by Zoe Dawson
The sound of men talking, searching, coming through the apartments behind them and down the hall was narrowing their options pretty fast.
He glanced toward the window, but they were still five floors up and that fire escape would be once again noisy and dangerous. He dismissed the idea of taking it as a route.
“Give me the gun,” she said.
He turned to look at her. “What?”
“Give me the gun and I’ll buy us some time.”
“We’re not splitting up.”
“Yes, we have to. I’ll slow them down. You find us a way out. It’s the only way. We’re running blind—el Ajeer—I want to…”
“What?”
“He’s the one who killed my father. I would never forget that voice. I want to—”
“No.” He holstered the HK and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Kinley, you can’t go after him. We’re outnumbered and outgunned right now. Escape is what we’re after. Believe me, if it wasn’t for the fact that we need absolute secrecy here, I’d be all for going after him right now. But we can’t. Promise me you’re not snowing me here.”
She bit her lip and looked away, her face showing her struggle with her emotions. “He killed my father and scarred me. I have a right—”
“I’m not arguing that point. You do. You have the right, but in this situation, we have to let him go. It’s about the mission and it’s far from complete. Daniel died for it and we can’t let his death be in vain.”
“We shouldn’t have left him, Beau.” She stood there looking so upset, and he had to be tough.
“I know. A SEAL never leaves a man behind, ever. We’re going to make sure he’s taken care of. I promise. We had no choice. The DEA will take care of their own. I guarantee you. We’ll get word to them as soon as we’re out of this. But you have to stay focused on getting away, not going after el Ajeer. Agreed?”
When she didn’t answer, he got a little frantic and had just decided to throw her over his shoulder and hightail it out of there, blind or not, when she said, “Yes. Agreed.”
He had to rely on the trust they’d built up. She was tough enough to take on the terrorist, but not enough to wade through God knew how many tangos he brought with him.
“Hurry, Beau. Find us a way out.”
“I’ll be back. Stay here unless you have to move, then only move forward. If they hem you in…” He handed her the HK.
“Okay, I’ll be careful. Go.”
The hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his life was move away from her. She was being baptized in the combat fire and his only boost was knowing that she could handle it. Had handled it.
He skirted some debris and kept moving until he dead-ended and had to move into the hall. Just as he breached the door, he saw a shadow moving toward him. He ducked back into the room. They’d never make it that way. They were fanning out too much, and pretty soon, the two of them would be trapped. He backed into the room some more and the floor went out from under him. Windmilling his arms and throwing himself forward was the only thing that saved him.
Breathing hard, he turned to find a hole in the floor that revealed another room below him. It was a drop, but he spied a mattress. Something to break their fall. At this point it was their only hope.
Without thinking about the ramification of a broken ankle or worse, he rapidly made his way back to where he’d left Kinley.
The sound of the HK discharging into the semi-quiet of the apartment complex supercharged him and he swore, increasing his speed.
When he got close to where she was, he already had his Ka-Bar out and ready. Two guys were moving around to cut her off from him.
Oh, hell, no.
He didn’t hesitate and ran full force into the two men. He made quick work with the knife and the guy was down before he could even draw his next breath and Beau was grappling with the other. The second guy brought his gun up and Beau jerked his hand, shoving it over his head. The gun discharged with a suppressed load and plaster and debris rained from the ceiling.
Beau jammed the knife into the guy’s throat and jumped back as he fell. Snatching up the man’s weapon, he darted into the room where Kinley was focused on returning fire. Bullets sprayed into the walls around them.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. “I found a way out.”
She squeezed off another round as he dragged her through the door. They ran full out until they reached the room where he’d found the hole. She stopped and looked at him, her puzzled face flushed. “Where?”
He pointed down. She looked down then back up at him. “We’re jumping?”
“Only way, ma belle,” he said, crouching down and setting his hands on the lip of the opening. “I’ll go first.”
She immediately nodded, her head swiveling toward the door. “They’re coming.”
With a muttered oath, his hands tightening on a broken beam, he swung free and for a moment, hung suspended in midair. Then there was a cracking, breaking sound above him. The wood and plaster beneath his fingers broke away and he was falling. He bent his knees and rolled as the floor rushed up to greet him. After many HALO jumps, this was a piece of cake.
“Beau, catch,” she said as she dropped the weapon down to him. He watched as she swung over the lip. A man materialized out of nowhere and reached down to grab her wrist. Beau already had the suppressed weapon up and pointed, pulling off a round. It barely made a sound. The guy fell and hit Kinley. As Beau sidestepped the hurtling body, Kinley dangled for a moment, then she let go. Beau watched her as she fell, never taking his eyes off the prize.
She dropped into his arms and he set her on her feet and gave her back the HK. Together they headed for the hallway. It would take a moment for them to figure out where they had gone.
