The Stealth Commandos Trilogy

by Suzanne Forster

  He shook his head slowly. “No ... I don’t know.”

  Disappointment swept her. It’s all right, she told herself. He remembers some of it. In time he’ll remember it all.

  He looked up, still frowning intently. “You’ve told me about the rest of it—the marriage ceremony, the car wreck while we were heading for the border. I know it was the nuns who got you out of prison and gave you sanctuary. But you didn’t tell me how you finally got out of the country.”

  “That was the nuns’ doing too. They tried to find a way to help me prove my citizenship, but it got too dangerous. The country was constantly on the brink of civil war. The consulate was under siege, and foreigners, Americans in particular, were at risk. But the sisters were nothing if not resourceful. They hid me in the van of a truck that shipped cocoa, one of the country’s major exports.” She managed a smile. “It was a nightmare. Between secret police, guerrillas, and border guards, I was nearly caught several times. But, well, here I am.”

  “So you are,” he agreed softly. “Must have been some kind of hell.” He was silent a moment, and then his shoulders jerked with a self-deprecating sound, gallows laughter. “And I thought I had a rough childhood.”

  Annie was surprised at the bitter edge to his voice. “I guess we all do, don’t we? One way or another. Growing up isn’t easy.” She recalled some of Chase’s remarks about his father. He’d been delirious when he’d made them, and Annie had assumed he was having nightmares induced by the fever, but now she wasn’t so sure. “Your father was an alcoholic, wasn’t he?”

  Chase fixed his eyes on the mine shack, as though weighing the wisdom of summoning up old ghosts. Annie remained quiet, determined to respect his privacy this time.

  “Both of them drank,” he said at last. “My mother too. I guess she figured if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. My old man was a mean drunk, and every time she complained, he’d knock her around. Pretty soon, she stopped complaining. After that I never saw her without a glass of booze in her hand.”

  “It must have been hard, having to watch that.”

  “Hard—yeah, that’s one way of putting it. I did what I could to stop them, but all it got me was their undivided wrath. When they weren’t beating on each other, they ganged up on me. Some days I didn’t know if I was a kid or a punching bag. I finally took off at twelve, lived on the streets until I turned eighteen and joined the marines.”

  There was something harsh and terribly lonely etched into his profile. His jaw muscles moved with some painful memory, then tightened, locking it off. As he stared, unseeing, at the shack, Annie thought about the price he’d paid for his survival. She’d had some crushing experiences, but at least there’d been people around her who cared. He hadn’t even had that. He’d had to face it all alone.

  Now, as she studied him, one memory stuck out in her mind. He’d been delirious, ranting about his father. “Don’t kill her, you bastard,” he’d screamed, babbling an incoherent story about pulling his father off his mother during one of their fights. His mother had turned on her own ten-year-old son and attacked him for interfering. She’d beaten Chase with a broom handle, cracking three of his ribs.

  At the time Annie hadn’t been able to imagine family members inflicting that kind of pain on each other. Now she realized the story must have been true. Her throat constricted as she stared at Chase. What kind of suffering had he been subjected to? She drew in a shallow breath and held it, sensing the pain that would come when she exhaled. She wanted to say something, to bring him some comfort, but all she could think about was her own self-centered behavior. More than anything, she regretted the way she’d invaded his life and his privacy. She’d had precious little regard for anything but her own needs. She’d never once considered his feelings. Now she understood why he’d been so angry when she’d tried to turn his cabin into something resembling a home. The only association he had with homes, with family, was pain.

  “Chase,” she said, praying for the right words, “I know it’s been miserable for you since I showed up. I can see that now, and I’m sorry. I wish I’d done things differently. I wish I’d never touched a thing in your place—and when we get back, I’ll put everything exactly the way it was—”

  “Let it go,” he said almost gently, as though trying to head her off before the emotion got out of hand. “You had it in your mind to do a good thing, no matter how it turned out.” He glanced over at her, letting his dark eyes settle on her for a moment. “There’s no blame to be laid, Annie. None of this is anybody’s fault. You came to me because you didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

  Annie tried to speak and couldn’t. She hadn’t expected compassion, or anything close to it. “That’s true,” she said unsteadily. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go ... but I would have come to you anyway, Chase.”

