Hot Soldier Down (The Blackjacks Book 3)
Page 7
Annie shivered against him. “Do you like your job?”
“Yeah, actually. I do. Especially when I get to snuggle with a hot babe. Relax and try to get some sleep.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, not at all. There’s nothing we can do but ride it out.”
“There’s no way I’ll ever sleep with bullets flying outside my window.”
Humor tinged his voice. “You’d be surprised. If you get tired enough, you can sleep just about anyplace, anytime, including the middle of a war. Besides, this isn’t that bad. There aren’t rockets and mortars exploding all around us.”
“Gee, that’s reassuring.”
A silent chuckle vibrated his chest. She spooned against him, grateful for the solid feel of him plastered reassuringly from the back of her neck to her ankles. As long as she was with him, she’d be safe. He’d promised to take care of her, and he would keep that promise.
“I have to say, you feel a lot nicer to hole up with than any of my guys.”
“You mean you cuddle with them like this, too?”
A snort of laughter escaped him. “Hardly. I may be close to my guys, but we’re not that close.”
“That’s a relief.”
The moment of humor subsided slowly as they enjoyed a lull in the shooting.
After a particularly prolonged and loud exchange of gunfire, Annie whispered, “Tom, are you asleep?”
“No.”
“Do you mind if we talk some? Maybe it’d help keep my mind off the shooting.”
“What would you like to talk about?”
She thought about it for a second. “You said the name Jackie in your sleep. Who’s he?”
Tom’s voice was ice. “She. Pick another topic.”
Wow. She must have hit a raw nerve, there. “You seemed upset by your dream. I’m just trying to look out for your health and well-being, here.”
“So you’re a psychologist, now, are you?” he challenged.
“It doesn’t take a Ph.D. to know when something’s upsetting somebody,” she retorted.
He exhaled hard. “You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?”
“Nope.”
His voice went dangerously calm. “Jackie is a woman who betrayed me and my team. She led us into a trap, and her father—a world-class drug smuggler—and his cronies shot the hell out of us. They killed one of my guys, ended the career of another, and damn near killed the rest of us. We all got out of there with multiple gunshot wounds.”
“Was she beautiful?”
“Now why would you ask a question like that?” he challenged.
“Call it female intuition.”
“Yeah. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. I think every guy on the team was half in love with her.”
Including him? Annie gulped. Wow. Being betrayed by someone he fancied himself in love with must have been awful.
She laid her hand over his where it rested on her stomach. He’d suffered so much in his career. It was too much for his country to ask of him. If only she’d known him before she had to make that decision over the jungle. Maybe she’d have chosen differently. And maybe he wouldn’t have been hurt.
Or maybe, a reasonable corner of her brain argued, they would all have died.
For all she knew, a stray bullet could ricochet into this room and she or Tom might die tonight. Nothing was certain in war. She cast about for another topic that would distract her.
“Okay. Here’s another one for you, Tom. How did you get the nickname Hoss?”
He grunted. “We’re not going there, no matter how scared you are.”
“Aw, come on. There must be story behind a name like that. Are you named after the television cowboy?”
“No, and I’m not going to tell you any more about it. It’s not fit for a lady’s ears.”
She couldn’t argue with that. If he thought she was a lady, far be it from her to disabuse him of the notion.
He muttered, “Okay, it’s my turn to ask a question.”
“I suppose that’s fair,” she replied.
“Why this career?”
“You mean why did I join the Air Force or why did I go diplomatic corps?”
“Both.”
“I joined the Air Force to get away from home. I come from a teeny little town in Iowa. I was expected to marry my childhood sweetheart, become something safe and traditional like a schoolteacher, have some kids, and die there of old age or boredom, whichever came first.”
“So you rebelled against all of that?”
“I rebelled against my father. He’s a retired army colonel and controlled every detail of my life. He only had daughters, and he always complained about not having a son to follow in his footsteps. I suppose on some level I joined the military in hopes of gaining his approval.”
“And did you?”
Annie sighed. “Not hardly. Girls don’t belong in the military according to him.”
“Do you like it?”
She laughed. “I like roller coasters.”
“Come again?”
“I’m an adrenaline junkie,” she confessed.
He commented dryly, “Except when you’re getting shot at.”
His words were a cold slap across her face. And except when she was faced with life-and-death decisions like the one that nearly killed him. They needed to change the subject.
She said lightly, “It’s my turn, again. So, tell me about yourself, Tom.”
“What do you want to know?” he asked cautiously.
“Where are you from?”
“Norman, Oklahoma.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“One of each.”
“You’re the oldest,” she declared.
“How could you tell?”
Annie laughed. “You’re joking, right? You’ve got responsible eldest sibling written all over you. Let’s see. What else?” She adopted what she hoped was a breezy tone. “Are you married?”
“Nope.”
“Ever been married?”
“Nope.”
“Did you ever want to be?”
