Chapter 5
5
D-Day tried with all his might not to be affected by Helen…again…for the thousandth time or was that now in the millions?
He sat in the van anchoring her with his body, making sure nothing could jolt her again. He wouldn’t survive her falling across his lap like that again. He worked at being frozen, keeping his eyes front and center, but his problem was that six months hadn’t lessened her effect on him. He felt choked by it. When he was compelled against his will to turn his head to look at her, he got the full impact of her pale face, the illuminated blonde hair flowing wildly past her shoulders. Her skin looked incredibly smooth, tanned, and his gaze slid to her throat, then dove lower as rounded shapes filled out the yellow cotton, the gauzy fabric draping her muscled thighs.
She was still gorgeous in a way that kicked his ass every time. More striking than delicate. Everything about her was vibrant, and very headstrong, as evidenced when she’d stood up to him in a precarious position and gave him the finger without compunction. Smart enough and brave enough to follow his lead. His cheek had stung for a bit from the force she’d delivered that blow. Part of him felt like he deserved it, especially after the way he’d ghosted her following Buck’s wedding reception.
He frowned, dragging his gaze from her and staring at nothing in particular as he remembered every moment that had brought them here to this place and the danger they were all in. He hated how much risk associated with this op could fall on her, like when their worlds had clashed in the middle of nowhere jungle. What were the fucking odds?
So, this wasn’t about him and Helen, except for the fact that she was a security risk, and they had to lock that down. This was about nuclear triggers, dead Americans and Filipinos, and possibly a devastating environmental disaster if even one of those bombs went off.
The van jolted to a stop, and his hand tightened, then loosened from her waist. Zorro muscled the door open, and he and Buck were moving with his sister. Her eyes darted around, her face going a little pale under her tan. Just on the edge of their compound lay the dense, dangerous jungle and the elongated building, blackened windows, the sleek chopper tucked into one of the hangars.
She tripped, and almost fell, him and Buck keeping her upright. Without warning, Helen turned and glared at Bear. “You ripped my dress, you oaf.” She bent down and pulled at the hem, ripping the rest of it away with one savage pull. “I loved this dress. Now it’s ruined with this cloak-and-dagger shit.” She brandished the scrap of cloth at him. “Couldn’t you have just said, Hey, your brother wants to talk to you? I saw him at the camp with D-Day. I knew he was here. Why does this have to be so complicated?”
Bear’s impassive face gave away nothing, but there was just barely a sheen of humor in his dark eyes. The big man didn’t get knocked off course much. He was as solid as a mountain. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we love cloak and dagger shit as much as you love your dress.” He slid a side glance to Buck. “And we got word that you might argue. So, we were trying to be proactive in curbing your tendency for being…ah…difficult.”
Her glare narrowed in on Buck. “Seriously? My tendency to be difficult…” she bit out. “A phone call would have worked instead of practically kidnapping me at the restaurant and scaring the crap out of me.”
Buck flinched, his look of regret quick. “If you’d answered your phone, that might have worked, but we’re in a crunch here.” He set his hand on the small of her back and started her moving again. His voice was a low whisper. “Sorry we scared you, nugget.”
Another nickname, one more cute and tender. Buck told him that when he first saw Helen after her parents brought her home from the hospital, she gleamed, like a gold nugget. He started calling her that from her infancy but changed to hellion when she’d gotten older. It was apparent that Buck was unhappy about his sister being put in the middle of such a dangerous op.
He had no idea what Bailee wanted to talk to Helen about other than the fact that she had covered their asses, saved them from being unmasked, and scared the living shit out of him. He was sure Helen wouldn’t have said a word to anyone. But he understood Bailee’s caution. She didn’t know them or their team, just what she read in files regarding their past missions. The CIA was all about secrecy, and D-Day was fully aware and on board. He understood classified, and the saying “loose lips sink battleships” had been coined for a reason.
She looked adorably baffled for a moment, then scowled. “Dammit, I left it in my room.” She turned to look at D-Day, her scowl deepening. Her eyes accused him as if it was his fault. “I was distracted,” she growled.
