Power: Special Tactical Units Division (In Wilde Country Book 3)

by Sandra Marton

  “Nothing. Everything. I’m just thinking what a dumb, self-important SOB your old man is…” He grabbed for Alessandra. She dropped both the bowl and spoon, squealed, and absolutely made no real effort to get away as he tumbled her beneath him before the fire. “I’m also thinking that if you don’t stop sucking on that spoon, I’m gonna show you that you’d have a lot better time with me than with a cold piece of stainless—”

  Bzzz.

  Tanner froze.

  Bzzz.

  “Sorry, baby. The satphone…” He sat up and reached for the phone which he’d left on a table beside the couch. “Chay?”

  “Akecheta.”

  Chay’s voice was crisp. This was business coming up and Tanner knew it.

  “Talk to me,” he said, rising to his feet.

  Chay talked while Tanner paced.

  “The eye of the storm will be over you in an hour. Blake’s sending in a couple of choppers to get you and the woman out.”

  “Fine for me, but for her… It’s night. Dark.”

  “No choice. Bandits on the move, dude. Two dozen, maybe more. Heading for you. ETA ninety minutes, maybe less.”

  “Crap. Bright Star?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “What’s happening?” Alessandra asked softly.

  She had come up beside him, her face turned up to his, her eyes filled with concern. Tanner put his arm around her and drew her tightly against him.

  “Timeline’s gonna be close,” he told Chay.

  “No question. Also no choice. You won’t have enough firepower or manpower to stop them.”

  It was true. Tanner knew it. He also knew the risks of running such a tight operation. If the guerrillas somehow got there at the same time as the rescue helicopters…

  “I’ll let you know when the Hueys are a couple of miles out, but you’ll hear them comin’ in. The landing zone is that sea of grass between the mangrove swamp and the house. Got it?”

  “Got it.” Tanner cleared his throat. “Olivieri? Tell the chopper guys—tell them to be careful with her. Tell them—”

  “Tanner.” Chay’s voice lowered. “You know they’ll do this right.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Of course they will.”

  The call ended. Tanner stood with Alessandra in the curve of his arm.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  So he told her. When he’d finished, she stepped in front of him and dug her fingers into the fabric of the T-shirt he wore.

  “Helicopters? More than one?”

  “Yes.”

  “But they’ll take us out together,” she said, she said, her eyes searching his. “Won’t they?”

  He nodded. “Sure.”

  “Because I’m not going without you.”

  He smoothed the golden curls back from her face. He wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear, but he had to make sure she was prepared for a glitch in the plans.

  The years had taught him that there was always the chance of a glitch, no matter how carefully a mission was organized.

  “We’ll go together,” he said softly, “unless we can’t.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? There’s no way I’ll—”

  He kissed her. It was the only way he knew to stop her from making a vow he would never let her keep. She was going home, no matter what.

  “Tanner.” He could taste the salt of her tears on her lips. “If anything happened to you…”

  “We have less than an hour,” he said. “Much less. I’ll want us to be ready to roll in half that time.” He lifted her face to his. “You want to waste it talking, or you want to spend it with me inside you, where I belong?”

  His words, the way he looked at her… He’d managed to reduce all they’d discovered about each other and about themselves to the only thing that mattered.

  Being together.

  Being one.

  “Make love to me,” she said fiercely. “Now. Right now. Just kiss me and touch me and bury yourself deep inside me and tell me that nothing, nothing, will keep us apart.”

  His mouth captured hers, all heat and passion and hurry.

  He got her jeans down. Unzipped his. No niceties. No finesse. Neither wanted that.

  He drew her down to the floor. She wrapped herself around him and he drove into her.

  She sobbed his name.

  He whispered hers.

  She came fast and hard; he felt her muscles contract around him and that was all he needed to go with her.

  After, he held her against him. Waited until his heartbeat and hers slowed. Then he framed her face with his hands and took her mouth in long, sweet, tender kisses.

  Letting go of each other was difficult, but each knew there was no choice.

  The expected eye of the storm was suddenly overhead. The rain became a drizzle; the wind turned into a whisper.

  There was no time to waste.

  They rearranged their clothes in silence.

  Tanner laced up his combat boots; Alessandra zipped up the boots she’d found in the closet. He collected the few things he’d taken out of his backpack. Slung the MP7 over his shoulder; snugged his belt and the holstered SIG-SAUER around her hips.

  Then he clasped her shoulders.

  “STUD will get us out before the insurgents show up,” he said, and silently hoped to hell he was right. “Just in case they don’t… If you need to pull that pistol, you also need to shoot to kill. The things people ask cops and soldiers about why they didn’t shoot a bad guy in the leg is just bullshit. The entire reason for using a weapon is to take down your enemy. For most shooters, that means aiming for the biggest target. The torso. Understood?”

  Alessandra nodded. Her heart was beating fast and loud. Some of it was fear of what might be waiting for them outside the house, but most of it was fear that she would never again see this man, the man she loved.

  “We’ll be fine, honey,” Tanner said softly. He smiled, put his fingers under her chin and raised her face to his. “My guys wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  She smiled back, but her eyes filled with tears.

