Hard Target

by Pamela Clare

  What had she just said?

  Except that it was true.

  She loved him.

  Well, damn.

  He looked up at her, a startled expression on his bruised face. “Jenna, I—”

  “You stupid whore!” Perooz stood in the doorway, rifle slung over his shoulder. “Father, come! The woman has untied him!”

  “Easy, Jenna,” Derek whispered, grasping the sharpened stake.

  But Qassim was right behind his son. “Remove her. Kill him.”

  Adrenaline turned Jenna’s blood to ice, but she stood. “If you want to kill him, you have to kill me first.”

  Perooz stormed over, grabbed Jenna by her arm, threw her aside—then stared down in shock at the stake that protruded from his abdomen.

  Qassim let out a cry, raised his weapon, aimed it at Derek.

  “No!” Jenna crawled toward Derek to cover his body with hers.

  Something bounced across the dirt floor.

  A grenade.

  19

  Derek saw the stun grenade and rolled Jenna beneath him, shielding her from hot shrapnel with his body. “Close your eyes! Cover your ears!”

  BANG!

  A loud blast. A flash of blinding light.

  Jenna screamed.

  Qassim screamed, too.

  The heavy tread of military boots.

  Derek opened his eyes to find Qassim staggering blindly, hands over his face, as a half-dozen Cobra operatives poured through the door. They threw Qassim to the ground, ignoring his shouts and curses as they handcuffed him.

  “Nice of you guys to show up.” Derek looked into Jenna’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be now.” She tried to smile, but he could see she was badly shaken. “I thought it was a real grenade. I thought…”

  Corbray knelt beside them. “Dawg, you look like hell.”

  “He needs to get to a hospital.”

  “We’ll take good care of him, Ms. Hamilton. How are you?”

  “I’m okay—just a bit overwhelmed, I guess.” There was a hitch to her voice, and Derek knew she was near tears.

  “I bet.” Corbray looked at Perooz, who lay lifeless beside him, his blood pooled in the dirt. “Looks like you two were taking care of business without us.”

  Derek gritted his teeth and struggled to lift his weight off Jenna.

  “I got you.” Corbray lent him a hand, leaning him back against the post. “You just take it easy, brother.”

  “How are the others?” Jenna asked. “Are they…?”

  “Ortiz, Cruz, and O’Neal are out of surgery and stable. Jones is alive—but only because of you, Ms. Hamilton. It was touch and go for a while. He’s in ICU at the U.S. military hospital in Kabul.”

  That was good news.

  “Jenna is … a good field medic,” Derek managed to say.

  But the adrenaline was fading, pain and cold and exhaustion taking hold.

  Jenna drew him down, pillowed his head in her lap. “Rest. We need to keep him warm. He’ll need IV fluids.”

  Corbray shed his coat, spread it over Derek, the warmth precious. “Hang on, buddy. Doc is on his way.”

  “Ms. Hamilton, Mr. Tower, you don’t know how relieved I am to find you safe.”

  “Kazi.” Rage had Derek fighting to stand. “You bastard!”

  Corbray restrained him. “Hey, man, relax. This is a joint operation between Cobra and the governor’s security forces.”

  Derek’s gaze locked with Kazi’s. “He’s behind this. You know he is.”

  Corbray gave a little shake of his head, his gaze telling Derek to shut up, that they would deal with Kazi later. “He’s helping us out here.”

  Kazi turned to Qassim, drew his weapon. “You filthy son of a pig.”

  Corbray blocked the shot. “Not here! Not in front of Ms. Hamilton.”

  Kazi glared at Corbray but ordered his men to take Qassim outside.

  “Wh-what’s happening?” Jenna asked, eyes wide.

  “I think Kazi is about to get rid of the evidence,” Corbray said.

  Qassim had begun to beg, his shrieks pathetic. “Please don’t! They killed my son! I did what you told me to do! I only did—”

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  Jenna gasped, jumped.

  Derek took her hand. “It’s okay, angel. It’s okay.”

