The Reunion Mission: The Reunion MissionTall Dark Defender

by Beth Cornelison

  Last night had been soul-shaking, and he refused to regret any part of it. But he couldn’t let Nicole believe it was more than what it was—hot, even-better-than-he-remembered, burned-into-his-DNA sex.

  He watched Nicole tuck her hair behind her ear and laugh at something Pilar said in broken English, and a fist squeezed his lungs. He’d survived without her before, and somehow he’d find a way to move on this time, as well. Once Pilar was back with her father, he’d launch a new career and put Nicole behind him, just like he had five years ago.

  When the old shack came into view, a bittersweet nostalgia settled over him. As a boy he’d loved coming out here with his father to fish, and when he’d grown older, he’d taken on the job of caring for the tiny house on stilts for his grandmother, who’d loved to tell him happy stories about her childhood in the swamp.

  As they approached, he tried to see the weather-beaten shack through Nicole’s eyes. The warped and rotting wood, the rusty tin roof, the moss-covered walls and dingy windows. Yet the shack wasn’t a total disaster, since he’d made some repairs and cleaned the inside a few months back, before directing Alec here to use the house as a hideout from the men tailing him.

  The pirogue bumped the rickety dock, and Daniel lashed a rope from the boat to a post.

  “Can we go inside? I’d love to see where your grandmother grew up,” Nicole said as she climbed out onto the floating wooden platform at the base of the stilts.

  “Sure. Let’s unload the boat, then I’ll give you the fifty-cent tour.” Daniel handed her the cooler with the lunch they’d packed and gave Pilar the set of cane poles and tackle box.

  “Want help?” Nicole asked, offering her hand to help him negotiate the awkward gap between the dock and the pirogue.

  He waved her away with a scowl. “I can do it.” When he stood, the boat rocked, and unable to put his full weight on his bad leg, he fumbled for balance.

  “Daniel.” Nicole shoved her hand at him, her blue gaze steady and determined. “Don’t be so stubborn. Give me your hand.”

  He hesitated, hating to appear weak in any way in front of her, but finally grasped her arm at the elbow while she grasped his arm and pulled him onto the dock beside her.

  “Thanks,” he grunted, then set to work moving their cane poles to the other end of the platform where they’d be fishing.

  As promised, he took Nicole and Pilar for a quick tour of the two-room shack, but getting inside required climbing a ladder made of two-by-fours nailed to one of the stilts. Daniel ascended the rungs by pulling himself up until his good leg had a foothold, then performing another pull-up to repeat the process. He didn’t give the tactic a second thought until he saw the gleam of appreciation in Nicole’s eyes as she squeezed his biceps and wiggled her eyebrows. “Impressive. I like.”

  In deference to the little girl watching them, he limited his response to grin and a smoldering gaze. But later...

  Nicole turned and took in the decor. “Hey, not bad.”

  Despite its outer appearance, the shack had several new items of furniture, including a new mattress on the bed. He’d paid extra to the delivery man for his help to bring it out on a boat and carry it up the two-by-four ladder. The living space had a small table, a couple of chairs and a kitchen area where he could cook over a camping stove. The tiny back room was a bathroom with a shower, sans hot water, and a toilet hooked up to an underwater septic tank.

  “See? All the comforts of home,” he said, pulling a wry grin.

  Nicole gave him a dubious grin, and Pilar, standing at a window, stared out at the water. “Fishing?”

  Daniel chuckled. “Yes, fishing. Let’s go.”

  For the next hour, they tossed their lines off the small dock, swatting mosquitoes and working with Pilar on her English. Despite their chatter, which Daniel knew was scaring away most of the fish, they managed to hook a couple medium-size crappie. When Nicole’s line pulled taut, Daniel wrapped his arms around her to help pull in a struggling catfish. The excitement in her eyes when they dragged the catch onto the dock spun a mellow warmth inside him.

  “Aye-ee!” Nicole whooped in her best Cajun accent.

  “Aye-ee!” Pilar echoed, and Daniel laughed.

  “You’re pretty pleased with yourself,” he teased.

