The_Secret Soldier

by Jennifer Morey

  Cullen shook his head, his eyes still radiating warm intensity, with concern for how she’d take this news. “Lowe made that impossible. It was Lowe who put mercs in the helicopter that fired at us, and it was Lowe who had more waiting for us in Egypt. He forced Aden to use Envirotech’s resources to make it all happen. He also knew Aden could keep him informed about the mission. Aden persuaded Noah’s secretary to give him information because he had no other choice.”

  “But I thought…I thought Aden didn’t want anyone hurt. Why did he help Lowe try to kill me? Why did he feel he was forced to do it?”

  “Isma’il had a friend in Afghanistan’s Ministry of Justice. Turns out that friend made some noise about wanting whoever stole three million in emeralds to pay for their crime. Aden was contracted by the U.S. government to help with the groundwater analyses in the Panjshir Valley. There was a Status-of-Forces Agreement in place, but it didn’t protect nonmilitary personnel if a crime was committed. Aden and Lowe are both civilians. If the Ministry of Justice learns they were the ones who stole the gems, Isma’il’s friend could demand their extradition to face trial and the United States would have to comply.”

  “Because of the agreement.”

  “Yes.”

  Facing trial in Afghanistan as an American was a horror not unlike the one she’d survived. Aden and Lowe had plenty of incentive to make sure that never happened. Even if smuggling emeralds wasn’t a capital offense in Afghanistan, the punishment could be severe.

  “So when I start digging, Aden gets nervous and goes along with Lowe to kill me.”

  “Lowe saw the photo of you holding Samuel’s field book. They looked for it near the borehole but never found it. Aden searched Samuel’s things, but the field book wasn’t there. He must have just missed the contractor who found it, and that contractor must have put it in the shipping box right after Aden searched it. Lowe sees you have it and hires an affordable gun to kill you. Aden is too afraid to interfere. He doesn’t like the way Lowe operates, but he also doesn’t want to face trial in Afghanistan. With all the press surrounding you, they had even more reason to worry about exposure. It wouldn’t take much for Isma’il’s friend to hear about who planned your kidnapping and why.”

  Was she supposed to sympathize with Aden? She found herself wishing they both had been caught. It was what they deserved. Because of them, Samuel had died a terrible death. It made her so angry. Aden may not have wanted anyone to get hurt, but people had gotten hurt. People had died because he’d helped Lowe do what he couldn’t.

  “Is he dead?” she asked.

  “Who?”

  “Aden. Did you kill him?” She knew she was being unreasonable, but the injustice of Samuel’s death brought it out in her. For the first time since her abduction, she wanted to imagine someone being tortured. She wanted Aden and Lowe to suffer the way Samuel had.

  “I didn’t lay a hand on him,” Cullen said in a gentle voice. And it reached through her angry emotions, showing her he understood her so well. He knew it was grief over Samuel that made her lash out like this. “I didn’t have to. He wanted to tell me everything. I think he was glad to finally get it off his chest. It was almost as if he expected me to show up, to give him a reason to come clean. He never wanted Lowe to kill you, but neither did he want to face trial in Afghanistan, and Lowe threatened to turn him over to Isma’il’s friend if he didn’t help him.”

  She moved around him. At the table where she’d left the pistol, she picked it up. She handled the gun for a while, wondering if she had the nerve to go across the street and shoot Aden herself. Cullen put his hand around her wrist, stilling her.

  “Killing him won’t bring Samuel back,” he said.

  Slowly she looked up, struggling with a riot of emotions churning inside her. “Why didn’t you kill him? Why didn’t you kill a man who just stood aside and allowed a good man to be slowly and brutally tortured to death and others to die trying to save me?”

  “He’s not the one who deserves to die, Sabine.”

  But someone else was—she silently finished his unspoken thought. And he intended to hunt that man down. She nodded her understanding, satisfied that justice would be served. Samuel’s death would be avenged.

