Corbray narrowed his eyes. “Is something else going on here?”
“Like what?” Derek played stupid, but he knew what Corbray was asking.
“Like you and Ms. Hamilton.”
“Hell, no. She’s the sister of a buddy who took bullets for me. I want to make sure she’s truly safe. And let’s keep this whole fired thing between us for now.”
“Right.”
Chapter Eight
Jenna hurried to her room, pulled off her headscarf, and brushed her hair. Not that Derek would see it, but still. When it gleamed, she brushed her teeth, put on a touch of mascara and some lip gloss to add color, and tied on her headscarf again.
She checked her reflection.
Oh, who was she fooling? No man would find her pretty dressed like this. She looked like a nun.
You don’t have time for this.
Derek was probably already waiting. He had texted her and asked her to meet him during evening prayers because he had a surprise for her. He hadn’t given her any hints, so her imagination had run wild.
Chocolate? Hand cream? A book or DVD from home?
No, that wasn’t Derek. The surprise was probably her very own Kevlar vest.
Buzzing with anticipation, she grabbed her coat and hurried out the back door.
Derek stood there, bundled into his parka, hands in his pockets, the last rays of the sun turning the stubble on his jaw to copper. “Hey.”
“Are you growing a beard?”
He grinned—a smile that gave her belly flutters. “I need to blend in.”
Jenna laughed. “I haven’t seen many Afghans with red beards.”
“You’d be surprised.” He scratched his jaw. “This damned stuff itches. Come.”
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere.”
That was mysterious. “Nowhere?”
They walked around to the back of the hospital toward the big shed that housed the emergency generator. He opened the door, held it for her.
“The generator shed?” She’d never been here.
She stepped inside to find an old wooden table with chairs sitting in the center of the available floor space, an elegant Afghan rug beneath them. The shed was heated, probably to keep the generator, which dominated the room, from freezing over.
He slipped out of his parka, revealing a firearm in a shoulder holster. “You said you wanted to find a place where we could talk and where you could be yourself. I told Farzad we wanted to spend a little time as a family where you could let your hair down, so to speak, and he asked an uncle to bring a rug and some furniture.”
“Oh! That was so sweet of him—and you.” Jenna stared up at Derek. “Does this mean I can take off my headscarf and tunic?”
“That’s exactly what it means.” He reached over and locked the door.
Jenna pulled off the headscarf and shook her hair free, then unzipped her parka and unbuttoned her gray tunic, draping both over a chair. If she’d known this was going to happen, she’d have worn something nice—a blouse and a bra at least. Now, she stood, braless, in a black T-shirt and gray leggings.
It had been a long time since a man had seen her like this. “Wow. I feel naked.”
His gaze moved slowly over her, stopping at her breasts. “You don’t look naked.”
Her nipples drew tight. “This is a great surprise. Thank you.”
He looked at her like she was nuts. “This isn’t the surprise.”
He pulled out a chair for her, so she sat, her anticipation growing.
He removed his parka and sat across from her, a small box in his hand. “This rightfully belongs to you. I kept it because I didn’t want your father to have it.”
He handed her the box, watching while she opened it.
Jenna stared, stunned. “Oh!”
Tears blurred her vision, and her throat went tight.
James’ dog tags sat on top of an old photograph of her, one that her brother must have carried with him when he’d been deployed.
“Jimmy couldn’t stand your old man. When he was killed, I felt he would want me to take care of these and not let your father have them. For the rest of that deployment, I wore his tags together with my own. Now I can give them to you.”
Jenna took the dog tags from the box, ran her fingers over her brother’s name, pain lancing through her chest.
HAMILTON, JAMES R.
Then she picked up the photo, found herself smiling, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was twelve in this photo. James took me to the zoo when he was home on leave. I had just seen the giraffes.”
“He called you Punk.”
Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat. “I was almost eighteen when he died. My father didn’t tell me. I got the news when a reporter called our home and asked for a comment. I was devastated. When I confronted my father, he said he didn’t want the news to spoil my SAT scores.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s how he works. He never told me that my mother died by suicide. I learned that from James when I was fifteen. I thought she’d died in a car crash.”
“What an asshole.”
“He blamed you for James’ death.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“He learned all he could about you and told me that James had died for nothing, that he’d given his life to save a nobody.” Jenna’s gaze jerked to Derek’s, blood rushing to her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that.”
Derek didn’t seem to feel insulted. “It’s true. I am a nobody. I grew up in the foster system until I was old enough to join the army. I have no family, no ties.”
“That sounds lonely. Where are your parents?”
“I don’t think anyone knows who my father is, but my mother died of an overdose when I was a toddler.” There were shadows in Derek’s eyes, but he spoke as if none of it mattered. “Someone found me next to her corpse in an alley.”
“I’m so, so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t remember it. What I do remember is foster parents who were drunk or a bit too eager to hit me with a belt. One of my foster fathers beat the shit out of me when I refused to suck his dick.”
“God, Derek, that’s awful.”
“I ran away, but the cops found me and brought me back, and he beat me again. I told them what had happened, but the cops thought I was lying. So, yeah, your father was right about me.”