  She flipped her hair behind her. “Of course I am. I’ve never caught a catfish before. This is a red-letter day!”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You grew up in Louisiana and never...?” Daniel shook his head. “Well, this is an occasion, isn’t it?” He pulled her closer and dropped a kiss on her lips. “Congratulations, cher.”

  They took a picture with his cell phone, then released the fish at Nicole’s request.

  “My work here is done.” She laid her pole aside and headed toward the two-by-four ladder. “I’ll be right back. Bathroom break.”

  “Check the seat for spiders before you sit down,” he called to her, earning himself a frown of dismay. He grinned and cast his line into the water. “I’m just sayin’.”

  * * *

  “Check the seat for spiders?” Nicole grumbled as she marched back to the tiny bathroom. “Not funny.” Though, if she was honest, she should be glad the shack had such facilities at all. She could be holding it until they got back to Daniel’s house.

  Nicole squeezed into the small bathroom and forced the rusty slide bolt into place. Turning, she eyed the toilet warily before lifting the lid and leaning forward to search for creepy crawlies. No spiders but...

  The reek of sewage wafted up in a redolent wave that caught her off guard. Gagging, she staggered back a step and gasped for a fresh breath.

  But the stench filled the tiny room, filled her nose, filled her memory. In an instant, she was back in her pen in Colombia where the stink of the outhouse and prisoners’ waste, of fetid mud and decay hung in the air, an inescapable reminder of the squalor she’d lived in.

  The thread of panic and terror she’d held forcibly at bay since coming home jerked tight around her throat like a garrote. Her vision blurred, and she panted for air as a clawing, frantic horror engulfed her.

  Sweat popped out on her face. Her heart thundered. The walls shrank around her.

  Spinning toward the door, desperate to get out of the tiny room, she scrabbled with the slide bolt. Her legs shook, and her hands trembled. But the lock wouldn’t budge.

  Chapter 11

  Trapped! She was trapped!

  Mewls of fright punctuated her choppy gasps. She had to get out! Had to—

  Giving up on the bolt, she slammed her hands on the door. Out! She had to get out!

  She heard the guards’ cruel laughs. Saw the chain-link fencing. Felt the desperate despondency. The fear. No!

  Tears dripped onto her cheeks. “No! No, no, no! Let me out! Please God!”

  She barely recognized her own voice, strangled by anxiety and panic, unable to pull herself back from the edge. Screaming, terrified, she battered the door with her fists. “Noooo!”

  Over her own moans of fear, the thump of uneven footsteps reached her ears. “Nicole? Nicole! What’s wrong?”

  “Help me!” she sobbed. “Please!”

  The door rattled. “Unlock the bolt.”

  “I—I can’t. I—help me!” Her head spun as she panted shallowly for air. “T-trapped...”

  “Okay. Stand back.”

  Numbly, Nicole stumbled a step away from the door, until her back hit the opposite wall. She squeezed her eyes shut, quivering to her marrow. A cage. Leering guards. Mud. Bugs. Heat. Despair. No, no, no! Not again!

  A loud thump sounded at the door, then another. The door buckled, shook. Finally, the slide bolt tore away from the wall, and the door crashed open.

  She jerked a startled gaze up, gulping the fresh air.

  Through the opening, Daniel frowned at her, rubbing his shoulder. “Nicole? Cher, what—?”

  “I...I smelled...the camp,” she muttered between gasps. He knees gave out, and she slid to the floor. “Priso
n camp...I couldn’t...get out. Trapped... Oh, God—” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, “So...sc-scared.”

  Warm arms wrapped around her, and a smooth, deep voice crooned, “It’s okay, cher. You’re safe now. You’re free.”

  Nausea rolled through her, and she shoved Daniel aside to retch in the toilet. Only to catch another waft of putrid stench in the process. “Oh, God,” she moaned as the horror crashed down on her again.

  “Hey, take deep breaths, Nic. You’re hyperventilating.” Daniel put a hand under each of her arms and pulled her to her feet. “C’mere, cher. You’re safe. Breathe for me, Nic.”