He answered indignantly, “You don’t have to ask that in the past tense. It’s not like I’m too old to get married, you know.”
“Sorry. Do you want to be married someday?”
“Maybe someday. I can’t see doing it with my present career. It’s not fair to ask a woman to love a guy who may die tomorrow.”
That silenced her. A girl would be foolish, indeed, to fall in love with a guy who might die tomorrow. But a guy like that wasn’t bad to be with on the floor of a dark room, in the middle of the night, while a revolution raged outside the window.
CHAPTER SIX
Sunlight shone in Tom’s eyes, waking him. He shifted his arm under a strange weight and realized it was Annie’s head. He ached from head to foot, as if he’d been worked over with a baseball bat. He really was going soft in his old age. Sleeping on a floor had never left him feeling quite this lousy before. For the first time in his career, doubt coiled in his gut. Was he going to be able to get his team and Annie out of this one alive?
He suppressed the thought violently. Thinking like that would certainly get them killed. There was no room for hesitation in his world, no mercy for those who looked back over their shoulders. They would make it out…somehow.
But meanwhile he felt like death warmed over.
He must’ve groaned because Annie popped up on her elbow beside him. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m just a little sore this morning.”
“I know the perfect cure for that.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She started to sit up but stopped partway. “Is it safe to sit up now?”
“The shooting stopped a couple hours ago. All the toy soldiers have gone to bed. They won’t come out again until tonight.”
“Tonight? You mean we have to go through that hell again?”
“’Fraid so.”
“No such luck. I had this in mind.” Her hands settled on him, and she began kneading the muscles of his shoulder and neck.
His whole left side went warm and relaxed under her touch, and his eyes drifted closed. He pushed away the guilt of being safe and comfortable while his men were out there dodging bullets. “I’ve died and gone to Heaven. You could do this to every inch of me and I wouldn’t complain.”
Her hands paused for a moment, but she didn’t answer.
He opened one eye to peer at her. There it was. That rosy shade her cheeks got when she was embarrassed. She looked down, concentrating on massaging his palm where it protruded from the cast. Who’d have guessed a hand was such an erogenous zone? But as her fingertips slid between the bases of his fingers and drifted across his palm, the tingly friction definitely influenced other parts of his anatomy.
“How can you be so sure there’s going to be more shooting tonight?” she asked.
“Because the war has started. After you fell asleep, there were bright flashes from the direction of the coast highway. The rebels undoubtedly shelled it last night, which means the city’s surrounded and the government’s cornered. The army’s going to have to engage the rebels now. There’s nowhere else to run.”
Her hands stilled on his ribs, which was just as well. He’d die before he let on how ticklish he was.
“Then there’s nowhere else for us to run, either.”
He shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he didn’t quite feel. “I’ve been in tighter fixes. St. George has a large civilian population for us to hide in. Besides, the rebels need the people’s support. They’re not going to start killing women and children anytime soon.”
“So where does that leave you?”
That was a damn good question, and he didn’t much like the possible answers. He opened one eye to peer up at her lazily as she started massaging his other arm. “Lying low.”
She didn’t respond to that. He tried to relax under her soothing touch; he had to get control of his jitters. The massage reminded him of having a cat perched on him, kneading him with its paws. The only things missing were claws. Annie’s were sheathed for now. At least, they were going to be until he asked her what he was about to.
“Annie, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Name it.”
“I want you to go out and do some reconnoitering.”
Her hands froze. “Me? I thought that’s what your guys were supposed to do.”
“They can’t get into the American Embassy unnoticed.”
“Neither can I. I’m probably a fugitive by now.”
“We’ll disguise you.”
“I dunno…”
Normally he wouldn’t remotely consider sending out one of his men who was in a mental state like hers. But this wasn’t a normal situation. Everything about this mission was messed up.
“Trust me. It’ll be all right,” he said soothingly.
“Why do you need me to go to the embassy?”
“To find out if we can count on the American government to help us get out of here. Plus, I need to send my complete mission report to the States.”
“You can’t use any of your fancy gizmos to transmit it stateside?”
“The material in it is too sensitive to risk having it intercepted.”
“I don’t think I can do it undetected….”
“Sure you can. I’ll show you how. Do you have a dress or something that a local woman might wear?”
“Yes.”
“Go put it on. And if you’ve got a push-up bra, put it on, too. Maybe that red lace number from yesterday.”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“Just do it,” he muttered. “I’ll explain when you get back. Oh, and bring me your passport.” He turned to dig in his rucksack. “While you’re at it, put on a little too much makeup!” he called over his shoulder.
He found what he was looking for and stretched out on the sofa to wait till Annie returned. He could still feel her hands sliding over him in that knowing way. It was almost spooky having a woman be so comfortable with his body. He never stuck around long enough in relationships for that kind of familiarity to develop.