They reached the door to the command center and Buck punched a code into the keypad above the doorknob, then marched her through, the hinges quiet as the metal door cut them off from the outside.
Most of the conversation died as they entered. Helen stopped, her gaze sliding around the warehouse. Crude tables were set up around the open space, a coffee service, military laptops, along with file boxes were stacked up on each other. Maps and other tactical data were pinned to the wall above communication equipment, and brown file folders with an official-looking emblem on them were scattered around the room. The lights above illuminated everything.
Voices resumed, phones ringing, the tap of fingers against keyboards, and printers shuttling out papers, military and civilian personnel manning the simple metal chairs pushed up to the portable tables in the center. To the left was a curtained alcove where bunks were lined up twenty deep. Fans whirred in the windows and a stuffy scent permeated the air.
She glanced at her brother. “Home sweet home?”
“There is nothing of home here, Miss Buckard, except the dedication and sacrifice of her patriots. Are you one of them?”
Helen stiffened at Bailee’s strong, firm voice as she strode forward, a woman clearly in charge of all this chaos. She inhaled, clearly insulted. “Are you saying that I would intentionally put my brother and his teammates in danger? I’m not some silly-headed tourist…what is your name, if that’s allowed.”
“Bailee.”
“Bailee. I’m a seasoned nurse who has been in plenty of war-torn and hostile countries working to save lives…all life to me is precious. Especially the lives of my countrymen, and in particular my brother, and D—his teammates. I’ve seen plenty of strife, degradation, and death. So can we bypass the snotty sarcasm, and veiled accusations to get to the reason why the Company brought me here?”
Bailee stared at her for a second, dropping the imperious act, inclining her head. She looked at Buck.
He shrugged. “I told you she wasn’t a pushover.”
The intelligence and the sass in Helen’s eyes were unmistakable. D-Day dropped his head to hide a smile. She was magnificent. “Fair enough. Your brother, D-Day, and Zorro.” She indicated the three men. “Are undercover to prevent a terrible and devastating disaster. I need to know if you said anything to your colleagues about any of them?”
“No. I did not. After D-Day made me slap him to protect their cover, I figured it was too important to reveal anything to anyone. Her hesitation and pained glance in his direction spoke too much volume to a woman who was as cagey and observant as Bailee. Bailee didn’t miss that look, and the speculation in her sharp eyes didn’t bode well for him. “I am well aware of what my brother and D-Day do for a living.”
“Okay, then it might be best for you to head back to the States and get out of this mix.”
Helen shook her head immediately. “No, that’s not possible. For one, my group is adamant about us remaining in our post regardless of our personal relationships. I would have to be severely ill or dead to go back to the US.”
D-Day’s gut clenched when Helen said the word “dead.” Every protective instinct in him rebelled against her statement. He agreed with Bailee.
“Besides. If I disappear after what happened between me and D-Day, don’t you think those warlords are going to get suspicious? Taer already was. He even offered to kill D-Day for me.”
Several of his teammates stiffened, their faces showing what they thought of that concept. “They can fucking try,” Gator said.
“Still, even with that possibility, I think it’s best if you leave.”
Helen lifted her chin. “And if I don’t? Are you going to detain me?”
“Helen—” Buck said, but she barreled right over him.
“If you think you can get away with violating my personal rights and my right to make a living at a job I choose, you’re mistaken. These people need us, and I intend to continue to help them.”
Bailee raised her brows at Helen’s firm tone and unmovable stance. “That poses a problem, Miss Buckard.”
“No, it doesn’t. Make me a NOC.” D-Day blew out a breath, tunneling his fingers through his hair, feeling as if she had knocked him upside the head with a lead pipe. He looked to Buck, sure the man would protest, but even though Buck looked angry, he didn’t say a word. “If I can find out any information about their organization or what they’re up to, I can pass it on to you.” D-Day swore softly under his breath, but she ignored him, talking over his obvious rejection of her proposal. She lifted her chin, and he hadn’t realized it was so stubborn. “I’d be valuable in the field, doing my job without any connection to the CIA. Taer already likes me, and it would be easy?—”
“Fucking no!” D-Day said, looming over her. “You’re out of your mind. These are fucking killers, and they won’t hesitate to murder you if they even think you’re part of US intelligence.” His teammates offered nods and grunts of understanding. Joker’s gaze shifted to D-Day, and D-Day was aware he was showing something that would garner speculation amongst his teammates, but he was beyond curbing his reaction. This was too vital.