  She stepped to the tiny sink to rinse her mouth out, then cast a sodden gaze toward him, too battered by her roiling emotions and dark memories to do anything but crumple against him. “Hold me. Please.”

  “Ah, cher. Always.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her into the main room, where he sat on the bed with her in his lap. “Let it out, Nicole. You’ve held it in too long. You’ve earned the right to fall apart a little.”

  Fall apart.

  More like disintegrate. She clung to Daniel’s broad shoulders and let his presence, his strength wash through her. If she had to come unraveled, she could think of nowhere she’d rather be than in Daniel’s arms. Hiding her face in the curve of his throat, she curled her fingers into his shirt and held on tight, shuddered.

  “Let it out,” he murmured, and caressed her back.

  She’d tried so hard to be strong. To keep it together for... “Pilar,” she whispered.

  “Is fine.” He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead. “I told her to wait outside. I’ll check on her in a minute.”

  Nodding, she closed her eyes, fought to get her ragged breathing under control. “I’m sorry. I just—”

  “Don’t,” he growled, his arms tightening around her. “Don’t you dare apologize. You’re human. And you’ve been through hell.” He wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “To be honest, I’ve been waiting for this. I knew it was coming.”

  She raised a forlorn look to him. “Because I’m weak.”

  He huffed an exasperated sigh. “No. Because I’ve seen enough hardened soldiers suffer breakdowns after a trauma to know PTSD can affect anyone. And you have a tender heart. You care. You let things in, including the horrible, evil things men are capable of.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp in a slow, relaxing caress. “It will get to anyone after a while.”

  “I was fine until...I smelled the septic gasses...” She shivered and nestled closer, savoring the heat of his body. “And then...it was like I was back there...in Colombia...in that pen.”

  “Smell is one of the most closely linked senses to memory.” He slipped a pack of breath mints from his pocket. “This might help get the stink out of your nose.”

  Nicole accepted a mint gratefully and sucked hard on the candy. After drawing and exhaling a lungful of musty, though septic-stink free, air, Nicole hummed her agreement. “I’ve heard that about smell and memory. I know the sm-smell of cut grass...reminds me of my mother.”

  “Cut grass?”

  “Not because she mowed our lawn.” She forced a staccato laugh. “But because I used to work in our flower garden with her, pruning roses, weeding daylilies, planting tulip bulbs. You’d think the smell of flowers or soil would make me think of her, but it’s grass. Our yard man was almost always out at the same time, mowing, so...” She sucked in another tremulous breath, feeling a fresh rush of tears. “I miss her so much.”

  Daniel pressed a kiss to her head, squeezing her again in his embrace. “Shrimp boil reminds me of my grandmére. For the obvious reasons.”

  They were quiet for several minutes, except for her soft sniffles as she cried, releasing months of tension and fear and heartache. The silence was comfortable, soothing, and Daniel’s gentle ministrations lulled her frantic pulse back to a normal rhythm.

  “Nicole?”

  She tipped her chin up to meet his gaze and was startled by the pain that flashed in his dark eyes.

  “Did they...” He paused, clenching his teeth, as if his question was to vile to speak. “Were you...raped?”

  Placing a hand on his cheek, she shook her head. “They knew I was an American, that my father was a senator. I think they left me alone because they feared an American retaliation if any harm came to me. They were in a better position to negotiate with my dad for my release if I was unhurt.”

  Relief flooded his face, and he sighed. “Thank God.”

  “I like to think that, in that way, my dad was protecting me, even from thousands of miles away.”

  Daniel twitched a quick lopsided grin. “Yeah.”

  Her returned smile faltered as another memory crowded her brain. “But...” A shudder rolled through her.

  He cupped her chin and stroked her cheek with his thumb, his expression morphing to reflect her own gravity. “What?”

  “There was another woman there for a few weeks. I don’t know who she was or where she came from, why they were holding her, but...” Her stomach churned with bitterness. “The guards raped her...almost every day. They made sure I saw.” She bit her bottom lip as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “I wanted to help, but I...couldn’t. I felt so helpless. Hearing her scream was...a whole new kind of hell.”

