Two minutes later a dilapidated truck rounded the bend. Twelve or fourteen armed men bailed out and took cover in the brush and behind the vehicle.
Bullets kicked up dirt and pinged off the crumbled concrete where he and Arrow had taken cover. Another adrenaline rush hit Brett’s system. He rolled to the edge of the fountain, looked through the scope, and took aim while Arrow laid down suppressing fire.
Minutes stretched like hours as they hunkered down behind the fountain. Arrow picked off three tangos with his M-5 while Brett took out another four.
Five minutes later an Apache helicopter flew down the valley, spotted the truck, and blew the vehicle off the weed-strewn path. The shooting stopped. The few remaining tangos bugged out toward the village.
With the area now covered by the Nicaraguan troops inside the Chinook helicopter, Brett fell in with the rest of his squad and searched the church. Finding nothing there other than a few cell phones to analyze for intel, they loaded the six hostages, all men, aboard the Chinook. The SEALs piled in with them and settled beside the Nicaraguan soldiers. The Apache flew a parallel position, covering the transport helicopter.
None of Brett’s team were hurt, so Denotti, with Ashe assisting him, went to work on the hostage’s worst injuries. One rescue went in and out of consciousness. The smell of his septic wound circulated through the fuselage.
Brett fought against a quick wave of nausea and focused on passing out water bottles. The other injured man, too weak to talk, clung to Lieutenant Harding’s hand and wept. The rest of the grimy hostages remained silent, the ordeal they’d endured written on their faces and bony limbs.
Three hours later, after the hostages had been loaded on a large truck to be taken to a hospital in Chinandega, the team settled into a patch of shade outside a small tin building while they waited for transport back to their hangar.
The adrenaline high from the action had long passed and now exhaustion set in. Brett’s limbs felt heavy as he stretched and tilted his head back against the metal building. He closed his eyes. He could use a nap.
One more mission down without an injury. Every op they completed without losing a man or having one hurt was a victory. He was one more mission closer to being with Tess. Marrying, Tess.
“Why don’t we ever get to follow through and deliver the people we rescue to the hospital?” Ashe asked. He took a long slug from a water bottle.
“Have you smelled yourself lately, Ashe?” Swan asked.
“That was kind of my point. I could use a shower and there are always showers at a hospital,” Ashe said.
“Can’t argue with that, Swan.” Brett chuckled and forced his eyelids open. “A warm shower sounds pretty good to me, too.”
He fell silent as he noticed Lieutenant Harding speaking into a SAT phone. his expression grave. When Harding looked in his direction, Brett’s shoulders tightened.
“Cutter,” Harding motioned to him.
Brett rose and strode toward him. Harding nodded as he continued to speak into the phone.
He hung up and focused on Brett. “As soon as we return to the hangar, you’re to stow your gear, and get your passport and other shit together. Transport will be sent to take you to the airport in Chinandega. From there you’ll be flown into San Diego.”
He was going home! For a moment joy rushed through him, but Lieutenant Harding’s expression tamped his elation as quickly as it hit. His heart drummed in his throat. Something was wrong. “Has something happened to my family?”
Harding and Engle exchanged a look. “There’s been an incident involving your fianceé. Command wants you in San Diego stat.”
Brett had depended on his training to keep him grounded and in control, but nothing prepared him for those words. The blood drained from his head, his ears filled with static, as if he was under water. His breathing became labored. This couldn’t be right. If something was going to happen to anyone it was supposed to be him. “Is she—?”
Engle grabbed his arm. “She’s okay. A bit banged up. But she’ll be fine.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Tess was hurt. “How bad is it? What’s happened?”
Harding’s tone was almost harsh. “They think it might be another attack directed at you. Her car was blown up.”
Chapter Five
‡
Time crept by with the speed and determination of a blind sloth. Tess paced around her small apartment. From living room, to kitchen to bedroom, then back again required little time or thought. Every muscle protested, but she continued her restless rounds.
Where was Brett? He’d called her the day before and promised to be home by early afternoon. It was creeping toward evening and still no word. She needed to know if he was okay. Where he was. When he would be here.
They’d been apart ten long, lonely months and—her eyes glazed with tears—she needed to feel his arms around her. Hear his voice. Smell his sexy scent. She stomped to the apartment door and jerked it open.
The young policeman sitting in a chair outside the door stood quickly. He was thin, tall, and looked about fifteen. “Is there a problem, ma’am?”
Her head throbbed dully. The doctor said she had a concussion. At the time she hadn’t thought so, but ever since she’d woke up a low grade headache beat relentlessly at the base of her skull. Her shoulder blades and her back were a mass of bruises and scrapes. Every move hurt. “I was just checking. You know what my fiancé looks like?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Officer Stanifer. I’ve been briefed by the officer who just left.”
“Thanks for being here. I just—I’m just anxious to—”
“I understand, ma’am.”
She nodded and closed the door. She leaned her forehead against it and closed her eyes.
She needed to either go back to bed or work. Either one would help pass the time until Brett arrived.