  She hesitated, half expecting him to turn away.

  When he didn’t, she continued, needing to let out a little more of the aching truth that was stored in her heart. “It’s just that I never forgot you, Chase. You came at a time when I’d lost everything. You risked your life for me, and I guess I fell in love with you back then. You know, the way a young girl does, her first crush, hero worship, that sort of thing ... ”

  “Most young girls grow out of that,” he said, returning his gaze to the shack.

  His sudden lack of sensitivity caught her off guard. Was she imagining it, or had he closed the door before her very eyes? Even his handsome profile seemed to hold a warning now, a brooding reminder that he was a man who required distance. She felt the aching expand inside her, flaring hotly through her chest, and from what she knew of medicine, there was only one way to relieve the pressure—open the wound.

  “Trouble is,” she said, “I never did grow out of it.”

  He turned abruptly, his eyes wary. “Don’t, Annie,” he said, grainy-voiced. “Don’t say something we’ll both wish you hadn’t.”

  But Annie couldn’t stop herself. The aching swept into her throat like fire, impelling her. Even in the face of his husky warning, she whispered, “I love you, Chase. I can’t help it.”

  The wind caught whatever it was he muttered as he rose to his feet and turned away from her. Annie didn’t need to hear the words to know that she’d done it again, pushed things too far, pushed him away. She stared at his unyielding back and said his name softly, apologizing to him—and hating herself for doing it. Didn’t she have any pride at all?

  The pain felt as if it might split her chest open. She caught a hand to her rib cage, pressing hard as she struggled to her feet. If she could only get to some place where he couldn’t see her, or hear her, she might be able to hold it together.

  Her vision was blurred with tears as she walked toward the trees where the horses were tied. No one knew better than she that life had terrible lessons in store. Had she just come face-to-face with another one? There were people who couldn’t love you back, no matter how much you loved them. They were incapable. Some dislocation, some fundamental betrayal of trust, had forced them forever off the path of normal relationships. She was deeply afraid that Chase was one of those people. He had been hurt too young, and too cruelly.

  She had barely begun to breathe normally again when she heard the crackle of leaves behind her. Please, she thought, don’t let it be him.

  “Annie—”

  She closed her eyes. “Let it go, Chase,” she said, using his own words. “I don’t want to talk, I can’t—”

  “Then let me talk, for God’s sake. At least let me apologize.” His voice was thick with frustration. “Annie, I’m sorry. You caught me off guard, and I’m no good when it comes to surprises. I never did like surprises, okay?”

  He touched a wayward lock of her hair, awkwardly, as though trying to smooth it. A savage word locked in his throat. “I don’t know what the hell to say, Annie. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I don’t want to take advantage—”

  The tears she had conquered once welled up again. “Oh, Cha
se,” she sighed, abandoning every shred of dignity as she turned to him. “Then don’t say anything, dammit. Just go ahead and take advantage, why don’t you? You won’t be hurting me. I couldn’t possibly hurt any more than I do now.”

  Chase stared at her in wary disbelief. Take advantage? What was she saying? He didn’t know what to make of her, but that was nothing new. She didn’t seem to be governed by the rules that applied to the rest of the human race. Even now, with her hair blowing onto her face and her fingers clinging to the neckline of her sweater, she looked as sweet and unconquerable as the day she arrived. His chest tightened, pressing in on him, threatening to cut off his oxygen. If he’d been able to resist her before, it was mostly through luck or circumstance. But his luck was running out.

  “Do something, Chase,” she said, her lower lip quivering irresistibly. “Anything.”

  He tipped her chin up with his fingers and searched her wild angel’s face. “Okay, Missy ... I’ll do something.”

