Chapter 15
15
Helen woke before dawn, aware that D-Day wasn’t beside her. She opened her eyes and turned her head to find him standing near the bed. He was shirtless, but dressed in his camo pants and boots, a gun belt low and snug around his hips. He was checking his sidearm, the muscles in his forearms and biceps flexing with his every move.
“You didn’t sleep last night, did you?”
He just grunted, and she sighed. “D-Day…”
“Not letting my guard down around you,” he growled, completely in warrior-wolf mode.
On top of being so devastatingly handsome, he was her highly skilled, ruthless, and protective guardian in almost full battle gear.
Their conversation last night set the tone between them. D-Day had effectively put time on hold. And Helen refused to think about where she was going to be or what she was going to be doing once she’d finished her assignment with Doctors for the World.
But she was never going to forget how awesome, how magnificent he was through all of this. He was a man to die for —and with a jolt, she realized that she would give up her life for him in a heartbeat.
There wasn’t a moment between them that she didn’t cherish, even the quiet moments with him were as charged as the disagreements and their physical interactions.
Without even looking at her, and so aware of his surroundings, he shifted slightly. “You keep looking at me like that, darlin’ and I’m going to show you how a SEAL goes into an intimate battle,” he said, his voice husky.
“Ooh,” she whispered. “Troops in contact, and you have the most perfect weapon.” Her gaze dipped below his belt. “Yes, please, bring the fire.”
He chuckled and snapped his gun into the holster. He didn’t quite give her a sidelong glance, he didn’t turn his head enough for that, but she still felt engulfed in his charismatic presence, and the combination of his shaggy hair curling on the ends, his profile with that coating of golden beard stubble, his oh-so-broad shoulders, wide, muscled chest, unbelievable torso with those heavily delineated abs, and that sexy, pronounced Adonis belt were enough to melt every bone in her body and turn her into a puddle.
“You are quite a magnificent man, Andrew Nolan, and I don’t mean just that body of yours.”
She got out of bed, grabbed a gray T-shirt on the floor and dropped it over her naked body as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. His eyes were warm and…humble. Helen stared up at him, never expecting to see such an emotion on his face. Yet it was in his eyes, in his expression as if he was undeserving, and a lump formed in her throat.
She covered his hands, gently pushing them away from the buttons. With tender care, she did up each one, showing him, by this small act, that she meant every word she said. The corner of his mouth lifted, and she smiled at him, turning and reaching for the tactical vest. She went to lift it and made a soft oof sound. “For the love of God, that’s freaking heavy.” She turned and made a face at him. “Seriously?”
He chuckled, and had the nerve to reach past her, with one hand, lift the vest easily, slide it over his head, and smooth down the Velcro.
She grabbed the edges of that vest and brought that hard man close. “Show off,” she murmured.
He smiled, his expression sobering as he dropped his head, then looked up, a directness in his gaze that was open and honest. “Once we leave this room, it’s going to get ugly and dangerous, darlin’. You will do exactly as I say exactly when I say it. Don’t hesitate, and don’t think. Just move.”
She stiffened to attention and saluted. “Yes, sir.”
He shook his head with a wry, indulgent expression, tapped the pistol grip, and said, “You’ll need to be ready to shoot?”
She nodded, her stomach taking a nosedive, clenching hard as her heartbeat accelerated and adrenaline shot into her bloodstream. She eyed the firearm. “I’ll make you and Buck proud.”
He laughed, scoffing softly. “Of course, you will. That doesn’t surprise me.”
Shifting his head, he stared at her, a sudden tautness in his face, the muscles along his jaw bunched. When he finally spoke, there was a gruff catch in his voice. “The harder question is how do you feel about killing someone?”
The gruffness in his voice made Helen’s heart contract, and she clenched her jaw against the sudden ache. A charged silence settled over them, and he bent his head, his face still taut. She took a hard breath, everything that she had ever done was always about administering to the weak, sick, and wounded. Her stomach heaved at the thought of taking a life when she had vowed to preserve it. Taking her hand, he carefully aligned palm against palm, then just as carefully, laced his fingers through hers. She lifted her chin, realizing that right here, right now, she could make the kind of difference that would actually save an entire region from destruction. Her. Midwestern girl, dedicated caregiver, and the woman who had snagged the attention and affection of such a man as D-Day. “It wouldn’t be my choice, of course, but I will do what’s necessary to protect everyone on this island.”