The acronym for NOC stood for non-official cover, which meant NOCs had no overt connection to the US government, but that also meant they had none of the protections either, like diplomatic immunity. He was on loan to the CIA, but if he got into trouble, he had the skills to survive until his team came after him. Helen was defenseless.
She turned to look at him, her face impassive, her eyes hardening. “I don’t remember asking you for your opinion or for your permission.”
He slanted her an incredulous glance and took in the rigid set of her shoulders—so slim, so delicate, too often carrying a burden that would have crushed a lesser person. He thought of the burden that had broken her. She had lost colleagues, and the memory of her distress cut through him like a knife.
“Why don’t we continue this conversation over here,” Bailee said, shouldering her way in and taking Helen’s arm, giving D-Day a censoring look when he opened his mouth. Buck closed the space between them and dragged D-Day outside.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Buck growled.
“Me?” D-Day bit out, narrowing his gaze and pointing a finger at him. “What’s the matter with you! She’s your sister and you didn’t say a fucking thing!”
“She’s my sister and it’s killing me that she’s suggesting getting involved in this mission, but I learned a long time ago that Helen has a mind of her own. She’s a grown woman, and she makes her own decisions. I’ve had to let go, knowing that she’s going all over this dangerous globe administering to the sick and wounded. You have to get past this, D-Day. Any slip-up with her in the mix could prove to be a disaster.” There was no mistaking the fear and the pain in Buck’s voice.
D-Day swore under his breath, turned and hit the side of the building with the flat of his hand. “This is fucking madness.”
Joker came out of the building with a scowl on his face. “It’s a done deal. Helen is now a NOC, and we will have to work with her if she’s anywhere near those warlords.” He released a hard breath and looked at Buck. “How do you feel about this?”
Buck’s mouth tightened. “I hate it, LT, but as I was just telling D-Day, Helen cannot be swayed once she’s made up her mind. She’s been headstrong since birth. There’s a reason we call her hellion. So, I will work with her.”
“It’s not going to be too much of a distraction?”
“No, sir. I’ll admit that I have a need to protect my sister, but I also know that she’s going to do what she feels is best.”
Joker nodded. He then turned to D-Day. “Do you have a problem?”
“I fucking have a huge problem with this, but it appears that Helen has made her decision, and there’s not a fucking thing any of us can do about it.”
“So, in light of your obvious attachment to Buck’s sister, is continuing the mission a go for you?”
“Goddammit! Yes!” D-Day bit out furiously. He was caught up in his own anger over this whole situation, and to be honest he wasn’t sure he could stay focused. D-Day knew he was the only one who could pull off this undercover op, and there was no way he was going to leave Helen out to dry, not in this hostile environment. No matter what Buck said about her, he was pragmatic, but D-Day was frantic. Nothing could happen to this woman…fucking nothing. He would make damn sure with his life if necessary.
“And you can stay focused on this mission?”
For the second time, D-Day lied to his LT’s face. “Yes.”
“Okay, stay on your toes, and for fuck’s sake, keep your eye on Helen. I don’t care what she says, she’s vulnerable, defenseless, and out of her element. If she gets into trouble, you know what to do.”
Something eased in D-Day at Joker’s words. At least he understood and that made all the difference. It was clear he wasn’t going to order them to do anything. Made sense. Reluctant SEALs were loose cannons. Many things grounded them, but when it came to family—and that’s how D-Day felt about Buck and his family—all bets were off.