  Cullen moved to where he’d left the duffel bag. When he returned to stand in front of her, he handed it to her.

  “What is this?”

  “Open it.”

  She put it on the end of the bed and unzipped the top. Inside were several bundles of cash. Aden’s share of the emeralds.

  “Do whatever you want with it,” Cullen said. “Burn it. Keep it. Do something Samuel would have liked with it. It doesn’t matter. It’s your decision.”

  She stared into the bag for a long time, but she already knew what she was going to do. She was going to give it to Lisandra. It wouldn’t make anything right, but Samuel would have wanted to take care of his wife.

  Late the next morning, Cullen put his finger to his lips when he opened the door to the room-service attendant. The graying dark-haired woman smiled and nodded. She eyed him as she carried a tray into the room. He wore only his jeans. Was she looking at his bare chest, or did she recognize him? He knew it was the latter when she saw Sabine sprawled sleeping on the king-size bed and her smile turned impish. Covered to her chin and curled on her side, Sabine looked rumpled and content beside the spot he’d vacated.

  Setting the tray of fruit, omelets, toast and orange juice on the counter between the armoire and entertainment center, the woman faced Cullen with covert but obvious glances toward the bed. As though on cue, Sabine rolled onto her back with a moan. She sounded sexy as hell.

  Clearing his throat, Cullen opened his wallet.

  “You don’t have to worry,” the woman said. “No one will know you’re here.”

  He paused in the act of pulling out two twenties to cover breakfast and a tip.

  “The entire staff has strict orders not to say a word to anyone.” She winked and looked at Sabine again, who had folded her arms over her head to enhance her appearance of a woman who was sleeping off a night of hot sex.

  Cullen grinned and replaced the twenties with a hundred.

  The woman thanked him profusely as she left.

  Taking the tray to the end of the bed, he stopped and stared down at Sabine. Two things she loved since coming home from Afghanistan were food and sleep. He adored that about her. He had no idea why.

  She made another sleepy sound as her eyes fluttered open and found him. It was all he could do to keep himself from crawling on top of her. She made it worse by rising onto her elbows, the blankets falling from her breasts and the strap of her nightgown slipping off one smooth shoulder.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  She smiled sleepily up at him. “Same to you.”

  Did she know what she was doing to him? Cullen moved on his knees toward her. Sabine sat straighter, crossing and folding her legs as he placed the tray in front of her. He stretched onto his side beside her, bracing himself up by his elbow. He was very close to that bare shoulder.

  Sabine lifted the carnation that someone had placed inside a small glass of water and brought it to her nose. Watching her smell the flower kept his interest stirred.

  Lowering the flower, she turned her head toward him. He looked at her mouth.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked, twirling the carnation in her fingers.

  He could think of something, but that’s not what she was asking. She wondered what they would do about Aden and his pilot. Taking the carnation from her fingers, he lifted it to her lips and used it to brush their soft fullness. “You’re not doing anything.”

  Her lips parted and he saw the quickening of her pulse in her neck. Heard it in her breath. Then she wrapped her fingers around his. He let her take the carnation from him.

  “Are you going to find Lowe?” she asked.

  There went the mood. But it was just as well. He didn’t want to give her false hope there was any kind
of future for them. She couldn’t do casual and he couldn’t give her more. “Yes.”

  “And then what?”

  He didn’t answer, which for Sabine was the same as answering her question. She was getting to know him too well.

  “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you.”

  He could see in her eyes that she didn’t like the idea. Last night she was ready for blood, but today she was back to herself. While he couldn’t blame her after what she’d endured in Afghanistan, it spurred his annoyance. Casey Lowe would kill her without a second thought. Sabine might think she could defend herself, but Cullen knew better.

  “Lowe isn’t going to get another chance to come after you, Sabine. I won’t let him.”

  She didn’t say anything, but he could tell he hadn’t swayed her.

  “I can’t always be around to protect you.”

