The Darkest Corner

by Liliana Hart

  Tess hadn’t realized the enormity of what they were planning to do until that moment. “There’s no other way to get on that tanker?” she asked. She knew the worry was evident in her voice, but she didn’t care.

  “It’s the only way to go in undetected,” Deacon told her. “We’re all experienced. We’ve done it plenty of times. Going in a safer way would put all of us in more danger. They’ll be looking for visible threats. So we have to be invisible.”

  “Right,” she said, remembering Deacon’s explanation of what exactly a HALO jump was. “So you’re going to jump from a plane at thirty thousand feet, in freezing temperatures, and you’re going to free-fall for two and a half minutes until you’re almost at your target. Then you’re going to pull the chute at the last possible second and land on the tanker. Pardon my French, but that is fucking insane.”

  “You know that’s not actually French, oui?” Colin said.

  She growled at him, and his lips quirked in a smile as he went back to his computer.

  “Insane,” Deacon agreed. “But necessary. And fun.”

  “What am I supposed to do while you’re jumping out of airplanes? And please don’t tell me I’m not coming with you. You’ll need someone there to collect your bodies if you miss the target.”

  “Damn, that’s harsh,” Elias said. “I like her.”

  “You’ll stay with Dante,” Deacon told her. “He’s manning the sub.”

  “Sub?” she asked. “As in submarine.”

  “Yeah, you’ll love it. Unless you get claustrophobic. Then you might not love it so much.”

  “Wow.” She was trying to remember what it felt like to be a plain old mortician in plain old Last Stop, Texas. That seemed like a million years ago. “So all this equipment—the plane, the pilot, the submarine—they’re just going to show up when and where you need them? No questions asked?”

  “That’s what The Shadow is for,” Elias said. “Creepy motherfuckers. We’ve never actually seen them. Who knows how many there are or where they come from. We can only hope they never turn against us.”

  “Well, that’s comforting,” she said sarcastically, then turned to Dante. “When do we leave?”

  “We’ll all fly to Alaska day after tomorrow. You and I will head out to the sub hours before they leave for the jump. The sub is fast, but not quite as fast as the plane. We want to make sure we’re there in plenty of time. We’ll dock the sub as close to Russian waters as we can get, and then I’ll take the Zodiac for the pick-up and bring them back. The submarine has advanced technology that will keep us from being detected from radar.”

  “Sounds good,” Tess said. “If you’re a deranged adrenaline junkie looking for a death wish.”

  “That pretty much sums up my SEAL team,” Elias said. “You’re a quick study. You might survive this after all.”

  “Thanks,” she said dryly.

  DEACON WORKED TIRELESSLY, checking and double-checking plans, coordinates, and equipment. It was his job as team leader to make sure there were no mistakes. It was after midnight by the time he was satisfied, and when he looked up he noticed things had gotten quiet while he’d been preoccupied.

  Elias and Dante had gone to their own homes to get a solid night’s sleep before their early-morning wakeup call. He assumed Colin and Axel had done the same and adjourned upstairs. Levi sat at one of the computer screens poring over intel. He still wasn’t approved for field missions, so he’d be staying behind. He was taking the night watch to handle any new intel that might come in while the rest of the team was sleeping.

  And then there was Tess. Her head rested on the stack of papers she’d been painstakingly translating, and she was fast asleep. They had what they needed for the upcoming mission, but there were still missing pieces of the larger attack being planned. But for now she deserved the rest. Her hair was spread out over the table and her hands looked small and delicate.

  He pushed back his chair and stretched stiff muscles that had been sitting still too long. He walked over to her and touched the tips of her hair with his fingers. Her hair glowed like fire, but was soft to the touch. He touched her back gently, expecting her to stir, but she didn’t move.

  Even when he picked her up in his arms, she only nuzzled into him and sighed. There were dark smudges beneath her thick lashes, and her face was pale, making the sprinkle of freckles across her nose more prominent.