Since she’d missed her interviews the day before, she decided to deal with them, and sat down at her desk and picked up the phone. Ten minutes later she’d rescheduled her meetings for the next day. Life had to go on. She wouldn’t hide inside her apartment indefinitely. She had a wedding coming up and last-minute arrangements to take care of. And she had a job to do.
The police and the FBI were so focused on her position as a newspaper reporter, they’d forgotten she was like any other woman. They’d also shrugged aside her suspicions, ignored the information she’d gathered, and instead fixated on her car going up like a failed moon launch. They had decided the incident was a terrorist attack. All because of the actions taken against Brett and Captain Jackson over a year ago.
She’d bet her next paychecks terrorists didn’t have a damn thing to do with her car blowing up. This attack hadn’t been directed at Brett, but at her.
Mary Stubben had been killed and someone believed the secretary had passed on important information to Tess. She was convinced of it. Things aligned too precisely for it to be anything else.
But if Mary had gathered more evidence against her boss, where was it?
Tess pushed away from her desk and wandered toward the window, then stopped. She’d been told to stay away from the windows. “Damn!” This was driving her crazy.
A tap interrupted the thought, and she caught her breath. Her heart raced. Brett. She rushed to open the door. The same young police officer stood outside. “You’re fiancé is on his way up,” he said with a grin. “Thought I’d give you a heads up.”
Leaving the door open, Tess hurried to the living room mirror. She finger-combed her hair and checked her makeup. She smoothed the sleek shift she’d put on for Brett. The last time she’d worn it he’d told her he loved the way it made her legs look a mile long.
Approaching steps sounded in the hallway, and she hurried to the door again.
Brett shouldered a heavy green duffle. His cammies looked faded and well worn. A heavy beard shaded the lower half of his face. Exhaustion darkened the skin beneath his eyes, but the moment he saw her, he smiled. He dropped the duffle bag in
midstride and rushed toward her with the determination of a man who hadn’t seen his woman in ten months.
Tess reminded herself she wasn’t going to cry, but as she hurried forward to meet him, tears pricked her eyes. Her arms encircled his neck and she buried her face against his shoulder. He crushed her against him, causing both pain and pleasure. She ignored it and clung to him. Emotion spilled over her, and the tears she’d managed to hold back streamed down her cheeks in a rush.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Brett broke the silence, his voice husky.
She couldn’t speak, could only continue to hold him. He smelled of outdoors, machine oil, and him. His body, muscular and strong, rested tightly against hers, giving her a sense of shelter and care.
“I dream of how you smell,” Brett murmured as he pressed his lips against her throat. “Good thing since I’ve been living with a group of guys who reek like wet dogs who’ve wallowed in a swamp. Worse—a stagnant swamp. I may bury my nose in the crook of your neck for the next week. It’ll take that long to forget.”
Despite her tears, Tess laughed and tipped her head back to look at him.
Brett brushed the wetness from her cheeks with his thumbs, his pale blue gaze trailing over her face, searching and tender. He bent his head and kissed her, the pressure of his mouth, gentle, loving. “Are you okay?”
Tess nodded. “Now you’re here I’m better.”
He rested his lips against her forehead, then tucked her in close against his side. “We’re always stronger together.”
“Yes, we are,” she agreed.
Aware of the young police officer waiting, witnessing their reunion, she turned to him, taking Brett’s hand. “Brett, this is Officer Stanifer.”
Brett offered his other hand. “Thanks for keeping my fianceé safe.”
Stanifer actually blushed while he shook hands. “No problem. I’ll get your bag.” He lifted the heavy duffle, set it inside the apartment, and took up his post again. Brett thanked him.
Tess closed the door and leaned against it. The dark rings beneath Brett’s eyes stood out in the shadowed apartment. Moved by the need to take care of him, she said, “How does a meal sound? I haven’t eaten anything since a bowl of oatmeal early this morning.”
“Food sounds good. Later.” He stepped close and wrapped her in his arms again. “I just need to hold you for a while, Tess.”
Something in his tone gripped her throat with emotion. She nodded and, sliding her arms around his waist, nestled as close to him as she could get.
His voice grew hoarse. “For a moment, when Lieutenant Harding told me what had happened, I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m okay. A bit bruised here and there.”
He brushed back her hair, raised her chin and pressed his lips to hers.
Brett had been tender, passionate, and playful with her. She had seen him in every mood, or so she’d thought—until now.
“I love you,” he said, his expression serious.
She caressed his check. “I love you, too.”
“I want you to tell me who you think might have done this. I don’t believe it was another terrorist group from Iraq or Afghanistan.”
“Have the men from homeland security been questioning you, too?” she asked.
“Yeah. I was questioned for about four hours as soon as my plane landed at the Naval Air Station on North Island.”
So that was why he was so late. And why he looked so exhausted. He’d come out of the field, then had to go back over everything that had happened at Captain Jackson’s house, no doubt in exhaustive detail, and for the hundredth time.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think it was terrorists.” She ran a soothing hand along his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard. “I believe it was a man named Jonathan Frye. He’s the CEO of a construction company, and I think he’s responsible for at least three deaths. But Homeland Security and the FBI are fixated on terrorists and don’t believe anything I’m saying. Or if they do, they’re too busy ruling other possibilities out to look into this one.”