Helen came out of TOC, and throwing them glances, she followed Bear to the van. Getting inside, she met his eyes, and he met her gaze unflinchingly, his anger drawing in the nearly tangible instantaneous sparks of awareness between the two of them. As was the feverish heat and undeniable hunger Helen generated whenever she was near him. He met her direct, angry look and that deep intimate look that always unsettled him so effortlessly. Her mouth tightened as she closed the door, and Bear took off. D-Day’s hand curled into a fist, and the muscles in his arm bunched with tension. He wanted to pummel something…he wanted to talk to her…fuck her so hard and so deep it was a compulsion that he could barely restrain… Fuck, he needed a drink.
Joker had already gone back inside, but the guys filed out into the night seething with D-Day’s impotent fury and frustration by the entire situation, along with this uncontrollable attraction to her made everything all the more complicated.
“This is fucking nuts, Buck,” Blitz said. “Your sister is?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Buck growled.
“I was only going to say that she knows how to stand up to people. Like wow. What a powerhouse.”
“Why is that surprising? Her brother is a SEAL. That shit must run in the family,” Professor said.
“Tough western stock, for sure,” Gator said. “She’s in over her head, though.”
“Straight up. It could be a terrible disaster,” Professor agreed.
“I think she’s as brave as hell, and who says she can’t pull it off?”
“Shut the fuck up, Zorro,” D-Day growled getting into his face.
Surprised faces surrounded him. He understood why. He was never this aggressive with the team, but when it came to Helen, he wasn’t himself.
Zorro’s eyes narrowed. “I have my own opinion just like she does. Get out of my face, man.”
Something snapped in D-Day, something that had been simmering ever since high school. The need to hit back, to maim and regain control he had lost so shamefully, with humiliating damage. He swung at Zorro and coldcocked him on the jaw. Zorro stumbled back, his dark eyes narrowing. He lunged at D-Day, but Professor grabbed him just as Buck and Blitz restrained D-Day.
“That’s enough of that shit,” Buck ground out.
D-Day struggled until they let him go. “I need to let off some steam,” he growled, then headed toward the motorcycles parked near their other vehicles. He heard shouts behind him, but he ignored them. He jammed on the helmet. They wouldn’t say a word to Joker. Even now, they would cover for him. The guilt at hitting one of his teammates curled through him, making him choke even more on his own fury, and shame. He started the bike and roared out of the compound, trying to outrun all those feelings settling in his gut, his chest, and his heart. His mind struggled with all that horrible, unresolved pain, hurt, and betrayal. His trust had been shattered, and it had scarred him deep inside.
He caught up to the van, and without thought, he followed it, nothing but a mass of jumbled-up, tangled-up emotions…and needs. So many needs, he was swamped by them.
He idled down the block from the van as it dropped Helen close to the hospital, a neat little congregation of white homes. All the windows were dark, and he waited until Bear pulled away and the taillights of the van disappeared into the dark night, until a light flickered on in one of the windows.
Using his heel, he folded down the kickstand, turned off the bike, and pocketed the key. Without considering the consequences of what he was about to do, his compulsion and fury driving him, he slipped inside the building and headed toward the room with the light.
When he got there, he knocked, trying not to bang on the door with his fist like he wanted to do, but there were people here who knew him as Graham Butler, and he couldn’t blow that cover.
The door opened, silhouetting Helen in the light. She gasped softly, her whole body visibly softening, leaning toward him as if the same compulsion warred inside of her. She pulled him inside and closed and locked the door behind her, leaning against the panel.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, dressed in nothing but a silky robe. “Are you crazy? If one of my colleagues sees you it could blow your cover.”
“I’m aware of that,” he growled, jamming his hands on his hips and summoning his most intimidating scowl. “But I came here because I want you to fucking tell Bailee Thunderhawk that you’ve changed your mind, then pack your damn bags and get the fuck out of here.”
“And what excuse am I supposed to give her?”
“That you lost your freaking mind and have come to your senses.”
She ignored his sarcasm, and that direct, probing gaze gave him no quarter.
“No.”
