by Kaylea Cross
If she were smart, she would make a hasty tactical retreat and get off this shaky ground. It didn’t matter if she wanted more than sex from him, or that she liked him enough to want a relationship. It couldn’t happen.
“Stop looking at me and I’ll answer your first question.” When he did, she pondered her response for a moment, and ultimately decided just to be straight with him. “Like I told you, I came from a fairly conservative home. And so I was raised to be a good, modest girl.”
Thankfully he kept his eyes on her scrape as he answered. “Meaning, no sex before marriage.”
He didn’t sound judgmental, so she relaxed a little more. “Right. But as you know I’m the black sheep, and what’s a black sheep without a checkered past to go with it, right?”
He paused to look up at her again but she frowned and waved him away, exasperated. “If you really want me to answer the question, will you at least not look at me while I do? It’s hard enough as it is.”
“Sorry.” He went back to his work, a slight grin tugging at his mouth. God, he smelled good. “Go on.”
She cleared her throat. “There was a guy, in college. I met him in third year. By this time I was in full rebellion and independence mode, determined to blaze my own trail in the world. Of course I thought I was way smarter than my parents, and so their rules and expectation about me staying a virgin until I got married were archaic.” She paused a moment. “He was a good person and he treated me well. We’d been dating for about six months, I guess. I thought we were in love. Or rather, at least I thought I was in love with him.”
He stopped wiping at her side, which was a relief because it was stinging like hell. She fought not to squirm. “But you weren’t?” He leaned closer still and blew on the scrape gently, and the intimate action sent her thoughts up in a cloud of smoke, leaving her frantically chasing after them.
“I didn’t figure that part out until after we slept together a couple times.”
Zaid didn’t say anything else, no rebuke or smart remark, and his silent absorption of her story allowed her to continue.
“Suffice it to say, the whole experience was a massive disappointment for me. Wasn’t at all how I thought it would be. It was awkward and not pleasurable in the least.” She’d felt completely cheated, and then wondered if something was wrong with her.
Zaid eased back and resumed wiping with the antiseptic pad. “Pretty sure my first thought the exact same thing,” he said in a dry voice. “Takes guys a while to figure out what they’re doing.”
Oh, but I bet you’re more than willing to put the effort in to learn. Jaliya smiled at the top of his head. “I doubt it was anywhere near as bad as my experience.” She sighed, mentally shaking her head at her twenty-year-old self. “I felt terrible about it afterward. The guilt was way worse than I thought it would be. Part of me was convinced I’d sealed my fate in hell. The other was horrified that I’d given my virginity to a man who I not only wasn’t married to, but who I really didn’t love.”
But the worst part by far was admitting that her parents had been right about warning her not to sleep with him. She hated it when they were right and pulled the whole, we tried to warn you but you wouldn’t listen routine.
“You were how old?” Zaid asked.
“Old enough to know better. Anyway, I vowed to myself after I broke up with him that I wouldn’t have sex again until I got married. Then my dad started shoving guys he’d hand-picked at me, and I hated it. So I also swore I wouldn’t date a Muslim guy ever again.”
He glanced up, his eyes brimming with humor. “So basically you’re telling me I have no prayer.”
She smiled at him, fighting the urge to stroke her fingers through his short hair. “None.” But it was a lot of fun to imagine what it would be like with him. To imagine what it would be like to be in a relationship with him.
He made a low sound. “Well. Lucky for me, I pretty much ignore the odds when they’re stacked against me.”
A thrill raced through her at his words. It made no sense, considering what she’d just told him. But oh, she loved the idea of him wanting her enough to pursue her and not give up. Though she was having a hard enough time convincing herself to keep her distance as it was. “Is that lucky?”
His gaze flicked up and caught hers, and for a moment her heart faltered. “I think so. For the both of us. And for the record, I never said I only wanted sex. You assumed that part. It’s a bad habit of yours, apparently, assuming things. You should work on that.”
Okay, he had her there.
She opened her mouth to respond but the look on his face stopped her cold. Staring into her eyes, he took her right hand in his, and slowly raised it to his lips, killing whatever response she might have made.
Jaliya’s breathing halted at the sheer heat in his eyes, her toes curling in her boots when the warmth of his lips brushed across the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. He didn’t just want sex? How much more did he want? And didn’t he realize that was impossible, given their jobs?
His lashes lowered as he lingered there, the kisses growing longer and firmer. Her fingers twitched, restless with the need to stroke his thick, dark scruff, then dig into the muscles at his nape and drag him up to kiss her properly.
Zaid inched his lips higher, blazing a heated trail all the way up to her inner elbow. She sucked in a breath when the hot, damp stroke of his tongue lit nerve endings she hadn’t even known she possessed on fire.
But instead of continuing upward, he reversed course, retracing the path he’d made. Slowly he kissed his way back down her inner arm, each touch of his lips and the erotic caress of his tongue making her blood race and her heart pound.
By the time he reached her open palm, she was having a hard time keeping her breathing steady, her mind already having made the mental jump to picturing them in bed together and him being this attentive to all of her body.