That tension in his face eased, his gaze direct and solemn. Swallowing against the fullness in her throat, she gave him a wan smile, silently agreeing with the response she saw in his eyes.
He held her gaze for a moment, then, giving her hand a firm squeeze, he nodded. “You are a beautiful and brave woman, Helen. I think you’re the magnificent one.” He gathered her against him, the tactical vest hard against her chest, in an embrace so strong, so tight, that Helen felt almost lost in it. His hand rough against her face, he tucked her head against him, then molded her to his powerful frame, as if trying to take her inside his body. Helen shivered, so many sensations breaking loose inside her that she could barely handle them all. But what finally unhinged her was the way he tucked back her hair, then pressed his face against hers. It was the tenderest of touches and did unbearable things to her heart, and Helen abruptly turned her face into the curve of his neck sliding her arms around him.
“I adore you,” he whispered hoarsely against her hair. “So very much.” He smoothed back her hair with this thumb, then brushed his mouth against her temple. And that one single, gentle caress devastated her, and she caught him by the back of his neck and turned her face against his. He inhaled sharply and lifted her chin, covering her mouth in a hot, starving kiss.
Helen made a low sound, succumbing to the urgency clamoring in her, her mouth going slack beneath his, desperate for the taste of him. His fingers tangling in her hair, D-Day shifted his hold and dragged her up against him. A frenzied weakness pumped through her when she felt him against her thigh. Another low sound was driven from her, and D-Day spread his hand wide against the back of her head, increasing the pressure of his mouth as the kiss turned wet and urgent, as though some grinding need had broken loose. Feeling as if she were drowning in lava, Helen clung to him, yielding up everything, the searching hungry heat of his mouth electrifying her, the feel of his hand against her face destroying her.
A violent shudder coursed through him, and D-Day tore his mouth away, his breathing harsh and labored in the silent room. His arm around her hips, he dragged her higher, crushing her against him, and Helen whispered his name when she felt the hard, thick ridge of flesh against her. Frantic to have this one last excruciatingly meaningful moment between them to wash away the unfulfilling act they had to perform last night, she wrapped her legs around him. D-Day carried her to the door, and pressed her back against the wood, taking her mouth in another wild, plundering kiss, and Helen surrendered everything to his hot, searching mouth, shuddering at the movement of his thighs and hips riding hard against her.
As if driven by an out-of-control need, he rocked his hips against her, and Helen clutched his shoulders, the feel of him rubbing against her blinding her with desire. Fully ravaging his sexy mouth, she lifted herself against him, counter-stroking along the length of him, trying to relieve his need—and hers.
He jerked against her as he begged against her lips, his breathing harsh and labored, he rasped out, “Free me, Helen, darlin’.” His voice was gruff, unsteady, and thick with desire. “I need you and this after last night.”
She reached down and unzipped his pants, his chest expanding raggedly. She cried out against his mouth as his erection settled between her thighs, his face contorting at the pleasure. Lifting her hips to accommodate him, he began thrusting against her, his mouth hungry and wild, and Helen clutched him with her legs, frantic for the feel of his hard dick inside her, a throbbing heaviness in her.
Sliding deep inside her, he rocked against her, and Helen tightened her legs around him, his merciless hold fusing them body to body. He gripped her around the hips, locking her against him, his body thrusting, driving, urgent against hers. He touched her with his thumb, ramping up every sensation in her tiny bundle of nerves, and she came with blinding pleasure, convulsing around him. Then with a hoarse groan and a savage thrust, he cried out and arched against her. Covering her mouth in a punishing kiss, drinking the sounds that were driven from her, he thrust just as fiercely into her, a fragmented groan shuddering from him as he climaxed inside her.