  Her eyes flashed a dazzling shade of blue, so vivid it resisted even the Wyoming darkness. “You will? You mean it?” She touched his arm, an entreaty in her voice. “Oh, please, Chase. Quick! Do it quick, before you change your mind.”

  “You are one loco woman,” he said, pulling her into his arms. He brushed his mouth over hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him, a frantic, squirming, insatiable thing. She appeared to be terrified that whatever he was offering her was going to be snatched away. He ran his hands down her back, all the way to her undulating hips, trying to gentle her some. Her mouth was so hot and sweet, he was loath to relinquish it ever, but she had other ideas. She broke the kiss.

  “Do it, Chase, please,” she said. “Throw me on the ground and do it—quick.”

  Laughter burned in his throat. He held her back a little, taking in her urgency, and increasingly aware of the tenderness building inside him. She brought out crazy impulses, powerful contradictions. Her squirming body was making him hotter than hell. He wanted to throw her to the ground and do it until they both went blind. But there was a deep, odd throb in his gut that kept him from giving in to the raw, animalistic urges.

  “No, Missy, not quick ... not that way. When we make love, it’s going to be memorable. I’m going to be slow, and I’m going to be hard, and I’m going to drive you crazy.”

  Her mouth slipped open as she stared up at him. Neither of them spoke as he drew his thumb over the trembling in her lower lip. It was a slow, electrifying moment. The silence spun out around them as if time itself had paused, as if the cosmos were stopping to catch a breath. And then Chase bent to pick her up, and a profound gasp of relief came out of her as he swung her up into his arms.

  “I think I’m already crazy,” she said, clutching the back of his shirt. “But other than that, your plan sounds wonderful.”

  He settled her on her own sleeping bag, rolled out his bag next to hers, and zipped them together. By the time he was done, she’d already taken off her clothes and crawled into the bag. She smiled expectantly as he pulled off his boots, undid his shirt and jeans, and stretched out next to her, on the top of the bag.

  “Annie,” he said patiently, stroking her hair, “there are certain things a man likes to do once he’s decided to make love to a woman, such as undress her, for example.”

  “Oh ... I could put something back on.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not the same.”

  “I could undress you.”

  “Then we’d both be crazy.”

  By the time he’d removed his shirt and jeans, Chase had decided to think of making love to Annie Wells as a challenge, not unlike some of the other challenges in his life, such as trying to get a saddle on an unbroken horse, for example. Annie was a whole lot sexier, but every bit as unpredictable. His only other thought before he crawled into the bag with her was that if Bad Luck Jack showed up, the rustler was going to have to entertain himself for a while.

  Chase felt as if he’d touched a little bit of heaven as he curved his palm to the small of Annie’s back and drew her toward him. Her skin was softer than the velvet of budding sage in the spring. It was warmer than clover basking in the sun. He brought his hand forward, letting it rest on the crest of her hip, resisting the urge to go further quickly.

  The pleasure of holding back intensified as his mind took over, sending him flashes of a man’s hand floating over sensual curves, barely skimming the surface before it touched down on quivering woman-flesh. His own body tightened hungrily as he imagined her response, her muscles tensing under his fingers, her startled moan as he stroked open her legs, feeding licks of slow, liquid fire to the inside of her thighs.

  “Chase Beaudine? Are you daydreaming at a time like this?” She snuggled up against him as if she’d been made for that purpose, rubbing her silky breasts against his chest and locking her hips to his in a way that made him want to roll her onto her back and plunge into her, fast and furious. Deep and furious. Just plain furious.

  “What else does a man like to do to a woman once he’s decided to make love to her?” Annie asked. She was alternately twining her lingers in his chest hair and playing touchy-feely games with his parted lips as though she couldn’t make up her mind which part of him to concentrate on.

  “Any number of things—” Chase had already decided to give her a taste of the quick thrills she was asking for. With no more warning than a roguish smile, he cupped her breast, palming her roughly and flicking his thumb over the tender, erect bud. “This, for instance.”

