force air into her lungs. That was when she realized she was crying. She had seen the brutality inflicted by his men. She had personally freed more than three dozen of the helpless girls militants had turned into sex slaves.
She had to go there.
Now.
Hannah spun toward her bedroom and sprinted down the hall.
“Are you all right?” Isaac called as he followed her.
Hannah grabbed her travel bag from under the bed and started stuffing clothes into it. If she were moving back to Syria, she would need more than the mere essentials she carried in her grab-n-go bag.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
“Back to Syria.” She opened her underwear drawer and scooped everything into her arms, carrying the load to the duffel on her bed. She dumped it in the bag and turned to retrieve more clothes.
Isaac grabbed her wrists. “You’re not going anywhere.”
She looked at him through tear-filled eyes. “I have to.” She sniffed. “Don’t you see? They need me.”
Isaac shook his head. “How do you know this is not a ploy to make you move? The minute you hopped on an airplane, they would find you…and kidnap you. They would haul you back to the desert and force you to suffer the same fate as those young girls.” Through clenched teeth he added, “Or even worse, they would decide you’re not worth it and just kill you.”
He pulled her to his broad chest and ran a soothing hand up and down her back. “I can’t let that happen.”
Helplessness overtook her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and let her head drop to his shoulder. For the first time in years, she allowed the tears to flow rather than turn them into anger and determination. Those young girls were 6,500 miles away, and she could do nothing to stop the brutality that had started the moment they were taken. Without a doubt, the YPJ was already looking for their location, planning a raid and rescue.
Hannah allowed that knowledge and the faith in the women she had trained beside to help her regain her composure. She replaced the horrific pictures on television with memories of looking down her scope, an ISIS soldier in the crosshairs. Her battalion would find those young girls and free them.
To get her unruly emotions under control, Hannah dragged in a deep breath and inhaled the distinct scent of man. It was intoxicating. She could easily escape into his comfort, allowing his arms to shield her from the evil of the world. How she longed to fall deep asleep next to this man.
She rolled her head and laid her lips on his neck.
His breathing caught for one heartbeat, then he released it slowly. She wasn’t sure what his reaction meant, so she kissed her way around his beard to the spot just below his ear.
Pressed up against him, chest to chest, hips to hips, thigh to thigh, she couldn’t miss the way his cock leaped to life.
Oh, yes. He wanted her. For just one night, she could take what she needed from this very willing man.
She smiled and sucked the lobe of his ear into her mouth.
Isaac’s hands flew to her shoulders, and he took a giant step backward, nearly out into the hallway. “Hannah, you’re upset.” He dropped his hands then shoved them in his pockets. “I never should’ve touched you. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” Grinning, she closed the distance between them. “And I liked the way you touched me.” She ran her hands up his solid chest and wove them around his neck. “Do it again,” she whispered as she traced her tongue over the curves of his ear.
His chest shuddered as he let out a long breath. She could feel his hands, still buried in his pockets, balled into fists. “Hannah, we can’t do this.” He glanced up into the corner of the hallway and for the first time she, noticed
a small red light.
Was that a camera? She thought it was just a motion detector. Angry, she dropped her arms, placing her hands on her hips. “Is there video surveillance in the house?”
Isaac looked at his stocking feet and quietly answered, “Yes. And audio.”
She glanced over her shoulder to her bedroom. “Everywhere?”
He looked at her and quickly reassured, “No. Hallways, all the main areas, stairwells. The outdoor cameras cover every exit and window.”
“Is someone watching us all the time?” Her mind raced back through the past several days. She never made a habit of walking around naked, but there might’ve been times before Isaac arrived that she had walked down the hall in a lacy bra and matching bikini panties.
“Hannah, you are a high-value target,” he said as though that explained everything.
“Have these always been video and audio?” She knew her voice was accusing but couldn’t stop it.
“Yes.” Isaac then shook his head. “No. When the system was installed it had full capabilities, but since the house wasn’t used very often, the local security company left them on motion sensors. I converted it when I arrived and changed everything over to our Guardian Security system.”
Whew. That was a relief. Then she remembered her wet shirt and very visible dark nipples. She shrugged. What was done was done. She couldn’t change that. “Well, I hope they enjoyed my show the other night.”
The corners of Isaac’s mouth kicked up. “I certainly did,” he said just above a whisper barely moving his lips.
She stepped back into the depths of her bedroom, hoping he would follow her into her personal privacy. He stopped at the doorway, his hands braced on either side.
She spun around and looked into his deep brown eyes. “Are the cameras why you won’t touch me?”
His chin dropped to his chest. “No.” He raised his head. His gaze felt like fingers touching every part of her body as he visually traced her curves. “You know how much I want you.” He glanced down at his tented shorts. “I can’t hide that fact. But I’m here to protect you. If I’m concentrating on licking and sucking your clit until you scream my name, or thrusting inside of you seeking my own release, I’m not focused on the next threat.”
Dirty talk had never excited Hannah before, but now she tingled at her core and went wet at the vision he painted. She could practically feel the heat of his breath on her thighs. Oh, yes. She wanted that. Now would be nice.
Like the burst of frigid air when a door opens in the wintertime, she realized the rest of his words. If they were wrapped up in sex, they were both vulnerable. Literally exposed. More than once, she had shot a target with his pants down.
He was right, damn it.
Suddenly tired, the letdown after an adrenaline rush, she announced, “I’m going to bed.” She looked up at the gorgeous man who filled her doorway. “Unfortunately, alone.”
“I’ll check the house before calling it a night.” Isaac turned and walked away.
Hannah tossed the half-packed duffel onto the floor and crawled into bed. After her day of sunshine and fresh air, exhaustion quickly overtook her.
