An Unconditional Surrender (In Love and War Anthology)

by Candace Irvin

  Just like that, the fear surged back into his gut. The cold, nauseating terror. Youssef. She’d sworn the bastard hadn’t raped her, but what about Rurik and the rest of his thugs? While Dani was older than Rurik’s perverted tastes, rape wasn’t about desire. It was about a twisted need for power. A need Rurik had nursed since the siege of Sarajevo years before. Jack sucked in his breath, his own blistering rage. God as his witness, if he could turn back time, he would—and this time, he’d make damned sure that bullet landed deep inside Rurik Teslenko’s brain. Jack stared at the bruises mottling Dani’s face and neck and forced the words past his bile. “Dani, I know you said Youssef didn’t touch you…like that. But something happened here. Something more than a vicious beating. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Hell, he could see it in the way she’d wrapped the chain to his dog tags around her hand for the umpteenth time. Only this time, her knuckles turned white. Her fingertips followed. He swallowed the searing acid as it threatened to choke him.

  “Dani…what happened?” When she didn’t answer, he stepped closer. The folk music he’d switched on to provide cover for their conversation grated through him. He’d have given anything to strangle that shrieking accordion long enough for him to gauge the whisper of her slow, studied breaths. To know if she needed him to pull her into his arms and hold her as tightly and as desperately as he’d ached to hold her since the moment he’d spotted her in that kitchen. Dammit, why wouldn’t she look at him? “Honey, you can tell me anything. You have to know that.”

  She finally raised her gaze…and he damned near died.

  “Can I?”

  Those two tortured words ushered in a complete and profound understanding for her father he’d never thought he’d hold. “Yes.”

  “I screwed up.”

  “How?”

  For several moments, he didn’t think she was going to answer. As he watched the emotions churning through her eyes, he wasn’t sure if she could. But then she sucked in her breath and spoke. “When I woke this morning, I was on the floor. Where, I can’t be sure, my brain was still fogged from whatever they injected me with. Anyway, the first thing I did was reach for my watch, but it was gone. I had a backup transmitter in my shoe, though. I should have gone for it. I might have made it.” She sucked in her breath again. This time it came out in a rush. “Dammit, I was trained to go for the alarm first—because there might not be another chance. I should have tried.”

  “Why didn’t you?” But he knew. The blonde. The one the Swede had come for. The one Youssef had raped and murdered. Rurik’s complication. The tears welling in her eyes confirmed it.

  “I heard a girl. The same girl from the clinic. Her name was Lina. She was sobbing on one of the beds, half naked.” His heart burned as Dani stopped to scrub the tears from her battered cheek. She swallowed hard. “Youssef was all over her. He was…raping her.”

  “You went for her instead of the transmitter.”

  She nodded dully. “Yes.”

  “Dani—” He caved in to the need burning through him and reached for her, only to clench his fingers into a fist as she jerked away from his touch. From him.

  “Dammit, did you listen to what I said? Because of me that SOS was never sent. Because of me, a young girl was beaten more severely than she ever would have been beaten. I was too drugged up to help. Youssef was livid with me for interrupting. If I hadn’t passed out, I have no doubt he would have strangled me to death. Instead, he turned his rage on her.”

  Jack forced the latest wave of his own rage from his mind and his heart and locked it deep in his gut. Stored it. Nursed it. Youssef would pay for what he’d done and soon. But not now. For now, he had Dani to deal with. Her grief and her guilt. He ignored her subconscious retreat as he lowered himself to the bed. Somehow, he kept from reaching out as she wrapped the chain about her fingers once again. Though her fingers were bloodless now, he knew that chain was the only thing holding the rest of her together. “Dani, what happened to Lina? Where is she?”

  She kept her gaze fused to his tags. “I don’t know. Rurik, Zorah, Youssef, none of them will tell me what happened. But I haven’t seen her since. The other girls are too terrified to talk to me. Youssef threatened to beat them if they did. I had hopes Lina was in the dairy barn. Maybe to keep her separate as she healed. But given why you’re here, it’s looking unlikely.”