On his knees, Zorro’s side and head throbbed in rhythm to his heartbeat, his body stiffening against the next blow. It didn’t come. He really needed to learn to curb his sarcasm. The rain had finally abated, but the NPA had bound and gagged them, left them on the wet, muddy ground during the darkest hours of the long night, while they dispatched the government troops who had been steps away. Unfortunately, the wrong faction had found them first.
At the crack of dawn, a man came to them, cut their ankle bonds, and pulled out the gag. Between the NPA surrounding them, he saw a man coming toward them, shouting orders in Tagalog. Beside him, Buck lay in a heap, moaning, and the goat fuck just kept fuck-fuck-fucking along.
Suddenly, someone jerked his head back. He stared into a pair of dark eyes and knew this wasn’t going to be fun. “What are you doing here?” he asked in his native language. “Who are you?”
Zorro looked confused, shrugging. “We’re just tourists,” he responded in Spanish.
The man backhanded him in disgust as he rapidly spoke to one of his subordinates, blood filling Zorro’s mouth, his knitted lip splitting open again. Then it was a blur of a body-punishing march, his side on fire, as someone carried Buck across his shoulders, and they trudged through some of the thickest jungle Zorro had ever seen and he’d been to most parts of the world. There was nothing but green as far as the eye could see.
The sun came up, the brightness hurting his eyes as they broke out of the trees to a base of layered jagged, black shale-looking rocks on both sides of a paved road. Vehicles were waiting, one a technical, a pickup truck mounted with a fifty-cal machine gun, along with two jeeps. He was forced into one, and Buck was deposited into the other.
Before long, they reached a bridge, spanning what looked like a dam, water rushing below into a reservoir, and on the other side was a full-blown compound, including a nice, modern mansion of brick, stone, and metal. What the fuck was this?
The vehicles stopped and Zorro and Buck were jerked from the jeeps, he and Buck weaving as they were pushed across the large lawn. Zorro’s gut clenched, and his warrior instincts kicked in hard. The man crossing the lawn wasn’t Filipino…he was Ziad Bannout, and Zorro’s blood ran cold because Ziad was presumably dead, but he would know the man who had waged war on American military bases throughout Europe and the Mediterranean. He had murdered a convoy of Marines, and that was only part of what he had done. The assignment to kill him had gone to the Tier 1 boys. They would be pissed when they found out they probably killed a very good double.
The nuclear triggers weren’t going to the NPA, and these men weren’t part of that organization. They were Bannout recruits, and this butcher was just steps away from nuclear weapons.
Zorro didn’t eyeball him as they passed, showed no recognition, just tried to put a blank look on his face. It was lucky that Buck couldn’t see him, because in his dazed mental state, he wasn’t sure what he would reveal.
They were taken behind the mansion, past patios with opulent furnishings, and Zen-like troughs full of water. They reached an iron door, and Zorro took a hard breath, looking up at the sun. He suspected he wasn’t going to see it for a while. Buck collapsed, and one of Bannout’s men shouldered him into a fireman’s carry.
They descended two flights of stone stairs to a concrete floor with banks of square, metal meshed cells. They cut his bonds and shoved him into the damp, filthy enclosure, and levered Buck inside to drop him. Zorro lunged forward, catching the big man against his body, protecting his head as he crashed onto Zorro’s torso with a heaviness that told him Buck was unconscious. Agony exploded in the region of his bullet wound, and the last two of his ribs, telling him that they were cracked for sure. For a moment, he writhed in excruciating misery as he worked to catch his breath against the terrible throbbing pain.
He had every reason to hope, especially to alert TOC that one of the most notorious terrorists on the planet was angling for the very nuclear triggers they had stumbled across on that op in Thailand. His team was coming for him. He was going to believe that Buck got through. He and Buck would survive. They had to or millions would suffer.
This really was the motherfuckinglode of all goat fucks.
After he recovered, he released her, and Helen got dressed in the laundered clothes she’d been wearing when she was kidnapped, including her sturdy boots. He pulled his sidearm out of the holster, screwed on the suppressor, and set it into her hands.
“Head shots,” he said, and she nodded, her eyes bleak but determined. He hated like hell that he had to set this burden on her, but they were up against heavy odds, and he needed to know that she could defend herself if she had to. He hoped she didn’t have to.