“No, he wasn’t. None of that was your fault. Did you have friends at least?”
“Jimmy was my first close friend—and the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“Can you tell me what happened? How did my brother die?”
* * *
Derek didn’t know why he was telling Jenna all of this. He’d never shared the truth about his past with any woman. He especially didn’t want to talk about the day Jimmy had died, but that was the one thing Jenna deserved to know.
“We’d been working in Kandahar for a while, moving back and forth behind enemy lines. We were patrolling an area in the Sulaiman Mountains, looking for some caves where AQ shitheads were supposedly hiding. I was ahead of Jimmy when I heard your brother shout, ‘Sniper!’ I don’t know how he spotted him—the glint of sunlight on the sniper’s scope maybe. He slammed me to the ground, knocking the breath from my lungs. Then …”
Rat-at-at-at!
Derek thrust all emotion aside. “Then the sniper opened fire as we fell. Your brother ended up taking four or five rounds meant for me. They penetrated his helmet, blew his skull apart. He died instantly.”
Derek could still smell the blood, feel Jimmy’s weight on his back.
Something warm touched his hand.
Jenna.
She watched him through green eyes filled with tears—and worry. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I shouldn’t have made you relive that.”
Derek twined his fingers through hers, her touch bringing him back. “You deserve to know the kind of man your brother was. He was a hard charger, a tr
ue warrior, a credit to the uniform.”
Jenna’s face twisted with grief, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m glad he didn’t suffer. After I became a nurse, I… I wondered how bad it had been.”
“I don’t think he felt a thing.” Derek rubbed a hand over his right cheek. “When I hit the ground, I struck my face on a rock and fractured my cheekbone. I came close to losing consciousness. When my head cleared, I saw blood on my arms and on the snow around me. For a moment, I thought I’d taken a round to the face. Then I realized Jimmy was on top of me, and he wasn’t moving. Our guys took out the sniper.”
“I didn’t realize you were hurt, too.”
“I had one hell of a black eye. It was the last thing your brother gave me.” Derek had savored that pain, his fractured cheekbone a parting gift from a brother, a gift that had meant life. “I know it sounds crazy, but I was sad to see the bruise go.”
“That doesn’t sound crazy to me.” Jenna wiped her tears away with her free hand. “I wish I’d gotten to know him as an adult. I was so much younger than he was.”
“You know the army awarded him the Silver Star, right?”
“Oh, yes. In private, my father seethed because he thought James had died for nothing. But on the campaign trail, he wore James’ medal and bragged about his heroic son who’d died to save another soldier and earned a Silver Star. It made me sick.”
Senator Hamilton was a hypocritical piece of shit.
Jenna looked down at the photo again. “Did you find them?”
“Who?”
“The bastards hiding in the caves, the sniper’s buddies.”
Derek nodded. “We found them, and we sent them to hell.”
“Good.” Jenna’s face crumpled again.
“Hey.” Derek released her hand, got to his feet, and went to sit in the chair beside hers. “Come here.”
He drew her into his arms, her sweet floral scent filling his nostrils as her head came to rest against his chest. He stroked her hair, savoring the feminine feel of her.
“He adored you. He told me so many stories about his little Punk. How you’d broken your ankle in soccer tryouts and your father had forbidden you to play. How you’d thrown up in your father’s lap when he’d forced you to eat escargot at some fancy restaurant. How you got sick of your dad telling you how to wear your hair and cut it yourself with a pair of kitchen scissors.”
Jenna sniffed, laughed. “My father was so angry. It looked awful, but I loved it.”
Derek wanted to comfort her somehow. “Jimmy was the closest thing I ever had to a real brother, but you and he shared a special bond. Now you share Afghanistan. He would be proud of you—I know he would.”
Jenna looked up at him, her cheeks wet. “We share one other thing—you.”
Derek told himself not to do it. She was Jimmy’s little sister, and she was crying. They were in rural Afghanistan, pretending to be brother and sister. He was on the job, for God’s sake. Hell, she was the job.
But then she reached up and ran a hand over his cheek.
Aw, fuck it.
He shifted her in his arms, lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her.
* * *
Jenna’s body came alive the moment Derek’s lips touched hers, the sweet shock of it making her pulse go wild. He tasted her lips one at a time, teasing them with his tongue, nipping them with his teeth, sucking them into his mouth, paying attention to all the little details. The cleft in the center of her upper lip. The corners of her mouth. The curve of her lower lip.
Oh, she had always wanted to be kissed like this—slow, sensual, seductive.
She slid her arms around his neck, kissed him back. “Derek.”
A big hand fisted in her hair, angling her head to allow him better access, his tongue seeking hers. She met him stroke for stroke, the intensity of the kiss building until she could barely breathe. But it still wasn’t enough.
Jenna pulled back, stood, and straddled him, bringing them face to face. She caught his cheeks between her hands, his stubble rough against her palms, his pupils dilated, his lips wet. Her gaze locked with his. “Kiss me.”