  That ignited green fire in her eyes. “No, you’ll run away to your next mission and I’ll be just an afterthought.” She stabbed the carnation back into the glass of water and slid her legs over the side of the bed to stand. “God, I should have seen this a long time ago.”

  What did she mean, run away? He watched her stomp toward the bathroom, then propelled himself up off the bed to go after her.

  “What do you want me to do? Let him get away with it?”

  “No.” She started to close the door.

  He slapped a hand on it to stop her. “What do you want me to do?”

  She met his eyes with the fiery energy of hers. “Can’t you think of anything other than your missions? What’s so frightening about having feelings for someone?”

  “What?” Where had all this come from?

  She moved forward, pressing her hands on his chest and giving him a shove. Perplexed, he let her back him against the wall.

  “What are you so afraid of?” she whispered.

  “I’m not afraid.” He wished he knew what had her so riled.

  She raised up onto her toes. Eyes alive with energy, she pressed her mouth to his. The shock of it stilled him. An instant later, it inflamed him.

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her higher and tighter to him. Her tongue slid against his. He angled his head and took her deeper, cupping the back of her head with his hand. He felt every inch of her beautiful body against his.

  All he’d have to do is turn and put her back against the wall, lift her nightgown and push his underwear down and he could assuage this maddening lust that wouldn’t leave him alone. He could drive it out of his system. He started to do just that when she withdrew. She stepped back and he had no choice but to let her slip out of his arms.

  “Do you want me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he rasped.

  “And then what?”

  Realizing this was a continuation of their original dialogue, he scowled at her.

  “You run off to your next mission,” she said, answering her own question.

  Because he was afraid. He got it now. He understood what she meant. He was afraid of the then what. Though it irritated him to be accused of that, he couldn’t argue her point.

  His cell phone started to ring, and he was glad to go answer it. He flicked on the television while he lifted his cell to his ear.

  “You aren’t going to believe this,” Odie said.

  He barely heard her. A breaking news report showed the front entrance of Brooks Tower, where police and emergency vehicles, lights flashing, were parked. A newswoman was in the middle of a sentence.

  “…are no leads and no witnesses have come forth.”

  “Lowe is in Denver,” Odie continued.

  “Really.” He said it sarcastically.

  When Sabine got out of the shower, she realized she’d left her clothes in the other room. Wrapping a towel around her instead of putting the nightgown back on, she left the bathroom. It wouldn’t take long to find something to wear. Just a minute or two. She tried not to think of Cullen’s reaction to seeing her in only a towel, and ignored the lurking thought that maybe deep down she wanted him to see her like this. Her time in the shower had done little to cool what kissing him had brewed.

  She emerged from the hall. Cullen held a pistol, pushing a clip into place. He wore jeans and nothing else. Those gray eyes lifted and saw her, then lowered to take a startled journey over the towel and everything it didn’t cover. A fraction of a second later, heat wiped out any surprise.

  She stopped halfway to her bag, her hand tightening on the towel as a flutter blossomed inside her. He stood as still as she did, his bare chest smooth over hard muscle, bent arms globing his biceps, holding the gun in his big hands. He reminded her of the way he was when he’d rescued her. Clearly her brain was muddled if she found the way he held a gun sexy.

  He turned the safety on as she moved forward and came to a stop before him.

  “Did something happen?” she asked.

  “Lowe killed Aden after I left him last night.”

  That worked to dim the invisible chemistry flying between them. “How do you know?”

  “Odie told me. And it was on the news.”

  “How did Lowe know you went to see Aden?”

  “He must have seen me.”

  “Wouldn’t you have noticed that?”

  His mouth hitched up higher on one side. “I appreciate your confidence in me, but he’s probably watching us from a building. I’m guessing The Curtis hotel. I’m waiting for a room number.”

  “How did Lowe know where to find us?” she asked.

  “He didn’t. But he knew we’d come to see Aden.”

  She looked toward the window where the drapes were drawn aside, not liking the idea of being watched. “Odie can get that room number for you?”