  He carried her upstairs and into the kitchen, and then up another set of stairs to the second floor. When he got to his door, he shifted her slightly so his thumb could be scanned to unlock the door. When he looked down, her green eyes were watchful and sleepy, focused solely on him.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said softly.

  “It’s okay. I think I’d recognize your touch anywhere.”

  If it wouldn’t have hurt his ego to admit it, he would’ve sworn his knees went weak with the way she looked at him.

  “I was going to let you sleep,” he said, pushing open the door and slipping inside the room. The lights were on low and the blinds were drawn.

  “And now?” she asked curiously.

  “And now I’m not,” he said.

  He was a simple man. The room was large and his space was clean. But it was a utilitarian space. The bed was large and the sheets and comforter were like a cloud of softness in simple neutrals. As in every home he’d ever had, he had no personal items or mementos. No photographs. It was just a room to sleep in. But he’d never had another woman in that bed, and that somehow seemed significant at the moment.

  He let her down to her feet slowly, but kept her wrapped in his arms. And then he released her and tugged at the buttons of the soft dress shirts she favored.

  “I need to put my hands on you,” he rasped.

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

  “Not nearly enough.” He spread the shirt wide and let it fall from her shoulders. Her bra was white and plain—no frills—but it seduced him like nothing else ever had. He opened the button on her jeans and pushed them down over her hips and to the floor.

  “The undressing part always seems sexier in the movies,” she said. “I wish I was wearing something else.”

  “Believe me,” he said, drinking in the sight of her long, lean body. “You’re not standing where I’m standing. Nothing could be sexier.”

  He lifted her in his arms and carried her over to the bed. The lights over the bed were dimmed and cast her in a soft glow as he lay her down. Her hair fanned around her face like a flame, and her eyes were steady on his as he came down on top of her.

  There was no hurry. No rush of hands. Only the simple need to savor and taste every inch of her. He never took his eyes off hers as he leaned in to kiss her—sweetly, softly—and his hands twined with hers. His mouth moved down to her neck, and he felt her pulse leap and quicken. And then he went farther still and took her cotton-covered breast in his mouth, dampening the fabric and feeling her nipple bead tautly.

  She arched beneath him and her fingers tightened on his. And then she went limp and her grip fell from his as he continued to kiss his way down her body. He nipped at her hip and tugged at the elastic waist of the cotton that was all that was left between them, pulling it down so she was bared to him.

  Need slammed into him, the scent of her enticing him. A barely restrained groan escaped her throat, and her nails dug into the sheets as his mouth found her and devoured. She tasted of liquid sunshine and nectar, and her legs wrapped around him so her heels pressed into his upper back. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and her hips writhed against his mouth. Her cry of release echoed in the room, and he tasted the rush of her pleasure as he savored every drop of her.

  He no longer had patience. The need for her clawed inside of him and had to escape. He kicked off his shoes and tugged his shirt over his head. And tossed his jeans in a heap on the floor. His body was tense and his cock rock hard and aching.

  He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on. Then h
e knelt on the bed between her legs and came over her. She lay before him, panting, her body flushed and still yearning for more. Her lips were swollen, and he could see the marks from his beard across her skin. Her skin was so sensitive, and he ran two fingers down her neck and chest, causing her to shiver. He flicked the front clasp of her bra and she shrugged out of it, so she was completely naked. She shivered as he lowered himself and took a small nipple in his mouth.

  “Please,” she begged. “Hurry.”

  “I was in a hurry,” he said, taking his time. “But I’ve found I have a renewed sense of patience. I like seeing you writhe beneath me.”

  Her legs hooked around his hips, trying to pull him forward, but he held back, only the head of his cock brushing against the curls between her thighs.

  “Just remember that turnabout’s fair play,” she panted. “As soon as I recover I’ll have you begging for more.”

  He chuckled low and found her opening, wet and ready for him, and he pushed—just a little—so she was stretched around him but not fulfilled. A scream of frustration tore from her throat, and her green eyes blazed as she glared up at him.