  But it wasn’t okay. She’d been through hell.

  “Oh, fuck.” Derek’s world started to break apart, turning to pixels.

  “Derek?” Jenna lowered his head gently to her lap once more. “He’s bleeding again. Hand me what’s left of that burqa.”

  She pressed down hard on his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but moan.

  Then Doc Sullivan was there. “Hey, boss, Ms. Hamilton.”

  In a heartbeat, Jenna seemed to swallow her fear and went total nurse on them.

  “He’s got an entry wound in his left shoulder but no exit wound. I put hemostatic and pressure bandages on it, but Qassim aggravated the wound to cause him pain. I tore up my burqa and made a dressing with that. I think he has broken ribs from a bullet that struck his vest. He’s had trouble breathing, but there’s no pneumothorax. I gave him twenty mgs of morphine that wore off hours ago.”

  “Thanks for taking such good care of him. Let’s get him comfortable.”

  A stick in Derek’s thigh. A stretcher. A warm blanket.

  And then Derek was floating, Jenna stroking his hair.

  When he opened his eyes again, he was in a Chinook, an IV bag hanging above him, Jenna holding his hand, her worried gaze focused entirely on him.

  She’d told him she loved him. Had she meant it, or had it been stress?

  She smiled. “How do you feel?”

  He didn’t really register her question, his gaze on her face. “Beautiful.”

  Yeah, he was high as a kite.

  He knew when they reached the U.S. military hospital in Kabul, when they took X-rays, when Jenna kissed him as they wheeled him into surgery.

  “I’ll be right here.”

  Then there was nothing.

  Jenna sat next to Derek’s bed, watching his vitals, getting the nurse when his IV fluids ran low, changing the ice bag on his chest, doing her best to keep him comfortable. The staff had let her borrow a pair of scrubs, as her clothes were filthy with dirt and blood. They’d fed her, too, and brought in one of those chairs that opened into a bed so she could stay overnight.

  It was almost midnight now. It had taken the surgeon a little more than three hours to remove the ball from his shoulder and repair the damage to bone and connective tissue. There was nothing they could do for his broken ribs or cracked sternum or the bruises and lacerations on his cheeks and lip. They would heal with time.

  She had come so close to losing him, so close to watching him die.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, tried not to remember. Malik hitting the windshield in a spray of blood. The sight of Derek falling back onto the asphalt. The sound of his cries when Qassim tortured him. Perooz falling to the dirt, impaled through the abdomen. The blast of the stun grenade.

  Please don’t! They killed my son! I did what you told me to do! I only did—

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  Jenna had witnessed more violence, more brutality in the past two weeks than in the rest of her life combined. Through it all, Derek had been beside her, sheltering her, doing his best to keep her safe—and driving her crazy in bed.

  She’d told him she loved him, and it was true. She had gotten involved with another man who was dedicated to his career.

  Well done.

  But she’d seen the shock on his face.

  He’d told her upfront that he didn’t do relationships. He’d warned her not to get tangled up in him. She’d gone and fallen for him anyway. Of course, there was a chance he wouldn’t remember what she’d said. Then she wouldn’t have to listen to him tell her that it wouldn’t work, that whatever they’d had was over now.

  Maybe if she pretended that nothing ha
d happened, her feelings would fade. She’d studied some psychology and knew that people in survival situations sometimes forged special bonds—the product of hormones. Maybe what she thought was love was nothing more than stress-related brain chemistry.

  Yeah, not a chance.

  Nice try, though.

  He moaned, his eyes fluttering open.

  “Hey, there.” She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “How do you feel?”

  His lips curved in a drugged, sleepy smile. “Happy to see you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She picked up his water pitcher, guiding the plastic straw so it wouldn’t jab him where his lip had split. “Drink.”

  He raised his head, did as she’d asked, then reached for her hand with his right hand, his fingers threading with hers. “How are the others?”