With Kinley behind him, they raced down the hall, but Beau brought her up short. Two men were standing guard at the head of the stairs. “Wait here,” he whispered. He snuck up behind one and grabbed him around the neck. Within a heartbeat he brought up the suppressed weapon and put two slugs into the guy’s buddy, then one into the temple of guy he held, pulling off another head shot before the guy hit the ground. He looked down the stairs and swore. Two more tangos. Taking aim, Beau popped both of them.
They raced down four flights, bringing them back to the crazy, backlit, neon-haired party that was in full swing. Threading their way through the dancers, Beau’s hand was tight around Kinley’s. He could feel her other hand twisted in the fabric of his shirt.
This time Beau used the press of bodies and the chaos to make it to the outside stairs. Beau dragged her into the darkness, and it swallowed them up.
Using the parking entrance to the hotel, they made their way silently across the concrete. The dim, sparse lights shone down on her, lining her profile, softening her face and turning her skin into a silken wash of rose and pale peach.
Her eyes were dark, the downward cast of her gaze making it hard to figure out her mood. She was so quiet.
Too quiet.
Reaching the bank of elevators, they slipped inside. Beau breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled her against him. She cuddled him, setting her face into the hollow of his neck and wrapping her arms around his waist. They had gotten away clean. He was sure of it. Only the dead guys had learned Kinley’s name. After a shower, rest and food, they were going to lie low until they discovered the doctor’s name. Beau knew exactly where to look first.
They both looked worse for wear. Sweaty, dirty, and one of the straps on her form-fitting top had broken and hung over her breast.
She’d wanted to go after el Ajeer. He wasn’t sure if he was impressed with her guts or terrified of them.
What had happened to her when she was sixteen had destroyed her world. It was understandable that she would want to make sure the man who had shattered it paid. Having to tell her no hurt because he hurt for her. He didn’t have the words to console her over the fact that el Ajeer was still breathing.
Revenge wasn’t for the
faint of heart and often, even after thinking about it and plotting it, the result didn’t really satisfy, either. This wasn’t about getting el Ajeer. It was about mentally figuring it out and either letting it go or letting it eat you alive. He would rather she found a way to let it go. It had already taken a big chunk out of her.
He knew about letting something eat you alive. He thought about his most recent stint in Afghanistan for NCIS. He hadn’t gotten there in time to save the agent they’d sent him after. He had been so close, but the guy had been beheaded just as Beau had infiltrated the compound.
He’d done the next best thing, a snatch-and-grab of the warlord who probably hadn’t ever heard of NCIS before he’d killed one of its agents. He wouldn’t ever forget what it stood for now.
When they reached their floor, Beau was sure to check both ways. No one around. They exited the elevator and were soon inside the suite. He opened the doors onto the balcony to let the moonlight and the sounds of the city night in.
When he turned, she was standing against the wall next to the entrance exactly where he’d left her.
He unclipped the empty holster from his lower back and set it and the gun he’d taken on one of the tables in the living room as he passed it.
“I’m going to run a shower and we’re going to get cleaned up.”
She didn’t respond as he went into the bathroom and started the water. As steam filled the room, he took a moment to wash the grime and blood off his hands and arms. He pulled his shirt over his head and shucked out of the slacks.
She came into the room and silently removed her clothes, slipping into the shower. He followed her and they silently washed each other until they were clean. Toweling dry, she wrapped the terry around her with a strong grip.
She put her hand out as he got close. “I need to…process.”
He took a step closer and she said, more firmly, “No. Don’t touch me. I can’t think when you touch me.”
“There’s no need to think right now, Kinley. We’ll get some sleep and it’ll be better.”
Kinley tilted her head back against the wall, exposing the slender column of her throat, and he felt the heat of wanting her sparking deep inside him.
Mr. One-night Stand.
Mr. Temporary.
Mr. Never Engage His Heart.
Mr. Complete Dumbass.
He knew himself. He knew what this meant, and getting his mind wrapped around what he had stupidly allowed himself to do was like a sledgehammer to his heart.
She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and he’d been chasing her his whole life.
“No. I’ve got to think about it, about Daniel and el Ajeer. All of it. Because it’s too important to dismiss it.”
He knew what it was to go that route. He knew what it was like. He’d seen it. He’d felt it. He’d been there, living in the badlands.
But he’d never lost a family member. That was…
Inconsolable.
She started to tremble all over as she clenched her fists. He saw it in her shoulders and in the way she wrapped her arms around herself, like she was trying to hold all the pieces in place.
Before the first sob broke free from her lips, he was there. As she folded in on herself, he was holding her against him.
“No,” she said. “Don’t touch me.”
She was still backed up against the wall, her body so stiff, and yet shaking—everywhere, all over.
“D-don’t,” she repeated, not looking at him, keeping her hand over her face.
“Kinley,” he said, wanting to help her and yet feeling so helpless.
“No.” Another sob broke free, and then another, and she dropped her hand, looking at him, all of it, everything awful that had happened tonight.
He moved in closer. This was going to hell right now, and fast, but there wasn’t any way to stop it.
Tears ran down her face, and inch by inch, he felt her fall to pieces and begin to skim down the wall, her knees buckling. He held on and the reaction he was expecting happened.