  “If she can’t, I will.”

  She turned back to him, wondering how long they’d be stuck in this room, alone. “What are we going to do?”

  He paused. “Wait for Odie to call.”

  His hesitation and the warming embers in his gaze left her no doubt he was thinking the same as her. They were alone, with nothing to do but wait.

  He looked down where the towel left the tops of her breasts bare. She wished she hadn’t kissed him. More than helping her make a point, it fueled an already smoking passion.

  This morning he’d turned a carnation into a sex toy. The last tether of control was a weak one. She felt it hover between them. Felt him want to finish what she’d started. She held the towel with both hands, as though it would keep her from letting him.

  Without moving his eyes away from her, he leaned to his side to put the gun on the only table in the room. His muscled chest flexed and relaxed as he straightened, biceps pressing against his sides. He moved toward her and didn’t stop until he stood close. She felt her forearms brush his skin. A lovely shiver raced through her.

  Lifting his hand, he slid his fingers into her wet hair at the back of her neck. She couldn’t breathe as his head came closer.

  “I can’t stop this anymore,” he said, soft and raspy.

  The words melted through her, so mirroring the way she felt. He kissed her. She shuddered with need and strained to take more of him. Angling his head, he opened his mouth over hers. She gave him all of her.

  He curved his arm around her waist, drawing her fully against him. She let go of the towel to put her hands on him, loving the contour of muscle as she ran them up his body to bring her arms around his neck. The tickle of his hair on her skin, the warm force of his mouth on hers, his tongue making love with hers, the smell of him, it all wrapped around her senses and obliterated everything else. He gripped the towel behind her and pulled. She heard it fall to the floor. Her bare breasts pressed against him.

  He lifted her and she folded her legs around him, kissing his mouth. This was so much more intense than in Kárpathos.

  “I want you too much,” he said against her kisses, stepping toward the bed.

  The words sent emotion soaring in her heart. She kissed him, a way of answering without say
ing out loud the truth of what she felt. He took over the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers, meeting her passion and urging her for more.

  Her back came against the mattress. She watched him straighten and jerk at the button and zipper of his jeans, push them down his legs and kick them aside. All the while he looked at her, hungry anticipation ablaze.

  He crawled over rumpled blankets and sheets until he was on top of her. The feel of his body on hers amplified her yearning to have him inside her. He lowered himself onto his elbows, his face close above hers, eyes beaming a growing message of love. Oh, to believe and trust what she saw….

  “Cullen,” she said, sighing his name before his mouth came down to hers. She wanted to say more but held back.

  He kissed her with all the force of his passion. And she met it with her own, telling him that way.

  “Too much.” He sounded breathless. She exulted in his confession, knowing he felt something deep, that it matched what she felt.

  Trailing his lips from her mouth, he kissed her chin, her neck. His hands slid from her shoulders to her breasts. He kissed his way down, took a nipple into his mouth, then the other. His hands sank into the wet strands of her hair on the pillow. His breathing warmed her skin as he planted gentle, wet kisses along the slope of her breast, her ribs, her stomach. Then he reversed the journey, a silent reverence of unspoken love.

  He moved up from her stomach and held himself over her. Those strong arms bent to bring his mouth to hers. She craved kissing him. Running her hands over his warm skin, she caressed the hardness of his muscled chest and abdomen, sliding around his trim waist to his smooth back. She kissed his cheek and chin, finding her way back to his mouth, sharing the salty taste with him.

  He lifted away with a coarse breath and found her eyes with his. She died a tiny death as he slid into her. He pulled back for another wet, tight slide. She sought his mouth and he gave her another soul-moving kiss, pushing deep.

  A shiver of building heat made her whisper his name again. It drew a ragged exhale from him. He kissed her hard and quick before he drove into her with more urgency. An insatiable ache gave way to spectacular sensation that spread everywhere in her body. Sabine heard her own guttural yell.