Searing Need

by Tracey Devlyn

  “Operator Monroe. Stand, please.”

  With red-rimmed eyes, General Delarosa stood at Coen’s feet, with her back erect, shoulders squared, and hands clasped behind her back. Reid and Colonel Walsh had disappeared, though Riley still sensed their presence.

  Coen made to rise, his movements more sluggish than normal. Words bubbled in her heart, and she grasped his face. In a low, urgent whisper, she said, “I love you, Coen Monroe. You.”

  When he didn’t blink, didn’t move a muscle, she gave his head a little shake, hoping her words could cut through his grief. “No matter what she says, you’re mine. Mine from this day forward. No Army, no research, no past is going to come between us.” She touched her forehead to his. “Understand? Say you understand.”

  Rather than answer, his hand whispered over her hair as he tilted his head back and touched his lips to hers. Then he rose to face the general. When he mirrored her stance, Riley fell in love with him all over again.

  To have so much pain and sorrow and still be able to stand tall and proud was remarkable—and somehow heart-rending.

  “Hearing my daughter’s last words and thanking you for bringing Kendra home were only part of the reason why I wanted to speak with you.”

  Colonel Walsh returned, standing slightly behind the general.

  “And the other part?” Coen asked, his hands curled into fists.

  “To inform you that after we received your written report, another two teams were dispatched to the encampment where you and my daughter were held.”

  “Did they kill the bastards who hurt Kendra?” Coen’s jaw hardened. “Pardon, ma’am.”

  The colonel took up the story. “Yes, and your assessment of their plans was correct.”

  When no one elaborated, Riley scrambled to her feet. “Which was?”

  After a long, considering pause, the general said, “They found enough bomb-making material to reduce the entire length of Fifth Avenue to a patch of rubble.”

  Riley’s hand covered her mouth. If Coen hadn’t deciphered the threat—and gotten out of Ecuador alive—how many thousands of American and foreign visitors’ lives would have been lost?

  “There’s something else,” Coen said, reading their expressions.

  Once again, the colonel glanced at the general, and she nodded. “On the wall of the barracks, we found a hand nailed above one of the beds. Like a goddamned trophy.” He gathered himself. “Pardon, ma’am.”

  The color drained from Coen’s face, and his shoulders sagged. “Kendra’s?”

  “Yes, son.”

  Coen closed his eyes, and she worried that he’d be thrown back into the past. Lifting the hand that hung listlessly at his side, she threaded their fingers together and placed her other palm on his lower back.

  “My baby’s whole again,” the general said, her voice thick. “Thanks to you.”

  “Thanks to the other team, you mean.”

  “No, you.” Her voice grew stronger. “The Army would never have sanctioned reentry into Ecuador to retrieve a soldier’s body part. Your assessment of the threat allowed us to save many lives—and to finish bringing a soldier home.” She squared her shoulders more. “On behalf of the United States government and from a grateful mother, thank you.”

  Eyes glistening, Coen saluted. “My duty and my honor, ma’am.”

  The general and colonel turned to leave, and Coen’s brows snapped together in confusion. The two officers paused and peered over their shoulders.

  “I expect you back at Fort Bragg in”—the colonel’s attention drifted to Riley, then back to Coen—“two weeks.”

  “Two weeks? What about the mission you mentioned on the phone?”

  “That’s the thing about Delta Force, son. There’s no end to fine, capable operators.” The corner of the colonel’s mouth lifted. “And there’s always another mission around the corner.”

  “You want me back after…” His attention drifted to where they’d held him down on the ground minutes ago.

  “We do—if you’re sure coming back is what you want.”

  When Coen’s gaze slid to hers, she produced her most encouraging smile. “I’m not going anywhere, no matter what you decide.”

  He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. The gentle, reverent touch made her throat close and her nose sting.

  Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he said, “I’ll be there.” His swallow was audible. “Thank you.”

  With a curt nod, Colonel Walsh melted into the forest.

  The general said, “If ever you need anything, anything, you know where to find me.” Not giving him a chance to respond, she turned away.

  He stared after the officers for several long seconds, then he closed his eyes and the tension in his back eased away. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, an easiness she’d never witnessed before had settled into his features.

  Running her fingertips up his spine, she asked, “You okay?”

  He turned until they were facing each other. “Yes. For the first time in a long while, yes.” He titled her chin up, inspecting her face and neck. “Does it hurt?”

  Lifting her hand, she tested several places, feeling the sting of small scrapes and the bite of fresh bruises. “All superficial.”

  “My warrior.” He slid a hand over her hip and drew her closer. “You love me.”

  “Unfortunately for you, yes.”

  Two fingers caressed the edge of her jaw before his hand wrapped around the back of her neck. “I’m yours, huh?”

  “Unfortunately for you, y-yes.” His nearness made her unsteady.

  “I like a woman who claims what she wants.” He nuzzled the side of her nose.

  Her arms snaked around his big body until her nipples brushed against his chest. “And I like a man who’s confident enough to be claimed.” Lifting up on her toes, she kissed the center of his chin. “We can do this.”

