“I didn’t tell them anything,” she tried to say, but she couldn’t get the words out. How had Tom found her? Her ribs ached, and it hurt to breathe.
Then she remembered. Tom had shot Anwar Abdul. Hannah had a vision of him falling at her feet. She wanted to applaud, to tell Tom how grateful she was that he’d come for her, but she couldn’t speak. There was a dull throbbing in her cheek, and she couldn’t see out of one eye.
Then he was next to her. A reassuring arm around her shoulders. He smelled so good. She let her head drop against his shoulder.
I like it when you beg.
She could still hear Anwar’s voice in her head. But he’d been shot. He wasn’t a threat to her anymore.
“You got him,” she whispered, and a warm hand smoothed her hair. Tom’s hand.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured. She relaxed. If she just had a little nap, things would be clearer when she woke up. She reached for Tom’s hand and clung to it. The gentle rocking motion was making her drowsy.
She remembered swaying to the left as the car turned a corner, and then everything faded to black.
Chapter Fifteen
The amphibious Albion-class assault ship, HMS Aylesbury, motored toward Port Zayed in Abu Dhabi at a steady eleven knots. Tom stood beside the captain on the bridge.
He’d just got off the phone with Commander Lottie, who was uncharacteristically complimentary about the retrieval of the safe house locations. Thanks to Tom’s hard work, the Allied strikes had been averted and a joint Allied special forces unit had been deployed to bring in Prince Hakeem. An international incident had been narrowly avoided, and the British SAS had emerged smelling like roses.
Tom was the hero of the hour. His place in the regiment was securely cemented for the foreseeable future. In fact, he had just been promoted to Squadron Staff Sergeant, but all he felt was relief. Relief that the crisis had been resolved, and that he was once again back on active duty—or would be after a short rest.
His biggest relief, however, was that Hannah was all right. She had two broken ribs, was dehydrated, and the cut in her cheek required stitches, but all in all had come off pretty lightly considering what could have happened.
He hadn’t had a chance to talk to her yet. As soon as they’d arrived on board the warship, he’d been conferenced into a call with the head of the armed forces and the Ministry of Defense, and she’d gone straight to the ship’s medic to be stitched up.
He desperately needed to talk to her—in private. In an hour, they’d dock in Abu Dhabi and be transferred to a flight back to London. What he had to say had to be said soon, before they got back to reality. Now that he’d admitted his feelings to himself, he couldn’t wait to tell her.
He made his way to the clinic. The metallic structure of the ship creaked and groaned around him as it ploughed its way steadily through the Persian Gulf toward its destination.
The clinic was empty of patients, save for the one bed that Hannah lay in. She looked pale and gaunt, with a dressing over her left cheek. She was dressed in a light blue gown that only served to make her look even paler and emphasized the bruises on her body. A Navy medic checked her pulse and adjusted the drip that rehydrated her.
Tom ducked through the low door. It was a good thing he’d joined the army and not the navy, he mused, judging by the height of the doors and hatches on this ship.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, positioning himself at the side of her bed. “Better, I hope?”
Her whole face lit up on seeing him. It made his heart sing and gave him hope.
“Much,” she replied cheerfully. “Now that I’ve had some fluids, I’m back to my normal self.”
He smiled. Trust her not to mention her broken ribs or the cut on her face, both which must be pretty tender.
“Could you give us some privacy?” he asked the medic who was still hovering around. The man gave a curt nod and disappeared into the adjoining office.
She looked at him expectantly.
He ground his teeth, suddenly nervous—and he was never nervous. He was the tough guy, the soldier. He didn’t get nervous. Yet here he was, quivering like a baby.
Taking her hand, he said in a rather croaky voice, “Hannah, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
She frowned, sensing his tension. “Is this the part where you say good-bye, and that we’ll never see each other again?”
“No,” he blurted out. “I wanted to ask you if there’s room for a cranky SAS officer in your life.”
At her incredulous expression, he continued. “I know I’ve kept my feelings at bay since I met you. I hope you understand that was out of necessity, not because I wanted to. Since Afghanistan and Amrain…well, I’ve come to realize how important it is not to let emotions interfere with a mission.”
He held up a hand when it looked like she might interrupt. “Wait, let me finish.”
“I was attracted to you right from the start, and now that I know you better, well, I’ve fallen in love with you. I know it seems soon, but rest assured, there’s no doubt in my mind. I want you in my life. You’re the only girl for me.”
He grinned what he expected was a stupid grin and waited for her reply. His heart was pounding, but the gleam in her eyes made him dare to hope.
“Oh Tom,” she whispered, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it. “I’ve loved you since before we even slept together that night in Jemah. I think I started falling for you when you kissed me in the sandstorm. I can’t believe you feel the same way. I mean I hoped…but I didn’t know for sure. I wanted to tell you how I felt before, but it was never the right time. Then when I got captured, all I could think about was that you’d never know how much I loved you.”
“Is that a yes?” he whispered, jokingly.
“Of course it’s a yes.” She laughed. “I would love a cranky SAS officer in my life.”
He turned serious. “You know I would still be going on missions, often very dangerous ones. Sometimes for weeks on end. Living with an SAS soldier is never easy. Are you sure you could cope with that?”
“I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
Her face was radiant, and Tom thought he was the luckiest man alive to have such a beautiful woman in his life. He leaned over and gave her a kiss, careful not to press on her damaged ribs, but she was not having any of it. She threw her hands around his neck and kissed him back enthusiastically.
“Tom Wilde,” she said, when they finally came up for air. “You are my hero, you know that?”
He smiled. “It’s what I do.”
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About the Author
Louise RoseInnes writes contemporary romance and romantic suspense. Born in sunny South Africa, Louise is a lover of sunshine and the sea, and this is often reflected in her novels. After completing a post graduate in Marketing Management, Louise headed off to the United Kingdom to gain work experience and travel. She now lives in leafy Surrey with her family, and when she’s not writing, is traipsing through the beautiful English countryside, or kayaking on the river Thames. Visit her online at louiseroseinnes.com.
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