She sobbed and pushed at him, but he didn’t let go. Then she balled up her fist and hit him. He knew this was going to happen and he let it. It was what had to happen, the flash of fear and anger and anguish in her eyes, the tension holding her on the edge of the void. Hell, if that’s what she needed, he’d let her vent again against his resilient muscles.
Everything was coming to a head, getting ready to demolish her the hard way, like a wrecking ball.
“You bastard. Why did you stop me?”
He didn’t say anything, just let her vent.
He kept her backed up against the wall and he didn’t have a regret in the world about using his superior strength against her.
She shoved at his chest. Ever since he’d laid eyes on her, he’d been locked on her like a friggin’ tractor beam. He wasn’t going to leave her alone like she wanted. She was going to a dark place and she needed him. He was going to be there every step of the way. Dammit. Whether she liked it or not, he was freaking staying.
“I was so scared…”
He had his hands on her waist, holding on to her, but she wasn’t struggling to get him to let her go. She was struggling with that terrible dark well inside her, trying to make sense of it all, and she was struggling with herself far more than she was struggling with him. She was hitting him, yeah, but she was the one who was hurting. Oh, man, she was hurting bad.
She twisted against him, but not to get away, just to twist and writhe and ache with the pain.
He’d lived this, breathed this for eight years. He knew about how crap went down and how strongly it could affect someone. He knew how to find anything, complete any mission with a map, compass, weapon and target. Didn’t matter how complex, how many countries he had to travel, how many enemies he had to neutralize, he knew how to make it work and get it done.
He knew what she was experiencing because through those countries, enemies and missions, he’d experienced the same things. He recognized them in her because they were also trapped in him. Process his ass. You didn’t process this, you rolled over it and crushed it, let it mold you and make you stronger because that’s what it took to get the job done.
So, he knew what to do. He knew how to save her.
All he had was himself to offer to give her comfort and something to hang onto.
All in.
Just him.
He pressed closer to her and lowered his head to hers, resting his forehead on her brow, and he let her rant at him, let her vent her anger and her pain, let her pound on his chest until she was clutching his shirt in her hands and just holding on.
“Beau…” she whispered his name, burying her face in the curve of his neck. “Oh, Beau.”
“That’s right, Kinley. I’m here. Completely present. You don’t have to tell me what you need.”
He kissed the top of her head, let his lips slide over the silken strands of her hair—and he pulled her closer.
“Beau…” She gripped him tighter, buried herself deeper, clinging to him. “Beau. Oh, Beau.” She loosened her hold on his shirt, and her arms came up and around his neck.
Yeah, that was right—and so were the tears. She wasn’t sobbing. She was just crying silently, nearly stock-still in his arms now. He felt the wetness on his neck, and it broke his heart. God, life could be so hard, more than a person could handle.
And yet, it had to be borne every day, in every way, over and over again until the end, and if a guy was lucky, every now and then he’d end up with a complicated woman in his arms, somebody who could turn him inside out.
Something he’d been missing for a long, long time. He hadn’t really realized it until just this second.
Yeah, he was a bona fide, freaking amazing genius.
These experiences were what made life worthwhile, and she was the best freaking teacher he’d ever had.
“Kinley, sugar.” He spoke her name, grounding her with it, bringing her back to him.
She slid her arms farther around his neck, and he kissed her cheek.
“I’m here, cher. It’s all you need, ma belle. Take what you need,” he whispered in her ear and kissed her again, and she softened against him.
Comfort came in many forms and sex was just one of them, but if that’s what she needed, wanted, he would comply. He wanted to make love with her, to ease her pain, to remind her there was life, always, the flame of it burning deep inside, to give her pleasure and ease her mind.
Yeah, he was so giving.
He wanted to take her so sweetly, to make her come apart in his arms, to make her his. He wanted to come so deep inside her, to claim her.
He opened his mouth on her neck and slid one hand down over the curve of her hip to pull her closer, to bring her up against him, and she turned her face into his neck and softly brushed her lips across the skin she’d made wet with her tears.
It was enough.
He kissed her neck, using his teeth so gently, licking her with his tongue and then sliding his mouth to hers and kissing her deep, angling his head to get more of her. Inch by inch, he hiked the towel up over her ass, giving himself the contact he needed. When he had the towel up around her waist, he slid his hand down over bare skin, over the softest skin he’d ever touched, over the perfect curves of her backside.
He needed the distraction, because his heart was getting more and more wrapped around her. The taste of her, the way she held onto him, the way she looked at him, telling him how much his comfort meant to her.
A man could freaking lose his mind from this.
Chapter Thirteen
To know how amazing it was to feel alive made his heart drop like a stone. Free fall without a parachute.
His eyes never left hers, wrapping his free arm around her thighs to steady her.
Moonlight caressed bare skin and the soft curls between her legs. Leaning forward, he pressed his fingers to the hot center of her core, and he teased her, pushed her, felt her softly grind her hips against him and burrow her fingers through his wet hair.
