Rogue Soldier (5 page)

“Okay?” He raised a dark eyebrow and came up on his elbow.

The tent really was small. As hard as she tried, she couldn't keep their bodies from touching. She watched his head lower as if it was happening to
somebody else. His lips, warm and soft, brushed over hers and left them tingling.

Not
that
okay, she wanted to say, but before she could, he leaned in and nuzzled the crook of her neck, gently scraping the beginning of his beard over the second most erogenous spot on her body. Heat and need flooded her in an instant, and she cursed him for knowing her so well yet shivered in delight as he kept up the small rubbing movements.

He did not fight fair, she thought in a haze as moisture gathered between her thighs. Every cell of her body remembered him and welcomed him back, singing the Hallelujah Chorus. He knew exactly what drove her crazy and he was merciless in his pursuit of her capitulation. He went for her weakness and exploited it to full measure.

A soft sound escaped her throat, and he had the gall to chuckle against her heated skin. Then he dragged his lips back to hers and took them fully this time.

A second of pleasure. It was no great sin, was it? Not when it might be the last they had with weapons smugglers waiting for them ahead and wolves and the CIA searching to take them down. Just one unreasonable moment of bliss. If there was a reason why she should deny herself that, it escaped her now.

She sank into the feel of him, floating on an invisible tide. If she had had any questions over the
years whether the blinding heat between them had been just an exaggeration of her memory, she had her answer now. It was there, all there, in its full power as if not a day had passed since they'd lain in each other's arms exhausted from passion.

There had never been another man like him for her, and damn his hide, she was pretty sure there never would be again.

She drank in his familiar taste, his familiar scent coming home to her nostrils, invading her body as his presence was invading her thoughts and his tongue was doing its best to invade her own. She was sure that's what it was to him, too. No more—an invasion. Mike McNair liked to conquer. He'd had quite a reputation when she'd met him. And, like a fool, she'd believed that all had changed when they'd fallen in love. If he'd ever loved her at all.

The pain of it, the shame of her humiliation burned her eyes as she pushed him away. “No.” She passed the single word through her sensitized lips.

“I'm sorry,” he said again.

It irritated her to see that he truly was, and that he was as shaken by the kiss as she. She reached to gather the old anger, but it slipped from her fingers. “How long are we going to torture each other like this?”

“I don't know.” He shook his head as if to shake off some spell. “I don't think I can let you go.”

Irritation filled her again. She liked the feeling; it helped her resistance. “You had no trouble letting me go for the past three years.”

Silence stretched between them.

“At the beginning, I was sure you would come back. I was mad at you for jumping to conclusions, hurt that you didn't trust me. I was too damn proud to go begging after someone when I hadn't done anything wrong.”

She could see the truth of it in his eyes. Damn. Had she been so stupid?

“All the stories about you, I'd heard dozens like that.” She offered her feeble excuse.

“Not after we met.” He shook his head. “If you'd listened…”

No, she hadn't been in a receptive state. She'd gone to him to chew him out in the first place, to yell and rage at him for carrying her out of the swamp and ending her SF career before it started. The tramps at the hotel had pushed her over the edge. There was no coming back after that, no seeing reason.

She'd been one of five women, provisional trainees, allowed in the Special Forces training because of their outstanding record in the army. The gender-requirement policy set by Congress and the secretary of defense in 1994 excluded women from combat billets in the military. There were no women in SF nor were there any female SEALs.

After 9/11, however, it became clear that the country needed these special military groups more than ever. There had been some support for inclusion of women as a way to increase numbers, and a provisional program was started by Special Forces and kept quiet. It was little more than a test. There had been no promises for inclusion even if the five women allowed into training passed the rigorous requirements. The powers that be just wanted to know if it could be done.

It couldn't. One of the female recruits had gotten injured two months into training and had to drop out. Another left soon after, unable to stand up to the psychological strain. One got kicked out for fraternizing with a superior officer. One failed the explosives exam. Tessa had lasted the longest.

She hated to fail, and in this case it felt like she'd failed not only herself but her gender.

She'd been so stupid. She should never have trusted Mike. To carry on a clandestine relationship with him had been insane enough, considering that kind of thing was strictly forbidden. And with reason. When he'd seen her in the swamp he'd been too attached, too emotional. Two other trainees had gone by her by then. Both had understood that she did not want their help. Neither had forced it on her. Mike, however, had not taken no for an answer.

Failing the training half broke her. Walking in on
Mike's betrayal in that hotel room, after she'd gotten out of the hospital, had finished the job.

He was watching her closely now. “If I could undo that day, I would, believe me. I hadn't realized what a big deal that was to you. To me it was a misunderstanding. I figured I would explain and we'd make jokes about Shorty's sexual appetites. I never for a moment thought you'd up and leave.”

“You could have come after me,” she said, unwilling to fully accept blame.

“I was sure you'd come back. I was an idiot. By the time I figured out you were gone for good, I was out of the country on a mission. When I came back, you were deployed.”

“There were other things that didn't work between us. The drinking scared me, too.”

He looked surprised for a moment, then the expression slid off his face. “Because of your father?”

She nodded.

“We weren't alcoholics for heaven's sake. We had some good times. We drank. That's what guys do when they're on leave. We were just a bunch of dumb-asses trying to outdo each other in whatever ways we could.”

He was right. She knew he was. She didn't want to talk anymore about it, saw no sense in dredging up the past. She said nothing.

“How can you pretend it's over? You can't tell me
you don't feel something. Some of what we had is still there.”

Yes. Her body still hummed with the power of his kiss. “It's not enough,” she said.

“I'm not giving up.” Determination filled his eyes.