Isaac’s voice pulled Hannah from a deep sleep. Although she couldn’t hear the words, his tone was clear. Before she could roll out of bed, he was standing on one leg in the doorway, sliding the other into long underwear.
“We’re leaving. Plan to be in the cold for several hours.”
Chapter 7
Isaac’s phone had buzzed on the nightstand what felt like five minutes after he’d fallen asleep. Opening his eyes, he checked the clock. It was four thirty in the morning. He lifted the phone and adrenaline shot straight to his heart when he saw the caller ID was Guardian’s Atlanta Operations Center.
Before he could utter a word, the man on the other end urgently said, “Get her out of there. Now.”
Phone in hand, Isaac grabbed the long underwear he knew he would need and hurried to Hannah’s open door. Thankfully, she was awake. She seemed to accept his orders to move quickly and dress warmly.
Turning back to his own room, Isaac demanded, “Sit rep.” Secretly he hoped the situational report was not as bad as he had feared.
He was wrong.
“Satellite surveillance shows two heat signatures sitting in an SUV 500 feet down the street.” That wasn’t good news, but the man back in Atlanta didn’t stop there. “Second SUV with two people in the front seats located 150 feet to the east. Two tangos approaching very slowly from the back.”
“Fuck.” Isaac slid into his cold weather gear. Since he never unpacked, he grabbed his bag in his free hand and headed across the hall, hoping Hannah had at least found some clothes to wear. He’d dress her himself if he had to.
“Confirming, your count is six tangos.”
“Count is correct,” the ops center attendant replied.
Hannah stepped into the hall at the same time he did. She was all dressed in white with a ski mask covering her gorgeous long, dark hair. She held a pistol in her right hand, a large duffel in her left, and had a sniper rifle slung down her back.
Who the fuck was this woman? He had never known a female to get ready so fast, but he’d never known one whose life depended on dressing in seconds.
She went to the natural wood fireplace and grabbed some ashes, smearing her pristine clothes with shades of gray and black.
Camouflage. A damn good idea. Isaac looked at his black pants and black turtleneck. He selected white ashes and started making splotches all over his clothes.
“My SUV is parked a block away, out the back,” Hannah handed Isaac the burned end of a log and turned her back to him.
“We’ll have to get past the two guys in the backyard.” Not needing further instruction, he made squiggly lines and broad swaths of black, breaking up the white of her outline.
“No problem, as long as you can quietly take out your guy.” Hannah turned around to face him for a second then shoved his shoulders so she could apply white dust to his back.
She smacked his ass. “You’re good to go.”
Moving like a ball in a pinball game, darting around the dark living room, he watched Hannah collect weapons from the couch, stuffed down the sides of chairs, strapped underneath the dining table, and behind the kickboard under kitchen cabinets.
Holy hell. She had been prepared for an all out attack. Thank God.
“When were you going to tell me about all that?” Isaac asked as she strode toward him. “Your arsenal would’ve been good to know earlier.”
She walked past him and headed toward the stairs to the basement. “I didn’t know if I could trust you. I thought I might need to use them against you.”
Isaac wanted to grin. “So you trust me now?”
“Looks like it,” was her only confirmation as she disappeared down the stairwell.
They kept to the shadows on the far side of the recreation room, away from the moonlight shining through the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard. Isaac about had a heart attack when Hannah stopped in the small downstairs kitchen. She opened the freezer and pulled out yet another gun and two magazines.
She reached underneath the breakfast counter. “How are you fixed for weapons?” She pulled out an Uzi mini submachine gun. “Do you want to take this one?”
“Never turn down a weapon,” the senior chief had once said during tactical training. Reaching for it, Isaac checked the chamber. Of course it was loaded. He made sure the safety was on and shoved it into the side pocket of his bag.
In the equipment room, they grabbed their backcountry packs. Isaac was thankful he listened to the little voice in his head when he also brought in his boots and telemark skis the night before. He had wanted to check the fit of the new skins and give them one more coat of wax.
On his knees, he reached into the small bag he’d brought from Guardian Security and pulled out two boxes. “This is for you.”
Hannah glanced over her shoulder at the small dark case
in his hand. “I hope that’s a communications unit and not an engagement ring.”
He was glad she used humor to relieve the stress of the situation. His SEAL team often exchanged crude jokes just before stepping into danger.
The heavily padded container was about the same size as a ring box. This time, Isaac didn’t hold back a smile as he slid the tiny device into his ear and informed the ops center technician that he was switching from telephone to field communications.
While Atlanta couldn’t hear, he leaned in close to her. “I couldn’t marry a woman I hadn’t even fucked yet…or at least tasted.”
He watched Hannah’s huge brown eyes turn to molten milk chocolate in the reflected light of the small penlight they were using in the closed room. His boss would not be happy with his rough language around a client, but Isaac liked what teasing did to her.
Refocusing, Isaac tapped his ear. “Atlanta Center, comm check.”
“Loud and clear,” came the reply. “Code name for this op?”
“Designate Snowman.” He’d been tagged with the name when he first started BUD/S, the schooling every SEAL must complete. It had stuck.
Hannah’s smile lit up the room, or at least his heart. “I like it. It’s appropriate.” She flicked the tiny button to activate her device. After embedding it in her ear, she said, “Testing. This is Hannah Kader, code name Blink.”
“Blink?” That was one of the strangest handles Isaac had never heard.
She gave him a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, piss me off, and I’ll kill you in the blink of an eye.”
She slid into the backpack straps and buckled it securely around her hips and across her chest. She handed him her alpine touring skis. “Tuck these into the straps, please.”
“Tango one is thirty feet down the hedge on the east side of the yard.” The clarity of the transmission from Atlanta was amazing. “He just slipped over to the neighbor’s side to avoid the automatic external lights. No worries for you. I have disabled them.”