  “Merde,” he muttered under his breath, his jaw rigid and anger clouding his eyes.

  “When Pilar arrived, I made it my mission to protect her.” The maternal determination that had motivated her to guard the little girl surged through her now. “Taking care of her...saved my sanity. Comforting her, shielding her, teaching her, keeping her spirits up gave me something to take my mind off my own plight.”

  Daniel traced her jawline with the back of his fingers, his attention fully focused on what she was telling him.

  “I felt like, in some small way, I had control again. I could protect Pilar, if I did nothing else.”

  “And soon she’ll be going home, thanks to you.”

  Nicole sighed. “Seeing her leave will be hard. She means a lot to me.”

  “I can tell.” His eyes held a soft glow of compassion and concern that burrowed deep inside her, chasing away the chill her memories of the prison camp evoked.

  But here she was safe. Here she was protected. Here she was...loved?

  Nicole searched Daniel’s expression, and although he’d never professed any feelings for her other than lust, she could’ve sworn she saw affection and commitment in the way he looked at her. Or was that wishful thinking?

  Her heart kicked, and suddenly she needed his kiss more than she needed her next breath. Plowing her fingers into his hair, she dragged his head down and caught his lips with hers. A quiet rumble of satisfaction hummed from Daniel’s chest, and he cradled her nape as he angled his mouth for a deeper kiss. Unlike the frantic urgency that had ignited their passion last night, the tenderness of Daniel’s lips echoed the comforting gentleness he’d shown her since breaking down the bathroom door to reach her. The warmth of his lips flowed through her like a balm, soothing the last jagged edges of her frayed nerves and filling her with a sense of security and belonging she hadn’t experienced since...the night they’d shared in New Orleans five years ago.

  After breaking free of her father, she’d buried herself in her nursing career, traveled with the medical mission to Colombia, dedicated herself to guarding Pilar, but only Daniel had given her the deep-seated joy and fulfillment that satisfied her searching heart.

  Nicole tangled her fingers in his thick hair, savoring the sweet sensation of holding him, tasting him, feeling the answering tremors that shook him, just as her own body trembled with desire and an overwhelming joy. When he traced her lips with the tip of his tongue, she welcomed him with a soft sigh of pleasure. After a moment, Daniel gentled the kiss again and pulled away to look into her eyes.

  “Are you okay? No more flashbacks?” His concern was etched in tiny lines beside his eyes and the softeni
ng in his penetrating gaze.

  She stroked his cheek and nodded. “Thanks to you.” She closed her eyes as he placed a small kiss on her nose, her eyelids, her forehead.

  “You’re strong, cher. Don’t forget that. And you are safe now.”

  When she felt his lips on hers again, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wanting to hold him close forever. Wanting that moment to last. Wanting—

  A frightened squeal rang through the shack. Tensing with alarm, Nicole and Daniel broke apart, and she scrambled, two steps ahead of him, toward the ladder.

  “Daniel!” Pilar screamed. “Daniel!”

  “Pilar?” Heart thumping, Nicole scurried down the first few rungs of the two-by-four ladder, only to run into the little girl clambering her way up. “Mija, what’s wrong? Qué te pasa?”

  Pilar tugged at Nicole’s leg, then pointed toward the water. “Una serpiente! Una serpiente!”

  Inching down next to the little girl, she looked out at the bayou and saw a snake swimming away, his body wiggling as he glided through the murky water. Nicole shivered.

  “He’s gone. It’s okay, mija.” Nicole guided Pilar down the last steps to the dock, allowing Daniel room to descend.

  “What did it look like?” he asked. “What shape was its head?”

  Nicole shot him a withering glance. “Snake-shaped. All snakes look the same to me.” She shuddered and hugged Pilar to her. “Creepy.”

  With one eyebrow cocked, he divided a considering look between Nicole and Pilar. “I’m assuming our visitor has spoiled your enthusiasm for fishing?”

  Nicole nodded. “Kinda.”

  Heaving a patient sigh, Daniel shuffled toward Pilar’s abandoned fishing pole and began to pack up.