  “I’ve been to see them all.” She wouldn’t go into detail. He didn’t need to know that Cruz had almost bled out and had lost part of his colon, or that O’Neal would have to have his knee replaced and had come close to losing his leg. “They’re all going to recover. They’re moving Malik out of ICU tomorrow.”

  Derek squeezed her fingers. “How are you doing—and don’t tell me you’re fine. No one who has been through what you went through today is fine.”

  Jenna started to say that she was coping, but her throat went tight, tears filling her eyes. She wiped them away. “I’ll be okay. I just need some time. I’ve never seen anything like…”

  “I’m sorry, Jenna. I was supposed to keep you safe. I failed you.”

  “Don’t say that! You did everything you could. You almost died. If Cobra hadn’t gotten there when they did, Qassim would have…”

  In her mind, she saw Qassim raise his rifle, point it at Derek.

  “You risked your life for mine, Jenna. You tried to reach me, to cover me with your own body. That’s not how it’s supposed to go with bodyguards.”

  “I couldn’t let him kill you, Derek. I …” She stopped herself from telling him she loved him a second time.

  “Do you know who I saw today?” His gaze was soft, his swollen lips curling in a slight smile. “I saw Jimmy—in you. I saw his courage in you. What you did—for me, for Jones… You’re one in a million, Jenna. Just like your brother.”

  Derek’s words put a hitch in Jenna’s chest, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  But at that moment, the nurse walked in.

  “You’re awake!” She had a thermometer in one hand. “I’m here to check your vitals. How is your pain?”

  Fighting to hold herself together, Jenna left the room on the pretext of refilling Derek’s ice pack. She passed the little Christmas tree the nurses had put up in the hallway. Today had been Black Friday. Back home, people had been shopping, while Derek and his men...

  Jenna left the ice pack on the counter, hurried into the bathroom, then locked the door and let her tears come.

  Three days later, Derek was discharged, his left arm in a sling, an RX for pain meds in his hand. While Corbray stayed behind to oversee repairs of their compound in Mazar-e-Sharif and to deal with Kazi, Derek flew with Jenna, Cruz, O’Neal, Ortiz, and Jones on a special medical transport from Bagram Air Base to the U.S. military hospital in Landstuhl, Germany. From there, Cruz, Jones, and O’Neal would be admitted to the hospital, while Ortiz, Derek and Jenna stayed at Cobra’s Frankfurt facility where Derek could heal up a bit before heading back to the States.

  During the flight, Jenna watched over him and the others as if they were her patients, and it was clear that his men adored her. Jones told anyone who would listen how she had climbed out of an armored Land Cruiser with bullets flying to save his life.

  Jenna deserved the glory.

  She deserved more than that. She deserved a man who was good to her, a man who was worthy of her, a man who could give her the life she wanted—a happy home and her own babies to hold.

  Derek wanted to be that man, but he didn’t know how. He’d never been in a long-term relationship. Though he’d like to blame that on his job, the truth was more pathetic.

  He’d never had a family. He’d never known that kind of life. Until he’d met Jimmy, he’d never even had a close friend. How could he give a classy, smart woman like Jenna the life she deserved when he didn’t know what a normal life looked like?

  Figure it out, or let her go.

  It was that simple.

  It wasn’t simple at all.

  She’d told him she loved him. The truth was that he loved her, too. He loved her down to his blood and bones. He hadn’t said a damned thing about it since, afraid to set something in motion that she would come to regret. They hadn’t spoken about the future at all—where she would go, what she would do, whether they would see each other once they got back to the U.S.

  Fucking coward.

  He watched her check Jones’ dressings, a smile on her face. She was trying to hide it, but what she’d been through had left her struggling. He’d seen it before in young soldiers—the shock that followed that first battle and the brutality of combat.

  She noticed him watching, and her smile brightened, putting a hitch in his chest. She stood, took off her nitrile gloves, and walked over to him, lowering her voice so that only he could hear. “How is my favorite patient?”

  He caught her around her waist, breath hissing between his teeth at the pain in his chest. “Sit on my lap, and I’ll show you how I am.”