  She was right. But until they had evidence to the contrary, she couldn’t be sure. Neither could he.

  “I’ll talk to Rurik tomorrow. I may be able to get him to tell me what happened to her. Either way, you and Lina may have spared the other girls from Youssef’s wrath. The bastard might have threatened to beat the remaining girls if they talked to you, but I don’t think he’ll dare because I also overheard Rurik ordering Youssef and the rest of the thugs to leave the girls alone. I got the feeling Rurik’s worried about something. He may need the money to pull off the embassy attempt.” Why else had Rurik accepted three hundred dollars? Dani was worth six, seven hundred to the man at least. “Dani, did you hear me?”

  She nodded numbly. Still, she wouldn’t tear her gaze from his tags. And her fingers. They’d progressed beyond white. The tips were turning gray. Unwilling to jeopardize her circulation, he reached out, gently but insistently unraveling the chain. That done, he risked reaching for her again, sliding his arms around her shoulders to pull her close. It was a mistake.

  She flinched. This time, the recoil wasn’t even subtle. The message was even clearer. Don’t touch. But at least his blunder allowed her to pull herself together. She drew in her breath and waited patiently, if stiffly, for him to release her. Though it cut deeply, he did, abandoning the bed as she pulled her knees up to tuck them beneath her chin. Her stare evaded his once again, sliding out across the room. Nothing had changed between them. Why had he even hoped it could?

  Habit? After all these months—hell, after all these years—it wasn’t going to change. She wasn’t going to change. She didn’t want to. It was time he accepted it. Dani would never see him as anything but the usurper of her father’s affections. God knows he’d tried to change that view eleven months ago. Well, he’d failed. Hell, she didn’t even know he wasn’t with Delta anymore. From her question about her father, she had no idea he hadn’t even seen the man but once in the past six months. But that pointed to something even more startling. She hadn’t seen the man either.

  The rift between Dani and her father was finally complete.

  He might never have been able to capture this woman’s heart, but he did understand it. He understood her. After the chilling discovery he’d stumbled across last month through an old war buddy of her father’s, he understood Danielle Stanton better than she understood herself. If he confessed that he wasn’t with Delta, she’d demand to know the rest. What then? She was already hanging by a thread over Lina. There was no way he could bring himself to sever it. If he did, he might lose more than the promise of her heart this time.

  He could lose her life.

  He shoved his hand into the cargo pocket of his fatigues as he worked to ease the tightening in his chest as well as his growing private terror. Despite the accordion still wailing out from the tiny radio, he caught her sharp intake as he retrieved the open pack of Marlboros he’d brought along for the job.

  “When did you start smoking?”

  He tapped the base of the pack on his palm. “I don’t. Sgt. Jackson’s trying to quit.” And as far as Rurik was concerned, Sgt. Jackson had just finished one hell of a steamy romp. Might as well use the misconception to strengthen their covers. He shoved his hand in his pocket again, withdrawing the unopened pack. He flipped the cigarettes to Dani, pointing to the sealed cellophane wrapper as she caught it. “That one contains my emergency transmitter. I’ll talk to Rurik about your clothes. Maybe we’ll get lucky and your shoes and watch will show with them. Until then, hang on to those. If we get separated and things go south, open the pack and activate it. Hamid will hear the signal and sen
d backup. He’s loitering less than a mile away with some distant relatives of his—a band of Roma gypsies.”

  She tossed the pack back. “I can’t.”

  Dammit, they’d already established whose mission had priority. As abhorrent as Rurik’s slave racket was, Dani’s case held three innocent young lives in the immediate balance, if they located the missing soldiers, five. His held hundreds, perhaps thousands. That meant she followed his orders until they figured out how to get out of this mess, not the other way around. He sighed.

  “Relax, will you? I’m not defying Gage the Great. I’m being realistic.” She dropped her knees, revealing the T-shirt and shorts he’d loaned her. “Where exactly should I hide the pack? Between my breasts?” She was right. With her bra missing, the thin fabric of his shirt clung to every generous curve—right down to the nipples that stiffened beneath his errant stare.