She nodded. “I won’t let you down,” she whispered.
He opened the door, and it hit him immediately, that smell, metallic, cloying, and unmistakable—blood.
“Stay behind me, and out of sight,” he said, his voice low and fierce.
He stepped out of the room, his automatic weapon up, and he surged forward into the main room, Helen was close behind him. She crowded at his back, her weapon pointing at the floor like a pro. Buck had taught her well. A quick glance made him swear softly. Lando was on the floor, his eyes open and staring, his throat slashed.
His housemaid was standing in the middle of the room, her cascade of black hair now a ruthless topknot on her head, a handgun pointing at him. Her delicate features and compact body were sleek and feminine, but there was nothing womanly about her; that nurturing spirit was gone.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I know exactly who I am, but you’re not Graham Butler, although you are the spitting image of him. It’s uncanny,” she said, that subservient look gone, replaced with one that told him she was as dangerous as she looked.
“How do you know that?” he asked, calling her bluff.
She smirked and her eyes roamed over him. “Graham never had a body like yours on his best day.” Her eyes roamed over him again full of admiration. “He was too damn lazy, and he had a scar just at the edge of his lower back. One I gave him.” She stared at him in speculation. “You’re not CIA…military…Delta?”
He snorted.
“Ah, the legendary Navy SEAL.”
Fuck . He was blown. He glanced down at Lando, inclining his head. “Why take him out?”
In a dispassionate voice, she said, her stare brittle and cold, “I’m here for the same reason you are.” She tried waving off any caution he might have, but he didn’t lower his weapon. “We’re currently on the same side. I’m here for the triggers.”
“So, you know where they are?”
She tipped her head, no smile, no inclination of her thoughts, yet a glitter of anticipation sparkled in her eyes. “Yes, but that’s not going to help us.”
“Why?”
She nudged her head with resignation. “They’re in the safe.”
He sent her an arched look. “And you don’t have the combination?”
With only the lightest dip of her head, she sighed. “Sadly, no, but the NPA cannot get to them either, which helps. They also can’t, obviously, blow the safe if they knew it was there, which they don’t.”
“Why do you care?”
“She works for China,” Helen said, her sweet body locked with tension as she stepped out and pointed her gun at the woman.
“Oh, so you’re not just a pretty face,” the woman murmured. “Yet I can’t believe you’re CIA.”
“I’m an aid worker.”
The woman’s eyes flashed. “Are you? Caught up in all of this, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“You can call me Dragonlady.” She dropped her arm and slipped her gun behind her. He bet it wasn’t the only weapon she had on her. “Let’s just say that my country would prefer that the NPA not be in possession of said triggers.”
“Watch her,” he said, as he lowered his weapon and set it against the wall. For better or worse, they were in this together with a foreign operative. He walked over to the place where he saw Lando remove the diamonds. Pulling up the floorboards, he examined the safe. “Touch keys. What the hell could be the combination?”
“Something that was easy to remember, and personal,” Dragonlady said.
Helen gasped softly, and he looked over at her. She was staring at the ceiling and appeared to be doing math in her head. “Try six-two-five-four-six-two-eight-four-four-seven-three.”
He punched in the numbers, but the door wouldn’t open. “Nope.”
“Wait.” She swore. “I messed up. Try six-two-five-four- four- there are two i’s in maliit -six-two-eight-four-four-seven-three.”
He imputed the string of numbers again with the added four, and the safe whirred, and the door released. He looked up at Helen and grinned. “You’re amazing. How did you know?”
“He called Taer his little tiger in Tagalog while rocking his body after he died. It’s personal, very personal to Lando, easy to remember, and most key locks are set up with both alpha and numeric.”
Dragonlady laughed. “Again, not just a pretty face.”
Helen shrugged with a smile. D-Day reached in, pushed past the wad of money, and snagged the small gray case. Pulling it out, he unsnapped the latches, and a surge of relief went through him. The triggers.