It was seductive for damn sure. He could sink into that easy comfort with nary a struggle, just like quicksand. Annie would trap him the same way—all smooth and nonthreatening on the surface, but deadly dangerous to stumble into and impossible to get out of.
He blinked when he realized she was standing beside the couch, giving him a quizzical look. He jumped up, startled, and winced when ice picks of pain stabbed his legs.
“Okay, Sherlock, now what?” she asked.
A floral-print dress made of a clingy fabric swirled around her figure, caressing her curves outrageously. Perfect. He grinned. “Elementary, my dear Watson. Unbutton your dress.”
“Now look here--”
He cut her off briskly. “We need to work on this trust thing, Annie. I’m not going to molest you.” He held out his hand. “Give me your passport.”
“You can forget me undressing for you.”
He raised a single eyebrow and gave her his most intimidating glare. “I said there won’t be any hanky-panky. Now hand over your passport and get going on those buttons.”
She gave him the document, eyeing him suspiciously. While he folded two thin sheets of paper and slipped them between the pages of her passport, she reached for the top button in the row that traveled the length of her dress. He tore his gaze away from the erotic sight of her fumbling at the tiny buttons, the cloth falling away tantalizingly beneath her fingers.
He picked up a self-adhesive gauze bandage and spoke as casually as he could around the thickness in his throat. “My report’s inside your passport. There are two copies of it. One is for Ambassador Kettering, here in Gavarone. The other one needs to go by diplomatic pouch or secure fax to the address on the top of the page. It’s Eyes Only stuff so don’t hand it over to any old clerk, okay?”
“Handling classified documents is part of my job, Tom. I know what to do.” Annie’s fingers fell away from her front, and the dress gaped open.
Hot blood surged in his groin, and his pants suddenly felt tight. The thin cotton fabric of her dress clung to every nuance of her body, and a vertical slash of tanned stomach promised unholy delights. His zipper grated irritatingly against his throbbing flesh. Dammit. This was business. “Lift your arms, please.”
Surely his voice didn’t sound as hoarse to her as it did to him. He cleared his throat.
Annie complied in silence.
He took a step forward. It brought him close enough to smell the fragrance of a frilly soap clinging to her skin. “I’m going to tape your passport to you, now.”
Even forewarned, she jumped when his palms contacted her ribs. Ignoring her widened pupils and her sharp little intake of breath, he wound the bandage around her, securing the passport just below her bra.
“If the police arrest you and find this, stick to your cover. You’re an American whose husband was hurt in a climbing accident. You’re going to the embassy to arrange safe passage out of Gavarone. You’re worried about the rebels and have hidden your passport so it won’t get stolen.”
“What if they look inside it and find your report?”
“It’s encoded. Tell them it’s secret directions from a treasure map, and your husband’s paranoid that someone will get to the loot before he can go back for it. That’s a weird enough story they ought to buy it.”
Annie smiled, momentarily relaxing beneath his hands. Man, she felt good. He’d like to keep right on touching her, all over her body. He dragged his unwilling hands away from her.
While Annie buttoned up her dress, he pulled his burned phone out of hi
s pocket. His hands weren’t quite steady when he reached for her neckline.
She started to recoil, then stilled herself. “Now what?”
“I want you to take this.” He tucked the phone into her cleavage. The backs of his fingers brushed the swelling fullness of her breast. It was as smooth and tempting as he’d imagined it would be. His palms itched to cup her breasts in their entirety.
Discipline, dude. Discipline!
Yeah, right.
“So that’s why you wanted me to wear a push-up bra!” She sounded inordinately pleased with her powers of deductive reasoning.
He forced his mind to the business at hand. “Exactly. When you come back here, I’ll be watching for you out the window. If you’re followed, I’ll call you.”
“With what phone?” she asked. “I have yours.”
“I’ll use your cell phone.” He continued, “The phone will ring twice then hang up. If that happens, keep walking. Lose the tail and then come back to this street and try again. I’ll keep calling you until you’re clean. Got it?”
She looked alarmed, but her voice was reasonably calm. “Got it.”
“If you get into trouble, hit the call back button. I’ll call my team, and they’ll track the burner phone. Sit tight wherever you are, and they’ll find you. It has a homing feature in it.”
“What will you do if you get into trouble? You need your phone more than I do.” She reached into her bra for the device.
He put his hand over hers, trapping it against her breast. “You keep it. I insist. I can take care of myself.”
“But…”
“I know what’s best, remember?”
She scowled at him, but thankfully didn’t argue.
“Now for the pièce de résistance.” He pulled a bushy black wig out from behind him.
Annie took one look at it and burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? I’d look like a hooker in that thing. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb!”
“Put it on and then go into the bathroom and brush it out. Maybe pull it back into a ponytail or put it up. Do some girl stuff to it.”
“Not even girl stuff’s gonna help that rug. Where did you get it?”
“Mexico. And it’s a perfectly fine wig. It’s saved my butt more than once, I’ll have you know.”