He sighed. “Once I get some shuteye, eat something, and make love with you about half a dozen times, we’re going to chase some truth. How does that sound?”
“Meaning you’re going to help me do some investigative journalism?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Two full days trapped in the apartment had left her with nothing to do but stew about everything. She was ready to go out and kick some journalistic butt. She smiled. “Which do you want to do first?”
Brett laughed. “Sounds like a trick question.” He touched her forehead with his lips. “I’d get the job done. Then fall asleep for about a week. I’d rather be in shape enough to talk coherently after we make love.”
“How about a meal, a nap and then we’ll see where that takes us?”
“Perfect.”
“Breakfast or dinner?” she asked.
“Anything. I haven’t had a good meal in—a long time.”
Okay.” She offered her hand. “You can help me.” She knew him. He’d fall asleep, take one of his power naps, and be up all night.
Brett smiled and grasped her hand. “My pleasure.”
*
After eating a quick meal of beef stir fry and rice, Brett stripped off his uniform and stretched out on Tess’s bed in his boxer briefs. While he watched her undress, he realized, out of all the things he missed when he was gone, it was the small things she did he missed the most. The way she laughed at his corny jokes. The way she moved, the sound of her voice, the way she slept curled against him, the way she would run her fingernails down his ribs to tickle him.
Tess pulled loose the scrunchie she’d used to confine her hair while cooking. The dark auburn strands had grown since his deployment and now fell down her back. A quick grimace of pain flitted across her features, her normal graceful movements disrupted.
Every time she hesitated while doing something, every time she flinched, the anger trapped beneath his breastbone flared hotter. He would find the bastard responsible for hurting her. He wouldn’t kill him, though he wanted to. But he planned to seriously fuck him up.
“Did you call your mom and let her know you’re home?” Tess asked from behind the closet door.
From a glimpse of her movements, he guessed she was slipping out of her dress and putting on something else to lie down in. Was she hiding her bruises from him? The anger tripped over into rage.
She glanced around the edge of the door, and he homed in on her face. The falling sensation hit the pit of his stomach, similar to when Harding notified him about the car blowing up. If something happened to her, he’d go crazy. God, he loved her so much. “I called Mom while I was on the plane and told her we’d see her tomorrow. I knew HQ would want to debrief me before I could talk to you or anyone else. Then Homeland and the FBI met me at the base.”
“So you got a triple dose. Poor baby.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “They asked me the same questions, a hundred different ways. It was a complete waste of time.”
At least he’d been able to write his report about the mission enroute and submit it before they landed. He ran a hand over his eyes. He was flagging fast. He’d been without sleep for more than twenty-four hours. Without the adrenaline of physical activity and danger to keep him primed, he craved sleep.
Tess climbed onto the bed dressed in a T-shirt and bikini panties.
“Oh, babe. Why don’t you hold that pose for a minute or ten and let me look at you? It’s been ten long, long months.”
Tess laughed and rose on her knees to put her hands behind her head, her movements careful, as she stretched her lean body back in a model pose.
She took his breath away, she was so beautiful. She’d still be gorgeous when she was seventy. The urge to sleep evaporated and his body quickened.
He needed to be close. Real close. And make up for being so far away for so many months. He patted the bed beside him.
“I thoug
ht you wanted me to hold the pose.” She smiled, a teasing light twinkling in her sherry-brown eyes. Her gaze tracked down to his obvious erection. “Or do you have something else in mind?”
With his cock just begging for attention, Brett said, “I want to get as close to you as I can, for as long as I can. I’ve missed you like crazy.”
The teasing light dimmed. She crawled to him and straddled his hips. Bracing her arms, she looked down at him. “I love you. I’ve thought of you a hundred times a day and reached for the phone to call you at least that many times. Every day.”
“Ditto, honey. I’m sorry—”
“Shh…” She pressed her fingers against his lips. “I love you and I’m so proud of what you do.” She seemed to struggle between a smile and tears for a moment until the smile won out. “But while you’re here you have to make up for all the sexual frustration I experienced while you were gone.”
Brett laughed. “No problem.” He ran his hands beneath the satiny weight of her hair to cup the back of her head and pull her mouth down to his. Their lips and tongues meshed, then tangled in deep, slow, kisses. Had he ever wanted a woman this much? He wanted to hold her, make out with her, for hours.
She pulled her T-shirt up just enough to rest her breasts against his chest. He caught his breath at the silky glide of her skin against his. “God, you feel so good, Tess.” He cupped the rounded curve of her ass and groaned when she moved her hips to tempt him.
When he pulled up her T-shirt, she tensed. “I have some road rash along my shoulder blades. It’s a little tender.”
“Let me see, honey.”
“Nope. Later. You’re supposed to be concentrating on us, not a few scrapes.”
From the way she moved, she had more than scrapes. If she wanted to put dealing with them on the back burner—But he couldn’t.
He pushed up into a half-seated position and traced the edge of her jaw with his lips. “As much as I want you, Tess, just being here with you is more important to me. If you’re too sore, we have time for the other stuff later.”
Building Ties (Military Romantic Suspense) (SEAL Team Heartbreakers Book 4) Page 5