  A crooked smile cut a dimple into his cheek. “Unfortunately for you.” His expression turned serious. “It won’t be easy. Not knowing where I am. If I’ll return. No matter what happened here today, I’m not the man I was before entering service.” His thumb toyed with her earlobe. “I will have… bad days.”

  “Isn’t that what loving someone is all about? Enjoying the good days and working through the bad?”

  His smile returned. “I love you, Wynette Riley Kingston.”

  “Ugh,” she complained, “way to kill a moment.”

  “You can call me Coen Julian Monroe if it would make you feel better.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Julian is a great name.”

  “Oh, for the love of God,” Reid said. “Are the two of you going to kiss or what?”

  Riley jerked at the interruption, but Coen simply continued to stare down at her with his I’m-going-to-eat-you-up-for-the-rest-of-your-life sexy expression.

  Reid reclined on a makeshift chair near the cold fire pit.

  “Go away, Coz, I got this covered.” She pressed deeper into Coen’s body and was gratified by the hardness rising up between them.

  Ignoring her, Reid propped his feet up on one of the fire pit stones. “I’m starving. Got any food around this dive?”

  Riley and Coen both laughed and, finally, kissed. A kiss hot enough to make their unwanted visitor blush by the cold fire.

  60

  “Feel the weight of your bones. Feel your breaths moving in and out of your lungs. Move your body, starting with your fingers and toes. Begin the process of engaging your muscles in whatever way is comfortable and intentional to you.”

  The soft female voice helped usher Riley out of her semiconscious state. Cylinders in her brain sparked to life as she slid her arms from beneath the warm throw. She stretched hard and rotated her ankles in wide, sweeping circles. Every cell in her body vibrated to life.

  “When you’re ready, roll onto your side and acknowledge that this practice Yoga Nidra is complete.”

  When Riley turned onto her side, the sock covering he
r eyes slid to the tent floor. Morning’s soft light pressed against the tent’s outer shell, illuminating the interior.

  “Namaste.” The streaming video on Riley’s phone faded out.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and she found Coen facing her with the same peaceful expression she probably wore.

  Lifting up onto his elbow, he leaned over and molded his lips with hers. He kept the kiss warm and luxuriant, steady yet thorough. His tongue brushed against her upper lip before pushing fully inside.

  Before the sun crested the ridge, she’d awoken to a very male, very naked, very ready body snuggled into her equally naked self. Their lovemaking had been slow and sleep drugged.

  An hour later, she’d reached for him, and their coupling had been hot, sexy, and fast—as if it would be their last.

  She squeezed her eyes against the prickling sensation and ended their kiss. Somehow she managed to produce a teasing smile. “Behave yourself. We’re already running behind.”

  He flopped onto his back and hooked an elbow over his eyes. “Cruel woman.”

  Poking him in the side, she corrected him. “Practical woman. Someone has to be the responsible adult in this relationship.”

  “Boooring.”

  “I’ll take boring over late any day.” She grasped his hardness beneath the sheet. “Time to get up, Operator Monroe.”

  Trapping her hand, he growled, “I already am,” and ground himself into her palm.

  The feel of him, the look of his big, toned body, and the taste of him in her mouth from their earlier encounter was more than tempting to a girl who’d gone two and a half decades without sex.

  She started to rip off his sheet when she noticed his cocky smile.

  “Nice try.” She gave him a good squeeze before removing her hand and reaching for the set of clean clothes she’d laid out the night before. “I’ll go start a fire so we can have coffee.” After dressing, she pocketed her phone and zipped open the tent.

  “Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”

  The suggestive tone of his voice alone made Riley’s mouth go dry. But the flesh-and-blood man had other parts of her body going wet. Propped up on an elbow and with one knee raised, he manipulated himself with long, languid strokes.

  Every cell in her body heated until her breaths grew tight, fast. She took a step toward him—and that’s when her watch alarm beeped.

  Coen groaned and shot off his sleeping bag to snatch her. Evading his hands, she burst through the tent flaps with a shriek. A shriek, damn the man!

  On all fours, his upper body pushed through the tent opening. “Come back here, Wynette. I’m not done with you.”

  She jabbed one of their fire starter logs in his direction. “Keep it up and no coffee for you.”

  He chuckled and backed away, like a lion disappearing behind a wall of tall grass. The sound of his laughter burrowed deep into her heart, and she knew she’d need to bring it out and relive it, again and again, in the coming days, weeks, months.

  Once the tinder caught fire and there was no fear of it being extinguished, she swung the kettle over the open flame and dumped the leftover water from the previous evening inside. Deciding she needed to boil a bit more, she headed downstream to refill the container and take care of some personal business.

  After the general dropped her bombshells and left, she and Coen had settled into a rhythm most would label as domestic. She had taken him to all her favorite haunts, and they had visited with her family, and he’d even gone off and done manly things with her brothers and the Steele boys.

  Rather than stay at her bungalow, they’d chosen to spend their nights under the stars at his campsite. At the end of every evening and beginning of every day, they practiced Yoga Nidra.

  He was the same man she’d fallen in love with, but different. The edge that had always sharpened his eyes and guided his reactions had smoothed out a bit. His laughter, along with his teasing, came more frequently, and he seemed more tolerant of crowds, though for only a few hours at a time.