Her utterly naked body.
She sucked in a breath as he gently sank his teeth into the base of her hand, then he kissed each fingertip before lowering her hand, still keeping hold of it. “What about now?” he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a hot mix of desire and mischief. “Still a firm no on the sex part?”
She was dizzy. Overheated. And unbearably aroused. She was tempted to push him flat on her desk and crawl on top of him. “Still no.” It sounded like she had severe asthma.
Zaid laughed softly and shook his head once. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
No. And she loved his version of trying. A lot. She wanted him to do it more, only on her face and down her neck to every part of her that was now aching and throbbing way worse than the scrapes he’d just cleaned. Except she didn’t want just sex.
There had to be more than that between them before she would ever consider sleeping with him. She might have broken free of her conservative upbringing, but casual sex would never be okay for her. Maybe it was partly her religion, and maybe it was just the morals ingrained in her from her upbringing, but that’s who she was.
Clearing her throat, she looked down at the floor and changed the subject. “I had fun tonight. Thanks for inviting me.” It hadn’t been a smart move on her part, to participate with them on a social level and muddy the waters in what should be a strictly professional relationship, but guess what? She wasn’t perfect. And she didn’t regret a moment of it.
“Thanks for coming.”
Her eyes darted up to his. Coming.
That’s all she could think about right now, him making her do just that, and her returning the favor. God, how was she ever going to live with herself for holding back when she wanted him this much?
A sharp knock at the door made her jolt and pull her hand from Zaid’s. The door opened and her boss popped his head in. “Hey.” He looked from her to Zaid and back again. “Any progress on those files yet?”
“Not yet.” Not with Zaid making her work ethic fly out the window and setting her entire body on fire. “Any luck finding out abou
t the shooting?”
“Got the names of the shooters, but still trying to figure out whether they’re linked to The Jackal.” He nodded at the pile of folders on her desk. “Text me if you find anything.” After shooting Zaid a hard look, he left.
Zaid waited a few seconds to make sure he wasn’t coming back, then stroked a hand over the side of her face and over her hair. “I’d better let you get to it.”
“Yes,” she murmured, disappointment flooding her. It was definitely best that he leave now, though, before she did something else she would regret.
“Good luck. See you tomorrow sometime?”
She wasn’t sure how much longer the agency would keep her here at Bagram. As soon as they found her team a secure location in Kabul, they’d be moving. “Sure.”
His hand tightened around a fistful of hair for a moment, then he leaned in and kissed her softly. Slowly. As though savoring the feel of her lips beneath his, until she swayed toward him and had to put a hand on his shoulder for balance.
His thick, heavy arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight to him. Giving her the hug she’d been craving so badly. She let out a shuddering sigh and cuddled in close, savoring the sense of instant security.
He rubbed his bearded cheek against hers, gave a soft growl that sent shivers through her. “I want you so damn much,” he whispered fervently.
She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to his, savoring the faint scratch of his short beard. I want you too. So. Damn. Much. But I can’t give you what you want unless there’s more.
Either way, the logical part of her brain knew she couldn’t have him. Not if she wanted her heart intact when he went back stateside in a few weeks’ time.
Without warning he pulled away, but his gaze was so full of heat and need it sent an arrow of pain through her. “Good night.”
She forced a smile while her entire body screamed at her to take what he was offering. “Good night.”
When he walked out and the door closed behind him, it felt like the room became a vacuum, sucking the air from her lungs. Her knees gave out and she dropped into her chair, staring sightlessly at the mound of paperwork in front of her. She felt cold and…empty now that he was gone.
She blew out a shaky breath. How the hell was a man like that still single? What was wrong with all the women back in D.C.? “They’re either stupid or crazy,” she muttered to herself, and forced herself to reach for the first file.
No, she was crazy, for not taking what was right in front of her. Even though it would be smarter to steer clear of that temptation.
One thing was for certain: if Zaid were hers, she’d never let him go.
****
Another day, another enemy eliminated.
The Jackal paused at the base of the back steps to his home and gazed upward. Warm light spilled from his son’s window that overlooked the garden. And suddenly he was both terrified and exhausted.
Because of the mounting pressure from the investigation about him and the proximity of the threat bearing down on him and his network, he’d been forced to intensify his response. Taking out two targets in as many days was risky, but necessary if he wanted to keep his identity hidden from authorities. Anyone who posed a risk of exposure would be eliminated immediately.
He stared up at the bedroom windows, his heart heavy and aching. His wife and son had no idea what he’d done and would continue to do in order to secure the surgery.
Just a little longer. Please. Just let me stay hidden in plain sight a little longer.
The phone in his pocket vibrated, startling him. His heartbeat quickened when he saw the area code of the unfamiliar number, and he walked through the wrought-iron gate into the garden before answering. “Hello?” Was this it? The news he’d been waiting, praying for?
“My friend, how are you?” a familiar voice said in accented English.