“Fair warning.” She nodded. “But this time I'm not giving in.”

He blew out the candle, and she could hear the sleeping bags rustle as he lay on his back. “You drive me crazy.”

“See?” She seized on his words. “It shouldn't be like that. When a relationship is meant to be, it should be—” she searched for the right words.

“Nice and easy?”

“I'm pretty sure that's a hair-color brand.” She rolled her eyes in the darkness. “But easier, yes.”

“Why?” He wouldn't let it go. “What's wrong with difficult, as long as it's worth fighting for?”

“You can talk your way out of anything.” She huffed, frustrated.

“It's just one of my many special skills,” he said in a suggestive tone.

“And you never can stay serious long enough.” But she couldn't help a smile.

God, she had missed him.

“How is Grandpa Fergus?”

He didn't respond at first. “Doing good now.”

“Now?”

“He had some trouble with cancer, but he beat it. We all knew he would. He's way too stubborn to admit defeat.”

“Jeez, who does that remind me of?” she joked, but the news shook her, although she'd only met the old man once. He was a real character, that one.

Mike used to entertain her with his grandfather's outrageous highland tales during the endless hours of guard duty they'd pulled together.

Snow fell on the tent above them, the crystals frozen enough to make a sound.

They listened to that and the wind. Her mind ran through the past as Mike lay still next to her. He was probably mulling over whatever X-rated thoughts he usually entertained himself with at bedtime.

“My back is hanging out of the cover,” he said after a while, justifying her suspicions.

“You just want to get closer.”

“If I get sick, I'm not going to be much help to you. If you have no pity in your heart for me, at least consider the importance of our mission.”

The man would not quit. Might as well give him a snuggle if he was willing to be content with it. God knew, she had little resistance should he set his mind to something more.

“Come closer, then,” she said.

He did, snug against her back, his heat immediately spreading through her body. “Brings back some memories, doesn't it?” he whispered near her ear, his hot breath playing with her hair.

A quick succession of pictures flashed into her mind of the last time they had made love. He'd made her want him until she'd lost all thought of caution. He'd been gentle and sweet, humming with barely restrained passion as he made sure she was ready, touching her body with awe and reverence that had turned her to mush inside.

“I prefer not to dwell on the past,” she said, and ignored her body, which demanded a return trip to the happy place.

Heat spread between her thighs as she remembered him parting them, the way she'd caught her breath as he'd settled over her. They'd had to be quiet. There were men sleeping in tents all around them, two to a tent. She'd reached up to link her fingers together behind his head and pulled him down for a kiss. He swallowed her moan when he entered her. He'd been infuriatingly slow, careful not to shake the tent, not to make the slightest noise.

He'd been careful but thorough. He had made her his that night, in every way possible, and if she'd had an ounce of energy left, she would have begged for more. She hadn't realized back then just how danger
ous that was, to give herself so fully, to open herself up to so much possible pain.

She cleared her mind. “I don't remember much. I haven't thought about us in a long time.”

Mike ran a hand down her arm. “You know what they say. Those who can't remember history are bound to repeat it.”

“There'll be no repeating of anything. Period.” She willed her body to cool.

He put his arm around her and pulled her tight against him, ignoring her warning, always taking more than she was prepared to give.

“That hand better be in the exact same spot when I wake up in the morning.” She had to draw the line somewhere, show him he wasn't fooling her one bit. “Move it an inch and lose it.”

She couldn't let him know what a pushover she really was.

 

H
IS MEN WERE
three days behind. It made him nervous. The Boss switched his phone to voice mail, not wanting to listen to another scathing call from Tsernyakov. The man was not one to cross, nor were the Chechens, the final destination for the cargo.

He had to make sure to leave happy customers behind. He didn't need those kinds of people trying to track him down.

The delay wasn't his fault. He'd done what he could. He couldn't very well predict the plane crash. And there was no time to send in an extraction team. The alarm had been sounded by then, the area under extensive search. The best he could do was plant enough false information to make sure that the search centered on the stretch of land between the pipeline and the Canadian border.

Did Tsernyakov appreciate how risky that was? Did he thank him for sticking his neck out? Of course not. The bastard was frothing at the mouth, enraged about the delay, tossing around threats like snowballs.

The Boss kicked off his shoes and lay back on the bed, crossed an arm over his eyes.

He had other things to worry about besides being late—the witnesses. Two! The thought filled him with cold fear alternating with anger. He had hoped Alaska or the CIA would take care of them. He'd made sure they were considered suspects, had made a damned good case, but couldn't push beyond that. Not without raising suspicions.

He had missed his chance to take them out at the edge of the woods, cursed himself for that mistake still. There was no telling what his men had discussed in front of the woman, and whatever she knew she'd probably told McNair. Being the smart-ass he was, who knew what McNair had put together by now.

Damn. He let out his breath, willing himself to sleep, too wired to actually do it. Why the hell did McNair have to get involved? Never did know when to stay the hell out of everybody else's business. This was the second time the man had come close to ruining one of his deals. The first time he'd let the guy live. Big mistake. This time he wouldn't be so generous.

He opened his eyes and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Tsernyakov was expecting a status report in another four hours. The bastard was a control freak, on the dangerous side of pushy.

The Boss closed his eyes again, wishing the whole thing to be over. He'd brought enough to the table, earned his fee. He'd been the one to know the location of the warheads, the one with necessary contacts to defeat security. But he couldn't use his influence to do more. Anything else that had to be done, he had to do on his own. There must be no more links leading to him.

He didn't think of it as murder. He'd killed before, for the good of his country. He could certainly do it again, now that his own future hung in the balance.