This time, he crushed her against him with strong arms, that deliberate tenderness gone as he claimed her mouth with his, ravishing her in the best possible way. His strength was intoxicating, his body so much bigger than hers, his pecs hard against her breasts, the firearm he carried pressing into her ribs.
She wrested control away from him, biting down on his tongue, nipping his lips with hers, only to yield once again, savoring the sensation of being overpowered.
“God, Jenna.” He slid the fingers of one hand into her hair, the other moving beneath her shirt to cup her right breast. Pleasure made her gasp as he squeezed, his thumb teasing her already tight nipple. “You fill my hand.”
She pressed her breast deeper into his callused palm, arousal pooling in her belly, making her ache, driving her hips forward.
Beneath his jeans, he was rock hard.
God, she wanted his cock inside her. It had been six months since she’d had an orgasm, even longer since she’d been with a man.
She had an IUD, a precaution against sexual assault, but did she really want to have sex with James’ best friend in a generator shed in Afghanistan?
Abso-freaking-lutely.
Craving release, she ground herself against the hard ridge of his erection, but the pressure only made her need for him sharper.
With a moan, he tugged up her T-shirt and lowered his mouth to one aching nipple and sucked.
“Oh!” Her head fell back, her hips pressing hard against his.
“Can you get off like this?” His voice was deep, rough.
“I-I don’t know.”
“How about I help?” He yanked down her zipper, slid a hand inside her panties to cup her, his fingers finding and teasing her clit. Oh, he knew what he was doing. Give the man an A for female sexual anatomy.
“You are so wet.” He slid a finger inside her, gathering her moisture, using it to stroke her clit, playing with her. “How does that feel?”
“So… good.” She moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders.
He found a rhythm, his hand working magic between her thighs until she hovered on the brink. She thrust against his hand, her body taking over, pleasure coiling tight inside her. She bit back a cry as orgasm washed through her, sweet and shimmering.
The light went out, darkness filling the space, cutting short her bliss.
They both froze, Jenna’s heart slamming in her chest, the space silent apart from their rapid breathing. Derek moved her off his lap, pushed her behind him, hand moving to his firearm.
Click.
The roar of the generator as it kicked on made Jenna shriek. She covered her ears.
The power had gone out.
Great.
“We need to go!” Derek shouted, zipping her jeans.
Jenna reached for her tunic and headscarf, the fabric of her T-shirt rubbing against aching nipples, the last ripples of her climax still fluttering through her belly.
“I’ll go out first!” He drew the pistol out of his shoulder holster.
She nodded to show him she’d understood, buttoning her tunic and tying her headscarf in place with trembling fingers. She took the box with James’ dog tags and the photo and shoved it into her pocket.
When she was ready, he unlocked the door and stepped outside, weapon in hand.
She waited, hands covering her ears until the door opened again and he motioned her outside. She stepped out into the dark and closed the heavy steel door behind her, cold wind hitting her in the face, her ears ringing. “Sorry.”
It was so quiet out here.
In the dark, she couldn’t read his expression. “Sorry for what?”
“Well, I did … but you didn’t.”
He leaned down close and whispered in her ear. “If you don’t think I enjoyed watching you get off, you’re wrong. You look sexy as fuck when you come.”
&
nbsp; Jenna’s breath caught in her throat. “Really?”
No man had ever said anything like that to her before.
“Hell, yes.” Derek caught her arm with his, and they walked together around the hospital building toward the back door, boots crunching in the snow.
“You’re not sorry?”
“I should be, but I’m not. We need to be careful, Jenna. This isn’t a game.”
No, it wasn’t. If they’d been caught…
Jenna wished she didn’t have to say goodnight. But he couldn’t come inside, and she needed to get back to work.
“Goodnight.” She rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek as a sister should. “Thank you for the surprise. It means a lot to me to have something that belonged to James. And thanks for the… uh… family time, too, Mr. Magic Fingers.”
With that, she turned and keyed herself inside, her heart singing.
Chapter Nine
Derek sat in the Land Cruiser, his body aching with sexual frustration while he tried to write the daily report for Cobra HQ. What the hell was he supposed to say?
Brought subject into generator shed, gave away my greatest tactical advantage without seeking gain, then kissed her, got her off, and left the shed with a hard-on.
Yeah, no.
If Derek had wanted a plan to ensure that he fucked up this job completely, that plan would look something like this past week. He hadn’t managed to persuade Jenna into coming back to the U.S., but he had made out with her and given away his strongest leverage without using it to his advantage.
Jimmy’s dog tags and the photo were supposed to be the breaking point, the moment when this softer approach turned into hardball, pushing Jenna’s emotions to the edge. But Derek had handed her the dog tags and the photo without saying the things he’d planned to say.
Your brother wouldn’t want you to die here, too. He would want to know that his Punk was far away from danger. Please come back with me, Jenna—for Jimmy’s sake.
No, he hadn’t said it.
Instead, he’d told her things he’d never told anyone, whining about his childhood, explaining to her how Jimmy had died. Then he’d tried to comfort her, kissed her mouth and her breasts, and given her a hand job. Would it make any difference if he explained in his report that her breasts were amazing?
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