by Julie Rowe
Carmen snickered, then shifted her weight and guided him into a short hallway. They passed a door before she steered him into the darkness of another room. When he hit the bed, he had to restrain a growl of satisfaction.
Soon. He’d have her naked soon.
She went after his shirt, unbuttoning it and shoving it off his shoulders. His pants went next, unbuttoning the top button and lowering the zipper.
Damn, but her hands were fast.
Before she could get into his pants, he captured her hands. If she touched him, it would be over much too quickly. He had a job to do first.
Leaning down, he whispered, “Orgasms, remember?”
She let out a frustrated groan and struggled to shrug off the remains of her ruined shirt. As soon as it was on the floor, she unhooked her bra and dropped it.
Her breasts were luscious weights in his hands, almost overflowing them with their sensitive, satiny skin. He teased and tugged at her nipples, then dove down to suck hard at one while pinching the other.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and held his head against her, arching her back to present herself as a feast for his senses. He sucked again, and she writhed against him, making small noises that had him seconds away from coming.
Control, asshole.
He managed to strip her pants down her legs, her panties along with them, then tumbled them both onto the bed.
Her hands tore at his pants. “Take these off,” she demanded, her teeth bared.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice raspy. He had to roll away from her to do it.
“Get back here,” she ordered.
He laughed as he shucked his pants as fast as he could. “I’m not Houdini or a contortionist, darlin’.”
Naked, he returned to the bed to take her mouth in a smoking-hot kiss. He was tracing a path down her neck and torso with his mouth with the intent to leave no part of her body untouched when she wrapped her warm hand around his cock.
A white-hot arrow of pleasure and need burned its way through him, and he shuddered. “Carmen.” His voice broke at the end of her name.
“I want you inside me,” she said in a low, sexy tone. “Right now.”
Chapter Seven
10:00 p.m.
Carmen had been waiting for this, for John, for so long she no longer bothered to count the time in anything but lifetimes.
She’d tried to move on, tried relationships with other men a year or two after John Dozer, but none of them came close to touching her wild, sexually hungry soul. And no man had wanted her badly enough to take the time to find a way through her guarded heart.
No man had ever wanted her like John Dozer did.
No man had ever made her feel as if she were flying like John Dozer did.
No man had ever hurt her like John Dozer did.
He owed her a lot of orgasms. And she wanted to collect, starting right now.
“Carmen,” he said on a groan, his whole body shaking. “Have mercy, darlin’. I want to make this good for you.”
“Then get this weapon of yours a little closer to the target, Army.” She’d called him that when they’d first met. It hadn’t started as a term of endearment, but it had ended up there, at least in her mind.
“Don’t you want two or th…three orgasms first?”
She gave it a second or two’s thought. “Later.” She stroked his cock and loved the groan she pulled out of him.
He rested his forehead against hers, panting heavily.
“I want penetration,” she whispered. “Please, John.”
“Sweet Jesus,” he breathed and stopped resisting.
She guided him to the entrance of her body and let him take over.
He pushed in a couple of inches, then paused, his whole body shaking. “Holy fuck,” he said like he was in pain. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“Don’t stop now. I’m not a virgin anymore.”
His eyes snapped open, and his gaze held hers hostage. “Don’t joke about that.”
“You act like you hurt me on purpose,” she said, wrapping her legs around his butt and urging him to go deeper. “You didn’t, and what little pain there was, you very quickly erased with pleasure.”
He dove down to kiss her, rocking his hips, driving himself deeper and deeper into her.
She loved it. Every movement he made stroked nerve endings, sending pleasure through her body. She’d been so fucking empty for so long. Now, finally, she was complete.
For a long moment, they held each other, not moving or speaking, just soaking the other in. Then he began to move, setting up a pace that built on itself, faster, deeper, and harder, until she was on the edge of rapture.
“John.” His name was nothing less than a plea. “Please, please, please.”
With a groan, he took one of her knees and pushed it up and out, allowing him to penetrate deeper. His next thrust set the trigger. The one after that sent her into orbit—pleasure rocketing through her body, a release so powerful she had to have blacked out.
John was breathing heavily over her, groaning, pouring his own climax into her. He was muttering something in her ear.
“Fuck, fuck, holy fuck.” He shuddered again. “Fuck.” He sagged, and she caught him around the waist, reveling in the act of holding him, having his heat and weight on her. They’d only slept together once, but she’d missed it the same as if she’d spent a lifetime of nights with him.
After a minute or two, he levered himself to one side and turned her so they faced each other, pressed close.
His ribs. His wound. His head.
“John,” she said quickly, kicking herself for not considering it sooner. How could she forget that he was injured? “Did we strain anything?”
“I have no idea,” he said, his voice sleepy. “I feel too fucking fantastic for something as small as pain to be a problem.”
She stared at him, but it was too dark to read his expression. A moment later, his breathing deepened and evened out.