  “Deacon,” she panted.

  “Yes, baby?”

  She leaned up and bit his bottom lip, surprising him, and then whispered, “Fuck me.”

  Any semblance of control was shattered at those two little words. He plunged inside of her, and they moved together as if there had only been the two of them since the dawn of time. Sighs mingled with gasps of pleasure, and he felt her tighten, felt the spasms start deep within her.

  He gritted his teeth and their hands joined as she went molten around him. And then he felt his own release jerk from his body with no warning, so powerful it was as if his very soul had entered her.

  They lay tangled together for what could’ve been minutes or hours, sweat cooling on their skin and their breaths evening out. He shifted their bodies and disposed of the condom, and then he gathered her close in his arms. He thought she might have drifted off to sleep, and he was about to move to pull the covers over them when she stretched languidly, her body rubbing against his. Damned if his cock didn’t stir in response.

  “What are you doing?” he asked as she halfway sat up and began sliding down his body. His erection was more than at half-mast at this point, and she laughed, the sound full of sorcery and seduction, as she noticed the effect her touch had on him.

  “I told you turnabout was fair play,” she said, kissing his hip.

  His eyes rolled back in his head as she licked him in one long stroke, and he went from half-mast to full-mast in seconds.

  “Fuck,” he groaned as her mouth tortured him. “I believe you now.”

  “Too little, too late,” she teased. And then she moved off the bed and left him wanting. She looked over her shoulder as she headed toward the bathroom. “You’ll have to be patient with me. I’ve never swallowed.”

  She winked, and he watched her sweet ass disappear into the bathroom.

  “Jesus,” he said, taking a hard hold of his cock. He almost came then and there. “At least I’ll die a happy man.” And then he followed behind her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The darkness pressed in on him at thirty thousand feet. His skin was clammy with sweat beneath his specially designed flight suit. He kept his head pressed against the wall of the C-130 cargo plane and focused on breathing. He was closed inside a metal can at thirty thousand feet. It wasn’t the fear of falling from the sky that had his balls in his throat. It was the ever-shrinking walls of the plane, the decrease in oxygen as they ascended higher, and the darkness that kept pressing in on him.

  His only reprieve was to think of Tess. He’d been selfish to keep her up the hours before they’d left instead of letting her sleep, but he hadn’t been able to get enough of her. He wanted to imprint himself on her memory, on her body, so that if anything happened to him she’d know how much he loved her. They’d made love for hours. And that’s exactly what it had been.

  Making love.

  They’d only dozed for what seemed like minutes before it was time to get up and dress. Her eyes had been shadowed, and he could see the worry etched in her face, but she gathered her things in silence and nodded in thanks when he handed her an insulated cup of coffee.

  Her eyes had grown large and round when they’d showed her the way to the underground tunnel and strapped everything to both of the ATVs, but still there was no talking. As they sped out of the tunnel, he kept his hands tight on the wheel, focusing on the end of it and not imagining the walls caving in on him—being buried alive in the rubble—again.

  The chopper had been waiting for them, ready for takeoff, and he’d squeezed her hand in reassurance when she looked at the lake in its stillness—as if she’d never see it again. The ride had been short to the private airstrip where their plane waited. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when they made takeoff.

  The jet was equipped with much of the same equipment HQ was, and their focus was on making sure the tanker didn’t change course or that the Russians didn’t try to confuse the satellite for the twelve-hour flight to Nome, Alaska. But the Russians seemed confident in their abilities of concealment, which was their mistake.

  He was proud of her. He didn’t think many civilians could handle the kind of pressure she was under at the moment—understanding how high the stakes were and thrown into a situation where she no longer had control. Where her mental and physical capacities would be tested, and her ability to trust would be her saving grace.

  They landed on an abandoned stretch of land, nothing more than grass and gravel, just outside of Nome. It was the closest point of origin for traveling to the Bering Sea. Transport was waiting, two identical Humvees, set to take them to their destinations—Dante and Tess to the submarine, and he and the others to prepare for the HALO jump onto the tanker. If everything went according to plan, he’d see her again in another eight hours. He didn’t want to begin to think about not seeing her again.