  She laughed. “Those are big words for a man who can’t move without wincing.”

  “Can I help it? I see you, and I want you.”

  “Sorry, but there is no Mile High Club on medical flights.”

  “Well, damn. You’re no fun.”

  She sat beside him, leaned close. “Wait till we get to our room.”

  Corbray had taken care of everything. When they landed, Derek’s gear and Jenna’s luggage were transferred to the helicopter and flown with them to Cobra’s Frankfurt complex, an enormous stone and glass building outside of the city.

  He wanted to hold the door for her, but she held it for him, any movement with his arms or upper body excruciating.

  “Wow.” She looked around.

  “Impressed?”

  “This place looks like a fancy office building, not a bunker. But I guess we’re no longer in a war zone.”

  He caught her hand, raised it to his lips. “You’re safe here, Jenna. I promise.”

  They settled into the suite set aside for him or Corbray, no one batting an eye when Jenna stayed with him.

  Jenna started to undress him. “Time for you to sleep.”

  “I so wish you were taking off my clothes for other reasons.”

  But, yeah, he was tired. Exhausted, really.

  She gave him a glass of water and a pain pill. “Rest.”

  He dozed while Jenna took a shower, waking when his phone buzzed.

  Corbray.

  “We need to talk privately. I’ve got news—and you’re not going to like it.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  Five minutes later, Derek ended the call, angry enough to put his fist through something. He was out of bed by the time Jenna stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in her bathrobe. She took one look at him and stopped in her tracks.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  How was he going to tell her this?

  He crossed the room, kissed her forehead. “I just got a call from Corbray. He had a long sit-down with Kazi. He also heard back from some contacts in Washington, people I had asked to do some digging.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Jenna, your father …” Shit. This was harder than Derek had imagined. “He fired Cobra when it was clear I wouldn’t be able to persuade you to come back.”

  “He fired you? All of this, everything you did for me—”

  “Was my choice.”

  She stared at him, clearly astonished.

  “After he fired us, your father contacted Kazi and bribed him to evict you from the province. We�
��ve got a record of the phone calls and the five hundred grand your father transferred to him.”

  “What?”

  “Kazi still denies that Qassim worked for him. He says Qassim decided to abduct you and demand ransom, but Corbray and I don’t buy it. We know Qassim worked for him. We think Kazi wanted to get more from your father and ordered Qassim to abduct you for ransom. He planned to tell your father bad guys had abducted you and then keep the ransom for himself, perhaps even claiming credit for rescuing you. Kazi only changed sides when it was clear that Cobra was going to come out on top.”

  The breath left Jenna’s lungs in a gust, blood draining from her face. “My father was behind all of this? He started it?”

  “He was the catalyst.”

  The hurt on Jenna’s face broke Derek’s heart.

  “I’m so sorry.” He ignored the pain in his chest and drew her close.

  “He almost got you killed—and the others.” She pulled back, clearly reeling. “How can you even stand to look at me? How can you touch—”

  He cupped her cheek, looked into her eyes. “It’s not your fault, Jenna. Nothing that bastard did is your fault.”

  When they got back to Washington, D.C., the first thing Derek was going to do was pay Senator Hamilton a visit.

  20

  “Oh!” Jenna stared in amazement and delight. “It’s beautiful.”

  Frankfurt’s Christmas Market at Römerberg was a sight to behold. Colored lights glittered everywhere, a three-story-high Christmas tree at one end of the square. Small cottages had been set up for vendors in neat rows. The scents made her mouth water—roasting nuts, grilled sausages, gingerbread, fresh pretzels, mulled wine, pastries, fresh-baked bread and more. There was even a merry-go-round.

  They had decided to stay in Frankfurt for another ten days to give themselves both time to rest. Derek seemed to be in less pain, though his shoulder would take time to heal fully. Jenna had gotten her stitches out, and her headaches were becoming less frequent. Still, she was in no hurry to return home.

  Derek kissed her temple, his left arm still in a sling. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in days.”