Her Army soldier had fallen asleep.
Carmen let herself relax. They were safe here, and he wouldn’t be able to leave without waking her.
She snuggled into his warm body, content for the first time in years.
Too many years.
Monday, March 31, 4:16 a.m.
Her cell phone was ringing. The emergency ringtone. The one her staff used when the situation was life-threatening.
Her hand found the cell phone before she opened her eyes. “This is Dr. Rodrigues.” Christ, her voice sounded like she hadn’t used it in days.
She listened to the report, making the appropriate listening noises as she slid out of bed. Naked, she left the room to write down the highlights on a notepad she kept in her purse. None of it was good.
Movement caught her attention, and she turned. John stood, naked, just this side of the hallway, watching her with a concerned expression.
“How many hospitals are involved? Two? Which ones?” Orlando General Hospital and Kissimmee Public Hospital. Manageable, if everyone did their jobs correctly. “Send out our four-by-four team. A pair to each hospital to investigate and identify the pathogen. If this is what I think it is, we need to know as soon as possible. An hour could make a difference.”
Her staff member agreed and hung up.
“What’s going on?” John asked as soon as she lowered the phone from her ear.
“Possible measles outbreak in Orlando, Florida.”
“Measles? That’s a problem? I thought that was one of the diseases close to eradication due to vaccines.”
“If only.” She shook her head and walked toward him. Toward the bedroom and her clothes. “Thanks to the anti-vaccination movement.”
He studied her face in silence. “It’s a simple childhood disease. Why do you look so worried?”
“That simple childhood disease is still one of the leading causes of death among children under five years old around the world. Many more suffer blindness and brain damage, as
well as debilitating pneumonia, diarrhea, and dehydration. One in four people with measles require a costly hospital stay.” She moved into the bedroom, grabbed a medium-sized duffel bag, and put it on the bed. “The virus can stay in your body and cause a fatal neurological disease called subacute sclerosing panencephalitis years later. It also kills off your T lymphocytes, the white blood cells that contain your immune system’s memory. This destroys your body’s ability to mount a defense against any disease you’ve already had or been vaccinated against. Before a measles vaccine was created, it’s thought that measles either directly or indirectly caused over half of deaths from childhood infectious diseases.”
“So what?” John asked as he started putting on his own clothes. “If most Americans are vaccinated, why the concern?”
Carmen pulled out fresh underwear and a clean shirt and put them on. “Because the vaccine isn’t one-hundred-percent effective. No vaccine is. Some parents now refuse to vaccinate their kids, leaving them vulnerable to the disease and giving the disease access to unprotected victims. All that has to happen is one child from somewhere in Europe, where measles is common, to come here on vacation and infect unvaccinated American kids. Our theme parks could be ground zero for a massive outbreak.”
“One sick kid could lead to an outbreak?” John stopped getting dressed at a pair of jeans. He stood in front of her with a pensive expression. His lean muscles seemed to stand out in the weak light emanating from the lamp in the living room. She battled a sudden desire to lick her way across his chest. For some reason, his bare feet, braced shoulder-width apart, made him even hotter.
She had to clear her throat in order to speak again. “Measles is extremely contagious.”
“We’ve dealt with contagious diseases before. That meningitis scare in El Paso was pretty bad.”
“Measles is much, much worse.” She wanted to explain this in terms anyone could understand. Chances were, he’d have to explain this to someone else. “Let me give you an example. The annual flu, the one that always seems to come around every fall and winter. Does it seem contagious to you?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, it seems like every other person gets it.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Did you know that we’ve done extensive studies on infection rates of all kinds of disease? The number of people one person infected with the seasonal flu can likely infect is about two point six. For measles, that number is fifteen.”
He blinked. “Fifteen? One person with the measles can infect fifteen other people?”
She watched him do rapid calculations in his head.
“That’s…”
“A disaster?” she asked, pulling on her pants. “A catastrophe?”
“I was thinking more like the end of the world.”
Now dressed, she picked up her phone. “Those of us in the field of infectious diseases dread measles for a reason.”
“How is it transmitted?”
“After an infectious person coughs or sneezes, water droplets containing the virus hang in the air. The virus is alive and able to infect a new host for up to two hours. All you have to do to be infected is enter the room and breathe.”
He winced. “Would normal surgical masks protect against it?”
“To some degree. It does lower the transmission rate substantially.”
“I’m hearing a but.”
“But, if people are now showing up sick at hospitals, then they’ve been infecting other people for several days already. The contagious period starts before the symptoms appear.”
John ran a hand over his face. “If this thing has had several days to run amok without anyone the wiser, we’re fucked.”
“That’s why I’m sending in two epidemiology teams immediately. We need to know as quickly as possible if we’re dealing with measles or something else.”