  Only one dark mood had surfaced in their time together. They’d gone to Countryside Diner for breakfast one morning and been met with a waiting line. When Riley had tried to weave her way through the crowd to ask the hostess about the wait time, she’d caught her toe on something and body-slammed into a large, irritable man.

  Rather than accept her profuse apology, he decided to be a jerk, pushing her off him and telling her to watch it. Coen didn’t care for the man’s reaction.

  Screwing the cap back onto the water container, she retraced her steps to the campsite. Although no blood had been shed at the diner, the incident had put the edge back in Coen for several hours before she’d been able to smooth him out again.

  But Coen hadn’t experienced any night terrors, which meant far more to her than any slip back into ultra-territorial warrior.

  Bahh-ling.

  Riley dug her phone out of her back pocket and read a much-anticipated message from Maggie.

  Young told all to the authorities. Hathaway is in custody. Stop by later for the juicy deets.

  A pressure that Riley hadn’t realized she’d been carrying lifted from her chest. She couldn’t wait to tell Camilla.

  After recovering from her concussion, Camilla had returned to Costa Rica. Riley had tried to talk her friend into staying awhile longer, but she had important work to do back home.

  Impressed with the way she’d protected Timbroma subvolanum from foreign exploitation, her government had put her in charge of restoring Picanula, as it was locally known, back to the wild.

  It was an amazing opportunity for Camilla, and Riley couldn’t wait to visit sometime in the near future.

  Once she could smell the campfire, she lifted her attention from the ground to take in their home. They’d lived simply yet fully within these arbor walls. Although she’d enjoyed having a loving family her entire life, she’d never felt more cherished than when lying naked and sated in Coen’s arms.

  She would miss this place.

  Coen emerged from the tent, decked out in a muscle-defining T-shirt, crisp fatigue pants, and Army-issued boots. It was the first time she’d seen her warrior in his military gear. The sight finalized the moment in a way no planning or conversation could.

  She would miss him.

  Tears prickled her throat and eyes. This moment had been imminent, yet her awareness hadn’t made its arrival any easier to bear.

  When their eyes met, Riley saw the same understanding whirling in his gemstone eyes.

  “The uniform suits you.”

  His hand swept down his body as though he was relearning the texture of being a soldier again. “Feels good, though as an operator I’m more likely to be in my own clothes than an Army uniform.”

  “It helps to flip the switch in your mind, doesn’t it?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because that’s what seeing you in uniform just did for me. It’s all real now.”

  “Regrets?”

  “Not a single one.” Drawing in an unsteady breath, she forced lightness into her voice and efficiency into her movements as she added water to the kettle. “No dip in the stream this morning?”

  Silence whirled in the air around them, and she feared he’d pick up the thread of his previous thought. If he did, she would lose the hair-thin control she had on her emotions.

  Sensing her struggle, he teased, “Miss Insatiable kept me in bed too long.”

  “Can you blame me?” Somehow he appeared bigger and stronger than ever before, and all she wanted to do was crawl back into his arms. “Besides the obvious, there’s an added advantage of you not washing off my scent.”

  He moved closer. “What’s that?”

  Smiling, she said, “To ward off the competition.”

  All humor disappeared, and he cupped one side of her face. “There will be a lot of things for you to worry about, but that’s not going to be one of them. Understood?”

  One element of heaviness lift
ed from her chest and floated into the fire. She raised up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to the sensitive hollow beneath his ear and just under the jawline. “Understood.”

  Coen released their food bag from the tree, and she set about making their coffee. They spoke of the farm, her mom’s cooking and the greenhouse repairs, but gave their upcoming departure a wide berth.

  Until the chime on her watch filled the air.

  “Time to go,” she said in a thick voice.

  Coen nodded, and they spent the next several minutes tidying up the campsite.

  Riley, along with Britt and a few others, would return later and haul everything out. He didn’t like leaving her with his mess, but she’d insisted, saying she’d rather spend their time together doing other things than breaking camp.

  When they could delay the inevitable no longer, he slid his hand down Riley’s arm and wove his fingers with hers. “Before we rejoin the world, I want to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not running away.”

  Tears rimmed her eyes, and her smile wobbled. “But I did. On that first day. ”

  He lifted their clasped hands and kissed her knuckles. “You came back, again and again and again.”

  “Most people would not thank me for stalking them.”

  “Don’t you scientific types call it observation?”

  “That’s the polite term.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Why would I be?”

  “Leading a team for the first time can be intimidating.”

  Two evenings ago, Britt and Jonah had surprised their cousin with what she had later called a once-in-an-ethnobotanist’s-lifetime opportunity. She would participate in a multiyear research expedition to East-Central Africa to study plant uses along the Virunga Massif, a massive area that covered a chain of eight volcanoes, three countries, and three national parks.

  To his surprise, she hadn’t immediately accepted their offer, fearing the negative impact such a long-term assignment would have on their relationship. They had spent hours sitting by the campfire, talking through the logistics and the inevitable emotional toil. By the end of the evening, they had a solid plan in place, and Riley had texted her cousins with an all-caps “YES.”