  “Promise me you won’t put yourself in harm’s way,” she said.

  It was a promise he couldn’t make, and they both knew it.

  Instead, he kissed her and held her to his heart.

  “Tanner,” she whispered, “when we get home…”

  Everything would change. He knew that, too, but this wasn’t the time to talk about it.

  “For now,” he said, “let’s just concentrate on getting out of the Mangrove Hilton.”

  She gave a watery laugh. “When we fill out the guest survey, we should mention they never left chocolates on our pill—”

  The satphone rang. Tanner grabbed it.

  “Akecheta,” Chay said, urgency in his voice. “Your rides are almost there, but so is Bright Star. LZ is changed. It’s now the beach, not the field. Go there, pronto. Understood? Tanner! Do you read—”

  The sound of choppers moving in drowned Chay out.

  Tanner swung towards the nearest bank of security monitors. Yes, there they were. A pair of Hueys, low over the beach. He grabbed Alessandra’s hand. They raced down the hall to the utility room and the back door…

  “Shit!”

  Staccato bursts of small arms coming from the field in front of the house became part of the cacophony of sound.

  Tanner clasped Alessandra’s hands.

  “I’m going to unlock the back door,” he said. “The second it’s open, you run for the helicopters.”

  “What do you mean I run for them? Where will you be?”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Tanner. I’m not going anywhere without—”

  “Alessandra,” he said sharply, “Listen to me. You will run. You will not look back, you will not hesitate. You will run like the devil is on your heels.”

  “No!” She shook her head. Her eyes were wild. “No. I am not leaving you. I am not—”

  “Goddammit, I’m not g
iving you a choice. You will get your ass out of here. Understood?”

  “Tanner. Please.”

  Tears ran down her cheeks. She lifted a hand, touched it to his jaw. It took all his strength not to turn his face and press his lips to her palm, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What he could do, would do, was whatever was necessary to save her life.

  “I’m not giving you a choice,” he said, the words harsh and blunt. “I have never not completed a mission, and that isn’t going to change just because you and I fucked.”

  He saw her flinch. Saw the pain in her eyes. He wanted to call back the words, drag her into his arms, tell her the truth, that he loved her, that he would love her forever…

  “Now,” he said, and he flung the door open.

  She looked at him one last time. He knew he would always remember that look, that it would haunt his days and nights until he saw her again, until he could tell her that he had lied…

  Because he would tell her.

  Of course, he would tell her…

  Tanner put his hand in the center of Alessandra’s back and pushed her out the door.

  “Run, damn you,” he shouted.

  She stumbled forward. He wanted to go after her, see her safely to the chopper, but he knew that the only way to protect her was to keep the guerrillas busy enough so they couldn’t get past him.

  One last look.

  She was almost at the bird. An arm reached out, the hand open and extended to her.

  She grasped it.

  Tanner spun around, raced to the front door and threw it open.

  Men were coming through the tall grass, firing at the house. Without hesitation, he began firing back.

  A dark shadow passed overhead.

  It was a helicopter.

  Alessandra was safe.

  It was his last thought before he got hit, went down, and everything went black.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Walter Reed Medical Center, Bethesda, Maryland:

  The world consisted of a narrow bed, a panel of blinking lights and the poking and prodding of shiny instruments.

  And pain.

  Jesus, the pain.

  It was in his leg, same as the last time, except it wasn’t the same.

  It was worse.

  Much worse.

  It was endless. Unrelenting. It was a white-hot flame, a blazing poker that pierced his flesh, his muscles, his bones. It made him want to scream each time he rose to consciousness, but he knew better than to scream.

  If he did, the docs would decide things had gone too far.

  He knew where that would lead and no way was he going to let that happen.

  His leg was fucked, but it was his leg and, goddammit, they were not going to take it from him.

  It was the only thing he lasted long enough to say between bouts of consciousness.

  “Do not take my leg.”

  He said it over and over, over and over. The doctors would say We’re doing the best we can, Lieutenant, and he’d say, “Goddammit, do not take my leg!”

  Then he’d be gone again.

  He lost track of the number of times they operated. Of the drugs they gave him.

  Last time, he’d fought the drugs. He’d seen what happened when the drugs took you. Guys in the ward. Guys on the res. Addiction was addiction whether you had it dripped into your arm in a hospital or you shot up on the street, and he wasn’t that going to go that route.

  This time…this time, he pressed the button on the PCA hooked into him until they told him he’d used up his allotted dose of happy juice and he’d have to wait to get more.

  Really? Then what was the point of a patient controlled analgesic delivery system? he growled, except the words came out a pathetic whisper and all he got for his plea was another visit from an overworked resident who did more poking and prodding until Tanner bit through his lip to keep from screaming.

  It was better when he was under.

  The pain was gone, sure, but it was more than that.

  When he was under, he dreamed.

  Of her.

  Alessandra.