  He kissed her good-bye—long and hard—and he knew he’d drawn looks from the others. He no longer cared if they thought he was just carrying out Eve’s orders. Then he got in the Humvee with the others and focused on the job at hand. He had to. He couldn’t afford to think of her when so much was at stake.

  They suited up in the one-piece flight suits specifically designed for HALO jumps, which would protect them from the cold, and beneath they wore neoprene dive suits in case they had to spend time in the water. The footwear and gloves also protected them from the freezing temperatures.

  Just after midnight, they loaded up in the C-130 cargo plane. Deacon sat across from Colin and Axel. Elias was to his left. They’d all begun breathing pure oxygen at takeoff, preparing their bodies for the dangerous HALO jump.

  It was a cold and bumpy ride at thirty thousand feet, around twenty-five degrees below zero. Deacon let Elias run point on this leg of the journey because he’d been a SEAL and could do these jumps in his sleep. Experience of his kind was invaluable, and Deacon wasn’t so ego-driven as the team leader that he didn’t recognize the value of an asset.

  They all carried explosives in the small, tightly strapped packs around their waists, a knife secured in their boots, and a pistol secured to their thighs via a healthy dose of duct tape. It was all they could carry in, and even those items had the chance of ripping free in the high-velocity free-fall.

  There were dangers to HALO jumps, but it was the best way to get where they needed to go undetected. And where they needed to go was on that tanker. It was a blind jump, and it was the middle of the night. They wouldn’t have a visual of where they were landing until it was time to deploy the chute. The last thing Deacon wanted was to end up in the water.

  He breathed in the pure oxygen and exhaled slowly to get all the nitrogen flushed from his bloodstream. He had to be more careful because his pulse was already elevated from his claustrophobia. If any nitrogen was left in the bloodstream, it could lead to decompress
ion sickness. Not something anyone wanted to deal with when approaching the enemy.

  They all wore specially made goggles that could resist the cold from that altitude. Without them, their eyeballs could actually freeze. Deacon just prayed he didn’t pass out on the way down. Many jumpers did, and the chute deployed on its own once they reached the right altitude.

  They didn’t speak, but they didn’t have to. They knew the plan. They’d memorized every detail of the tanker from the blueprints. And they had a general idea of how many armed personnel were on board from the aerial satellite images.

  Elias held up two fingers, signaling the two-minute mark, and everyone removed the pure oxygen tank and strapped on the regular oxygen mask securely to his face. The cargo hold of the plane slowly opened and the frigid wind whipped around them.

  Elias had already gone through the scenarios. They were to stay in formation for a two-minute free-fall before opening their chutes. If all went well, they should go undetected by any radar the tanker might have, and it was unlikely any of the guards would see them as they bulleted from the sky.

  Deacon took a couple of deep breaths and waited for the go signal. A red light blinked steadily alongside the cargo hold door, and then it turned green. Off they went, one by one, into the black of night.

  The wind pressed against Deacon’s chest with such force that it was hard to draw in a breath, even with the oxygen mask. The cold seeped into his bones and his vision dimmed as the velocity of the free-fall picked up speed. He watched his altimeter carefully and counted the seconds in his head. Two minutes was a long time to fall.

  Just as the edges of blackness started to claim him, his altimeter displayed the right altitude and he pulled the ripcord on his parachute. It shot up behind him and he shook his head to clear his vision. The tanker was closing in fast, and he was still traveling at a high rate of speed.

  He didn’t focus on the others. That was a good way to end up in the Bering Sea. He looked straight ahead and touched down near the bulkhead. He immediately cut his parachute lines and rolled behind cover, gathering up the black parachute as he did. He reached into his boot and ripped off the tape securing his weapon, shoving it behind the small of his back. He would prefer not to use it unless absolutely necessary. There was no need alerting everyone they were there.