For a moment he couldn’t believe his ears. This had to be it. There was no other reason for this man to contact him personally. “I’m anxious to get my son better.”
“I know you are. That’s why I’m calling.”
He held his breath, waiting. Please…
“I’m told you’re under siege there. That must be hard.”
Not surprising that the man knew about what was going on. He had spies everywhere, even here in Kabul. “Yes. I don’t know how much longer I have before—”
“I’ve found a surgeon who is willing to perform the surgery with his team.”
The Jackal squeezed his eyes shut. He rubbed at the sudden sting there, fighting back tears of relief. “That’s good news. But we don’t have a donor.”
“I’ll find one. Children die every day all over the world. It’s just a matter of finding one we can use. I have people keeping their ears to the ground for us.”
He shook his head, his voice hoarse. The lack of control terrified and infuriated him. “How? How do I know I can trust you with this?”
“Because good or bad, I’m a man of my word. Ask anyone who’s done business with me, and they’ll tell you.”
“I already did.” He’d done it way before he’d agreed to this dangerous arrangement. But desperation drove people to do things they would never dream themselves capable of. He was living proof.
A low chuckle. “Of course. Well. Have you got the money?”
He’d been told that given the situation, if he was short money when the time came, the head of the Veneno Cartel would likely pay the rest himself. But he wasn’t counting on that. “Most of it.”
“Ah. The shipments are flowing nicely. I’m told that almost ninety-percent of the product is making it through the border and onto the ships.”
“Yes. And I have more coming soon.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I love doing business with you, Fahim.”
He flinched at hearing his name said aloud and automatically looked around him. Not that anyone standing nearby would be able to overhear the conversation, but if anyone was monitoring the cellular signal, they might have heard it. And people were hunting him.
A long inhalation followed, as though the man on the other end of the line was taking a drag of something. Not drugs. Fahim had been told that El Escorpion never touched any of his product, but that he had a penchant for Cuban cigars. “How’s your boy doing?”
“He’s weakening.” And it killed Fahim to watch it.
“I’m sorry to hear it.” He sounded so sincere, but then El Escorpion had children of his own, so maybe he meant it. “Go. Spend some time with him before he goes to sleep. I just wanted to let you know I’m working on it on my end. As soon as something comes up, I’ll let you know.”
But what he’d really called for was to check to make sure The Jackal hadn’t been identified yet. At the end of the day, this was merely a business arrangement for El Escorpion. Where for Fahim, it was his son’s life. “Thank you.”
“You take care, my friend.”
My friend.
Fahim set his jaw and slipped the phone back into his pocket, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. He wasn’t El Escorpion’s friend and never would be, even if he managed to conjure the miracle of saving Fahim’s son.
No, this was business, nothing more, and it was as ruthless as the drug trade he was now too deeply ensconced in to escape. He was only useful as long as he kept the opium flowing to Mexico.
For his son, he would ensure that it did.
Fahim wiped at his eyes to hide all traces of fear and sadness from his face before climbing the back steps and letting himself in through the kitchen door. His boots were quiet on the tiled floor as he made his way to his son’s bedroom.
When he reached the doorway his wife and son both looked up at him with tired smiles. The boy was in his mother’s lap, his dark head resting on her shoulder as she read him a book.
“Ah, that one again?” Fahim asked with an indulgent smile.
“I love it,” Beena rasped out from beneath the oxygen mask. His face was ash
en, a bluish tinge to it, his little chest laboring as he struggled to breathe.
Fahim’s heart cried out in agony at the unfairness of it, but he kept his smile firmly in place. “Would you like me to read it to you tonight?”
Beena nodded, his eyes brightening.
“All right.” He traded places with his wife, pausing to grasp her hand as she passed him. She stopped and looked down at him, concern darkening her eyes for a moment, but he merely squeezed her hand once and released her.
He lifted Beena into his lap, anguish slicing through him as the slight weight of his son’s too-thin body snuggled into him. Such trust and innocence. Relying on his father to provide for and protect him.
Fahim would not fail him.
Clearing his throat, Fahim started the story from the beginning, his mind on his son and the people who threatened to unravel it all.
The entire American team had to be dealt with. He wanted to do it immediately but killing them now would look far too suspicious so soon on the heels of the other two assassinations, even if he staged it to look like an accident somehow. So no matter how he hated to wait, he’d have to.
Just a little longer.
Chapter Twelve
“Blade one in position. Moving in on target.”
The silent tension in the cramped room sharpened at the SF team leader’s words. It had been two days since the assassination in downtown Kabul, and Jaliya’s team had uncovered yet another target to raid.
She leaned closer to the computer to watch the live feed from the soldier’s helmet-mounted camera, showing the desolate nighttime landscape in the mountains outside of Jalalabad in neon green. Sergeant Bowen was his name.
She’d met him several times now, and he and a few of his teammates had been in the room during the game night with FAST Bravo last week. She knew his face, what color his eyes were, and that he wore a titanium wedding band engraved with a message from his wife.
It was so much harder to watch an operation unfold in real time when she knew people in the unit involved.