  His palms betrayed him, itching in memory. Unnerved, he tapped out a cigarette from the pack in his hands and retrieved his lighter before the rest of his body decided to follow the insurrection. The moment she gasped, he realized his error.

  “You kept that?”

  Talk about getting caught red-handed. His fingers tightened about the silver casing before he could stop them. He loosened them as he shrugged. “Why not? It comes in handy from time to time.” He flipped open the lighter she’d presented to him upon his graduation from West Point and lit the cigarette, then tucked the lighter firmly home. “Besides, I heard it was the thought that counts.”

  And they both knew what she’d been thinking when she’d bought it, didn’t they? So had her father. He could still hear the man bellowing at her through the door of his study. Dani turned as beet-red as she had the moment she’d marched out—a barely seventeen-year-old slip of a girl, but the very picture of Betrayed Woman. At least this time she wasn’t glaring eternal hatred. “I’m just…surprised you still have it.”

  So was he. Other than that sultry night a decade later, it was the only gift she’d ever given him. He’d thrown the thing in the trash a hundred times since, only to fish it right back out. Jack shoved the cigarette between his lips and punished himself for each retrieval with a deep, searing drag. He knew from experience it would be enough for the stench of tobacco smoke to cling to him for hours. If only Dani had been as experienced as she’d pretended to be the first time they’d kissed…with cigarettes and with men. Who knows? He might have ended up with her on graduation day instead of the lighter.

  Right. He spun around to the dresser and settled the smoldering cigarette over the lip of the ashtray Rurik had dropped off. By the time he turned back to the bed, she was lost in the distant past, too. In the night they’d met and the day after. He doubted she’d ever forget that first weekend. Eleven months ago, he had thought she’d forgiven him, though. Worse, he actually thought she’d cared about him. But she hadn’t.

  Though they’d parted in a torrid rush in his driveway, he hadn’t minded. Mainly because all the way in to Ft. Bragg, he’d reveled in the fact that despite that amazing shower, he could still smell Dani’s scent on him. He’d savored the fragrance all morning, along with the memory of her touch. They’d made plans for dinner that night, but he couldn’t wait. By noon, he’d decided to stop by Dani’s temporary office across post and surprise her with lunch. Unfortunately, another Stanton had opted to head down the hall for an impromptu chat. At the time, it had seemed prudent to forgo lunch with Captain Stanton and dine with the general. In retrospect, it had turned out to be a lousy decision. By the time evening rolled around, Dani had changed her mind about more than dinner. She’d decided to pass on him.

  He still couldn’t believe she’d chalked up the hottest night of his life to a case of cold chemistry.

  Adrenaline. Too bad he couldn’t lay claim to the hormone. Not then. Those erotic hours they’d spent together on his bed had been anything but a byproduct of the flush of a successfully completed mission. Not for him, anyway. He’d long since accepted that this heightened awareness and fiery rush that scorched through him whenever Danielle Stanton was around didn’t have a thing to do with some chemical pulsing through his blood. Well, he was just going to have to get over it, wasn’t he?

  She obviously had. For a few blinding moments at that door, he’d actually believed differently—until he’d pulled away and watched as the adrenaline had worn off—in her. Hell, even now Dani’s body language screamed the truth. The woman he’d tried so hard to purge from his mind and his memories these past months would give anything to be anywhere but here with him. He was sure of it when he retrieved the lighter and pack of cigarettes and stepped up to set them on the nightstand beside her.

  As she had when he’d tried to hold her earlier, she flinched. Suddenly, he was sick of it. Of them. The past, the present. This entire mission. She wasn’t supposed to be part of his present anymore. And he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be hanging around on the fringes of this woman’s life fantasizing about a future. He’d gotten out of the Army to get away from Dani and her overbearing father. Yet here he was, right back where it had all started a decade before, trapped.

  Well, he’d had enough. “You ready to turn in?”

  She jerked her gaze to his. Blinked. “Uh…sure.”

  “Good.” He grabbed the strap to his duffel, hefting the bag from the bed and dumping it on the floor with more force than he’d intended. The duffel skidded to a stop beside the dresser. He ignored the startled brow that arched in his direction and headed across the room, the hollow thumps of his combat boots counting off the paces to his pending incarceration.