  Alessandra, in his arms. Alessandra, smiling at him across the kitchen table. Alessandra, standing before the mirror, naked, and him coming up behind her, pressing his body against hers, his hands cupping her breasts, his mouth against the nape of her neck, her sweet sigh as she leaned back against him…

  “Lieutenant.”

  The feel of her. Her softness. Her scent…

  “Lieutenant Akecheta. Can you hear me?”

  A woman’s voice.

  “Alessandra?” Tanner whispered.

  A cool hand swept over his forehead.

  “He’s burning up,” the voice said.

  “Alessandra. Sweetheart…”

  “Temp is one-oh-four,” a brisk male voice said. “I want him in surgery. Stat.”

  “Sweetheart. I didn’t mean what I said.”

  “Hush,” the female voice said. Gentle fingers meshed with his. “You’re going to be fine, Lieutenant. Just fine.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” Tanner said, “didn’t mean it. I love you, Alessandra. I love you…”

  “Hang on, dude. You hear me? Just hang on.”

  Chay’s voice. Chay’s rough hand gripping his.

  “Alessandra,” Tanner whispered. “Tell her…Tell her…”

  He was moving. Flying down long corridors. Lights blazed overhead. Doors swung open. He was in a room with white tile walls.

  “Easy,” a voice said, and something icy-cold rushed through his veins, through his body. It was taking him down, down, down…

  And then he fell into darkness.

  * * *

  Mayo Clinic, Jacksonville, Florida:

  Alessandra shot to consciousness, gasping for air.

  She had been dreaming.

  A house. A helicopter. Men swarming across a field. The sound of small-arms fire…

  And Tanner. Abandoned. Alone. Tanner…

  “Tanner?” she said. “Tanner, where are you?”

  The people gathered around her hospital bed looked at each other.

  “What’d she say?” whispered her sister, Bianca.

  The Wildes and Bellinis shook their heads.

  “Something about a banner,” Travis Wilde said.

  “It sounded like hammer,” Luca Bellini said.

  “She said ‘camera,’” Matteo Bellini said. “She probably took pictures down there. In wherever the hell she was. San Salvador.”

  “Santo Domingo,” Emily Wilde said.

  “San Escobal,” Jacob Wilde said, “and what does it matter? She’s full of ether. Nothing she’s gonna say will make sense.”

  “They haven’t used ether in a million years,” Caleb Wilde growled. “But Jake’s right. She’s babbling nonsense. People do, after anesthesia. What counts is that she’s okay.”

  “More than okay. The neurosurgeon says she’s doing extremely well.”

  The Wildes and Bellinis turned towards the doorway as their father, the general, entered the room. He looked haggard, but so did they all. They’d been gathered in this hospital room for a week, ever since Alessandra had been transferred here from a trauma center in Miami.

  “That’s wonderful,” Jaimie Wilde said. “Then, she’s going to—to—”

  John Hamilton Wilde joined his children at his daughter’s bedside.

  “There’s still some danger, but he assured me that he relieved the pressure on Alessandra’s brain and that the chances of a full recovery are excellent.”

  Luca stabbed his fingers through his hair.

  “Of all the things to happen,” he growled. “That Alessandra should have suffered a concussion in that damned helicopter…”

  “The helicopter was under fire. It was close to a miracle they were able to pull her aboard. There was no time to belt her in.”

  “Si. We know that.” Matteo swallowed hard. He looked down at his sister, so small and still in the hospital bed. “She’ll be fine,
” he said. “She’ll be just fine.”

  “Damn right,” Lissa Wilde said, chin lifted, eyes flashing as if she were daring anyone to disagree.

  Alessandra stirred. Sighed. “Tanner,” she murmured.

  Bianca reached for her hand.

  “She just said it again. Banner. Hammer. Camera. Something like that. Father? Any idea what she’s saying?”

  The general stared down at Alessandra. His precious daughter, who had been given a second chance at life. That meant he also had a second chance. He could provide her with all the things he had not given her in the past.

  She, the same as all his children, deserved only the best, and the best did not include a man who fought shadow wars, who was trained to kill, who would surely never be able to give a woman security and comfort and fidelity.

  “Tanner,” Alessandra whispered.

  “Father?” Bianca asked. “Do you know what she’s trying to say?”

  “No,” John Hamilton Wilde replied. “I have no idea at all.”

  * * *

  Bethesda, Maryland:

  Tanner was up and walking.

  He was off pain meds, and he’d had enough of being in the hospital. “I’m fine,” he told his doctors. “Or I will be, once I’m out of here.”

  The doctors were a little skeptical.

  True, his leg was healing well. It was his attitude that worried them. He seemed depressed, but they figured that would be normal for a guy who’d had to give up the career he loved. A couple of his nurses thought it wasn’t the loss of his career he was mourning so much as it was something else. Either way, there really was no reason to keep him hospitalized and they finally discharged him on a crisp fall morning.

  He called for a taxi to pick him up. Then he stood outside Walter Reed and felt better just breathing in air that didn’t smell of antiseptic.

  The taxi took him to Washington National Airport.

  Getting through security took a while. From now on, it probably always would. That was part of the price you paid for having a titanium rod and a bunch of titanium screws in your leg.