“But infected contagious people could be getting on planes right now, heading for home or who knows where, exposing the virus to everyone on their plane, hotel lobby, elevator…anywhere, really.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right. We can’t just scream at the whole country and tell them to put on masks. First off, we don’t have enough masks for every person. Second, it would start a panic, which we don’t know is warranted yet. Third, if the panic is bad enough, we could see a complete breakdown of law and order.”
“So, we just have to wait?”
“Until we get confirmation we’re dealing with measles. Until we identify the virus as the standard variant and not something new, interesting, and different enough from the standard that the vaccine offers no protection. There’s always a risk of a virus or bacteria mutating or evolving into something worse.”
“If it’s new and worse, then what?”
“We have to determine if our current vaccine is effective against it at all. Measles is relatively stable, unlike the seasonal flu, which changes rapidly. But no virus is really stable. They pick up new pieces of genetic material from their hosts all the time.”
“When are you leaving?” he asked as if she’d already made it clear that she was going to go.
“I’m not going anywhere yet.”
He took a step closer to her. “You don’t want to oversee the investigation?”
“In the last two years, the CDC has investigated seven hundred and fifty health events around the world and here at home. I couldn’t possibly investigate them all personally. I coordinate the CDC’s resources and send out teams to do the legwork. I do very little work on the ground.”
“You went to El Paso and Utah.”
“Both of those cases were…exceptional. Terrorists were involved. It wasn’t just a health emergency; someone was trying to weaponize specific bacteria and viruses. Until we know more, I need to stay here in Atlanta to coordinate our responses to all the health events we’re currently working on and any new ones that occur.”
“That sounds reasonable,” he said in a drawl. “But I know you, Carmen. You’d never be satisfied with coordinating things while other people take the risks.”
So, he was trying to pick a fight with her now?
“Surprise,” she said with as much false cheer as she could muster. “I grew up and became a responsible adult. Just because I want to do something doesn’t mean I should or will do it. I’ve learned the fine art of delegating.” Her phone went off again. “It’s the Director of the CDC. I have to take this.”
John didn’t look happy, but he didn’t move, either—stood watching her talk, like every move she made had to be documented or something.
In the diffuse light, his bruises looked even worse than they were. His whole left side was one massive blue, red, and purple landscape. He also looked like he had two black eyes, even though she knew he didn’t. The man should still be in the hospital.
They shouldn’t have made love. What had she been thinking?
Well, she knew what she’d been thinking—how much she wanted to get him out of his clothes—the point was, she shouldn’t have been thinking it.
Stupid. Very stupid.
The director was clear: the suspected measles outbreak was her top priority. But she couldn’t coordinate while hiding in an apartment with one cell phone and one laptop computer. She needed her office, along with her desktop computer and all its screens, multiple phone lines, and immediate access to lab results.
Carmen assured the director she would return to CDC headquarters and stay there to coordinate their response to the possible outbreak.
As soon as she ended the call, John invaded her personal space. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
“You’re not cleared to go back to work. Just hours ago, you were in a hospital bed.”
He moved in, crowding her up against the two-seater kitchen table. “You’re not leaving my sight,” he said in an inflexible tone.
She tried to push him back a step. “John, be reasonable.”
He leaned down until they were almost nose to nose. “This is me being reasonable.” His flash of
teeth was a threat, not a smile. “Want to see me unreasonable?”
Seriously? Did he think she just strolled into a dangerous situation without any intelligence or preparation? “I’m staying in my office and sleeping on a cot. I’ll probably be safer there than you are staying here.”
His eyes flared, and a genuine grin spread over his face.
He looked much too happy. What had she just said?
Oh, shit.
“You know what they say,” John said, his grin doing nothing to lessen the impact his body had on hers. “Two cots are better than one.”
“You need rest, not the stress of being in the middle of the communication tornado my office is about to become.”
“I’m not going to be doing anything but keeping you company and keeping those assholes who are trying to kill me guessing as to where I am.”
“You really believe you can sit and just watch me run around like a chicken with my head cut off without trying to take over?”
Cold anger flattened his mouth and leached the color from his face. “I’ve never gotten between you and your job. Just between you and danger.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but as she sifted through the past, she realized he was right. “True.” She took in a breath and added, “I apologize.”
He relaxed enough to shift back, then lifted one shoulder. “You said it yourself. I’m not allowed to go back to work. Besides, if I’m in the same room as you, you can keep me out of trouble.” His smile turned sharp. “Hell, if it would make you feel better, I’ll put on a collar so you can hold my leash.”
Chapter Eight
4:36 a.m.
Carmen’s narrowed eyes and red cheeks told Dozer she wanted to punch him in the face. Or kiss him. “A leash?”
Definitely punch him.
“I’ve been following your orders for eight months,” he said in a low, rough tone. “You know what I discovered during that time?”
“You want to go to medical school?”
He laughed. “No. I like it when you give orders. I like making you happy.”
Her jaw dropped open for a count of two seconds before she recovered and snapped it closed. “You promise to follow my orders? All of my orders?”