  He slapped the light switch and darkness flooded the room. His night vision adjusted to the shadows and sliver of moonlight bleeding in from the single bare window as he returned to the bed to remove his boots and socks. He dumped them atop his duffel and withdrew his 9 mm from the holster at his hip, chambering a round before extending it butt first toward Dani who until that moment, once again appeared to be doing her damnedest to look anywhere but at him.

  “Tuck this under the pillow.”

  There wasn’t much left to do while she complied but loosen his holster and belt and start in on the buttons beneath. He took a deep breath as Dani stood to yank the quilt to the foot of the bed, then he tugged his trousers down as well, skivvies and all. He dumped the fatigues on top of his boots before he could change his mind and stepped up to the mattress.

  “Wh-what are you doing?”

  He glanced across the bed. Despite the shadows, there was enough moonlight for him to make out the shock in her face. That, he’d anticipated. But not the suspicion. And, dammit, it burned. Especially when she’d made it crystal clear through every one of those emasculating cringes that she meant what she said when they’d parted a year ago. She felt nothing for him. He snagged the sheet from her hand and snapped it to the foot of the bed. “What’s it look like? I’m getting into bed. So are you.”

  “Not like that you’re not.”

  “Dani—”

  “Don’t ‘Dani’ me, buster. You’re naked.”

  “Nice of you to notice.” The words snapped out before he could stop them. They caused her suspicion to sharpen.

  Her frown followed. “It’s kind of hard to miss.”

  “Really?” He turned away to grab the ashtray from the dresser. Ashes from the still-smoldering cigarette puffed up as he slapped the tin on the nightstand. “And here I thought you needed a hit of adrenaline to notice what I was wearing…or wasn’t.” For the first time that night he wasn’t offended when she stiffened; he was pleased. Unfortunately Dani had crossed her arms in her pique. Moonlight glinted off the fabric of his shirt as it strained to contain her pair of extremely generous breasts. A split second later, something else stiffened.

  Great. He needed an erection right now like he needed a second terrorist sleeper cell answering to Rurik’s own band of thugs. Jack forced himself to ignore his body’s reaction, praying Dani would have the tact to follow suit. Th
en again, this was General Ramrod-and-Ruthless Stanton’s daughter.

  “If you think I’m crawling in bed with you like that—”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. It’s a reflex reaction, nothing more.” That was no lie. “Any woman could have caused it.” But that was. It was also a low blow. One Dani didn’t deserve. Not given the day she’d had. She was perilously close to breaking. He could see it in her eyes. In the tears that were held just barely at bay. He sighed. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. Look I’m not crazy about bunking down with you either, let alone in the buff. We don’t have a choice. That door may be locked, but all it takes is a skeleton key. I wouldn’t put it past Rurik or Youssef not to waltz in here during the night to check up on us. Would you?”

  Silence. But he knew he’d made his point and made it well, because the tension began to ebb from her body. She finally dropped her arms. “You’re right, I wouldn’t put it past either of them. Given the conversation around here today, both of those bastards think rape is a spectator sport. Rurik probably only left when he did because he needs you.” She sighed. “I was out of line, too. I suppose I should be grateful. The Army could have sent in a stranger. At least we’ve slept together before.”

  The moment that last statement left her mouth, she regretted it. He could tell from the way she flushed—dark enough for the tide to show despite the shadows. He knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking it too. They might have shared a bed for four hours but, technically, they hadn’t actually slept. They’d been too busy doing something else. Lots of something else. In lots of ways. And every blessed one of them had been incredibly good.

  He purged the flood of memories before his body could react to those as well, then clipped the lighter and pack of Marlboros from the nightstand. He crushed the first cigarette into the ashtray and took his time lighting the next, praying she’d use the delay wisely. It would have worked—if the raucous notes of the latest folk song hadn’t died out then, leaving just enough dead air for him to make out the swish of fabric followed by two soft plops as his shirt and shorts hit the floor. He cursed the sultry ballad that filled the room as the bed dipped.