  Annie felt a deep gush of desire. The heat and pressure of his palm, the scrape of calluses abrading her naked skin, were sweetly, urgently stimulating. A dark sensation shimmered and pulled tight in the pit of her stomach, coiling so vibrantly, it took her back to the day Chase demonstrated his prowess with the whip. She could almost hear the whipcrack, the quivering snap of black lightning, in her mind.

  “But what a man really likes to do,” he said, encircling her aureole with a languid motion, “is please the woman he’s with. He likes to move along at her pace and let things work themselves out naturally.”

  Any other time Annie might have welcomed such an idea. But the way Chase was moving along, she was virtually certain that naturally also meant slowly, and the slower he went, the more her heart sped up, and the more her other parts leaped and shuddered with unbelievable urges.

  “So we’ll just take this thing in stages,” he said. “How does that sound?”

  “Fine, but could we skip a stage or two?” She drew up her leg, bumping his thigh. “I think I’m there already.”

  “Watch where you’re putting that knee,” he said, “or I might never get there.”

  Alarmed, Annie reached down to touch him, and her breathing got hung up for a second as she actually made contact. “Oh, my,” she murmured. “You’re there, Chase. You’re there and then some. Does it hurt?”

  He moaned something harsh and unintelligible. “It will, if you keep that up.”

  If Chase hadn’t been in the condition she described, he was the moment her fingers began to stroke him. He tried to ignore the silky fire of her touch as he tipped up her chin to impress upon her why they had to take it slow. “Have you forgotten that we have a logistics problem, Annie? I’m built a little on the large side, and you’re built small, remember? We tried this once before, and you weren’t in such a hurry to ‘do it’ then.”

  Her skin color deepened, and though he knew he must have seen her blush before, he couldn’t remember it being half as ravishing as now. Her fingers rediscovered his shaft as she spoke, bringing him a wrench of excitement.

  “It’s all right,” she assured him. “I’ve had some time to get used to the idea since then, and I’m positive it won’t be a problem, not even logistically. Nature knows how to handle these things. In childbirth the vagina can accommodate—”

  “Annie! We are not talking about giving birth here. We’re talking about making love. This is your first tim
e, and I want you to think back on it as a pleasant experience.”

  Her fingers fluttered and went still as though she was determined to humor him. But she also looked crestfallen, and so urgently sexy, he decided to give her what she was fearlessly determined to have. “All right, on your back, woman,” he said. “Let’s put this male organ of mine to use.”

  “Really?” She rolled over and opened her legs, a smile tugging at her expectant expression. Her arms lay at her sides, and her breasts sloped gently away from each other, their weight spilling over her slender rib cage.

  Good God, Chase thought. This woman slayed him. He’d had sex with quite a number of ladies in his life, but he’d never run into anyone remotely like Annie. She seemed completely free of the sexual tug-of-war that usually went along with lovemaking. She didn’t play the games. She was just lying there, spread-eagled and blue-eyed, waiting, wanting him for all she was worth.

  A jolt of desire rocketed through his body, slamming into his groin. If he wasn’t careful, he was not only going to give her what she wanted, he was going to give it to her the way she wanted—fast!

  He stretched himself out next to her, resisting the Bermuda Triangle of her open thighs. Once he got in there, he was a lost man, a shipwreck waiting to happen. “Annie,” he said, lifting one of the coppery tendrils that had drifted onto her cheek. “I have this unreasonable need to kiss you. So indulge me, okay?”

  She tilted her head up to meet the downward drift of his lips, her eyes closing. The way she sighed sent desire slamming through him all over again. Needing to take control, he cupped the back of her head and lifted her to him, burying his hand deep in her hair. Under the heat of his mouth, she tasted like every sweet, innocent dream, like every carnal urge he’d ever known.

  With his free hand he captured the soft swing of her breast. She was full to overflowing in his hand, as lush and heavy with juice as ripened fruit. His stomach clutched as he pleasured her, working his long fingers, savoring the thrill as she arched against him and made an odd, plaintive sound in her throat, like the mewing of a lost and hungry kitten. Her mouth opened up under his, crying out to be filled.