“Excellent. Now we get out of—” Her voice cut off as they heard voices outside. “NPA. Let’s move. I know a secret way out of here.” He grabbed his M4, tucking the case into his ruck, then hefted it over his shoulder as he and Helen followed the Chinese operative into the kitchen where she hit a hidden release, and a door slid open. She ducked inside and they followed. She touched another button, and the door slid closed without a sound. He followed her down the stairs through a tunnel and they emerged yards away from the compound. The sound of angry, disgruntled voices filled Lando’s house when they found his body. She turned to him. “You head back to Manilla, and I’ll get a pat on the back for a job well done.”
He didn’t wait around for the NPA to start looking for them. He grabbed Helen’s hand and started running. The first thing he would do when they got close enough was to radio TOC. He wanted to find out if Buck and Zorro had made it back safely and in one piece and give them the good news that he had the triggers. He was going to request a helo, because the longer they were in the jungle, the higher the odds were that they would run into unfriendlies.
They could go to ground until it got dark, and as he ran, he looked for a suitable blind in which to hunker down. He found it after about ten minutes of running hard. Feeling exposed in the daylight, even in the dappled sunlight of the jungle, he veered toward a particularly thick growth of brush, knelt down and dug, pushed and heaved at the thick debris until he’d made a hole, then he pulled Helen in, and they settled in for the remainder of the day.
He pulled her close. “We’re going to lay low until nightfall.” He pulled out some MREs and water. “We’ll eat, then sleep. Be prepared to do some running,” he said. She nodded, and after they had eaten, he asked, “How are you holding up through all of this?”
“To be honest, better than I would ever have imagined. Maybe it’s true what Buck says that I’m part of the same DNA that makes him so resilient as a SEAL.”
“You are a SEAL babe, darlin’, for sure,” he said, fighting a grin, feeling the pride swelling inside him. Helen had exceeded even his expectations. He kicked himself for underestimating her. “I’m so proud of how you’ve handled yourself through all of this, although I was royally pissed when you agreed to become a NOC. You facilitated the recovery of the triggers with invaluable information. You deserve a freaking medal, lady.”
He noted the shadows under her eyes and suspected that sleep had been scarce in the last forty-eight hours.
“I’d rather be your…what was it…SEAL babe?” She played with the ends of his hair, her gaze soft and sweet. “Do I get anything for that?”
He lowered his head and slowly moistened her bottom lip, then he took her mouth, taking great care to do it well. He released a soft sigh, and she slid her free hand up his torso, finally cupping the back of his head. He deepened the kiss, and Helen yielded fully to his questing tongue. Finally, D-Day broke the kiss, holding her with infinite care.
She found his mouth again, and after a long, satisfying kiss, he reluctantly drew away, gazing down at her as he caressed her bottom lip with his thumb. He stroked her face, tracing her cheekbones, the arch of her eyebrows, then he gave her another quick kiss. “How was that for a reward?” he asked, his tone husky.
“Yeehaw, there would be so many women lined up to save the world with that kind of incentive,” she murmured with a short laugh. Her face went solemn. “I am somewhat of a sham right now.”
“How’s that?” he asked as she snaked her arm around his waist.
“I’m scared, Drew. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to lose you.” She buried her face in his neck and his chest tightened. Pressing another kiss against her hair, he began slowly stroking his hand up and down her back.
“I’m scared, too, darlin’ for the same reasons, but more about us failing to get these triggers back where they can be neutralized. I will do all that I can to protect you, but don’t hesitate to take matters into your own hands. Shoot to kill. Believe me, they will.” He slid to the soft underbrush with her in his arms. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”
“Is this a good time to say?—”
“No. Not here, not when everything is so ugly.”
“But Drew?—”
“No. We will wait until we are in the right place, and the right time.”
“But what if that never happens?” she said, her voice shaky, on the verge of tears.
“It won’t matter, darlin’. We both know how we feel, and they’re just words after all.” He lied. They weren’t, but he couldn’t bear to say them until everything was settled. They were going to make it out of here alive. He wasn’t going to his maker without settling, once and for all, his past. It was the only way he could be with Helen, the only way that would count. And if he didn’t figure it out, he would be better off dead anyway.