Her one-word response made him take a furious step forward, slowly closing the distance between them until he was looming in front of her. The little witch was defying utter common sense. He flattened his hands against the door on either side of her shoulders, trapping her against hardwood and his taut, unyielding body. His mouth twisted in fury. “You don’t know what the goddamn you’re talking about. Do you know what I’ve seen, what I’ve experienced, what I’ve done while on this job?” he said through gritted teeth. Knowing how tough and obstinate she was, he wasn’t at all gentle with her, determined to inject a bit of uncertainty into that confidence of hers so she’d see it his way. “It would give you nightmares, Helen. Those men…they’re monsters, then there’s the unyielding, insidious jungle with other fucking unseen danger everywhere.”
Instead of shrinking back from the bite in his tone, she lifted that stubborn, defiant chin of hers. “No, D-Day. What I have seen through my work already gives me nightmares. I’m not just some babe in the jungle. I’m an RN, a nurse with purpose. I will not abandon these people who I’ve sworn to give aid to. I will not, no matter how angry or how little you believe in me at this moment, give in to fear and intimidation.”
Inhaling jaggedly, he dropped his head, his voice was an anguished rasp, “Goddammit, Helen. Don’t you know that if anything happens to you…I can’t live—” his words choked off as he swallowed hard against the soft exhalation of pain.
Her hand stroked along his rigid jaw. “Then you know how I feel, Drew.” Her tone was just as rigid, just as anguished. “Nothing is ever guaranteed. We have to take what we can while we can.” She gasped softly, and there was so much desperation in that one small sound, so much fire, it was like a knife in his chest. “Oh, Drew, I’ve missed you so much I can barely stand it. I wanted to talk to you that night. I’m sorry for what I did. But you just drive me insane, and I can’t seem to catch my breath or think straight when I’m near you.”
Her arms went around him, and she choked out his name, then pressed against him, silently pleading with him, pleading with her body—and any connection he had with reason shattered into a thousand pieces. Coming here had been dangerous. There was too much old familiarity between them, too much need, and it would be too easy—fuck, so easy to just let it happen.
Trying to regain some control, he held her with every ounce of strength he had, fighting for every breath. Somehow, he had to put the brakes on. Somehow.
But he was really learning the hard way that Helen wouldn’t be deterred. She cupped him, squeezing his tight, aching balls, then caressing his hard-as-nails dick, her hand doing things that were meant to break a man’s resolve, and she broke him so good, so fucking good.
His growl was her only warning as he captured her mouth with his. Her lips parted as she sucked in a quick, moaning breath, and he shoved his fingers into her hair and held her head in his hands, keeping her right where he needed her as he ravaged her lips, a demanding, open-mouthed, and desperate kiss.
Fire pooled in his belly and lower, his anger mingling with an undeniable need to possess her in every way imaginable. She didn’t resist him as he continued to consume her the same way he wanted to ravish her body, with his mouth, teeth, and tongue, and the craving for her grew out of his control, six months of ravenous heat and hunger coalescing into this moment.
His face contorting from the surge of desire, he caught her around the hips, welding her roughly against him. He needed this…for so long…for a lifetime—the heat of her, the weight of her. Her. He needed her.
Helen made another low sound, then she inhaled raggedly and pulled herself up against his hard-as-granite dick. It had grown as he’d driven over here, fueled by anger and memories of how they were together, how she met and matched his desire. It strained against the placket of his jeans and zipper with a throbbing, aching need. He grasped her behind the knee, dragging her leg around his hip. With one twisting motion, his hard heat was flush against her naked core. Grasping her buttocks, the silk of her robe slippery in his hands, he thrust against her again and again, a low groan wrenched from him as she moved with him, riding him, riding the hard thick ridge jammed against her.
But that wasn’t enough. D-Day nearly went ballistic, certain he would explode if he didn’t get inside her.
She shuddered and moaned, her voice breaking on a low sob of relief. “Drew. Oh God. Don’t stop. Please—don’t stop.” She moved against him again, and D-Day tightened his hold even more, unable to stop as he involuntarily responded. Body to body, heat to heat, and as always, there was no turning back.