Chapter 13
"Maddy!" Sam waited for a car to streak past him before darting across the street to where she was helping Ricardo step out of the Jeep. She swiveled toward his call, her smile putting the sub-equatorial sun beating down on his head to shame. It flooded him with giddy warmth.
"Hey, you're still here!" she exclaimed.
"We're on our way out," he admitted, and her sunny smile immediately faltered. He felt the same ambivalence about his leaving. Sensing someone watching their exchange, he turned his head to find Ricardo using the door of the Jeep to hold himself upright. "Need a hand?" he offered.
Ricardo waved him off.
"You know, I never did hear how you two know each other," Maddy stated, her eyebrows pulling together in a frown of confusion.
Lucía saved Sam from having to answer as she rushed out of the house to assist her husband. Sam turned his attention to Maddy. "Can we talk?" he added, gesturing toward her front stoop.
"Of course. I'm so glad I got to see you again."
The roof's eave cast a blessedly cool shadow over them. Maddy visibly struggled to keep her smile pinned in place as she took both his hands in hers, squeezed them, and looked up at him. They said nothing for a moment, just gazed into each other's eyes. Sam thought of everything he'd been through with her and how damn lucky she was to be alive.
"Have you gone out and run your tests yet?" he finally asked.
"Not yet. I need Ricardo's help to talk to the Guaraní. They're the ones who can lead us to the right place. He's handy with a gun, too." She wet her lips with a little glide of her tongue that jolted his pulse and fueled his libido.
"Good. I didn't like the thought of you doing it alone," he admitted. Her scare with the terrorists had apparently left her with a modicum of common sense, thank God.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a careless-looking gesture. "So, you're leaving—like, right now?" Her plaintiff tone betrayed her actual disappointment.
He felt a little better hearing that she was as dismayed to let him go as he was to leave. "Yeah," he admitted. "In a couple of hours."
"It seems like you just got here."
To Sam, it had felt like an eternity—especially those three days in which Maddy had been held hostage.
"Do you have time to come in?" she asked earnestly.
He cast an assessing glance at the facility across the street. It was impossible to tell through the thick brick walls and narrow windows how frantically the SEALs were packing up their equipment, preparing to go wheels up before the press arrived looking for answers. He looked again into her lovely face.
"My CO wants me to ask you to abstain from talking to the press if they request an interview," he said.
"Okay." She gave a visible shudder. "I'd rather not relive that experience anyway."
"Thanks." He stole a peek at his watch. He was supposed to come right back. But Bronco and Bullfrog would cover for him for at least another ten minutes. "I guess I could come in. I've got a couple of minutes, at least."
Brightening, she pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door for them.
As the door swung open, he swept her into the cool entryway, shut the door behind them and pressed her up against it, not wasting a second. Catching her sweet lips beneath his, he kissed her with all the desperate hunger that burned inside of him. He couldn't get enough of her, certainly not in the short amount of time they had.
Luckily for him, she seemed to feel the same way. Delving both hands under his T-shirt, she lightly scraped and kneaded his chest, arousing him so thoroughly that the bedroom seemed impossibly far away. He hauled his T-shirt over his head and divested her of her tank top. To his gratification she wasn't wearing a bra. He didn't have the patience or the time to deal with tricky little latches.
Gathering her beautiful breasts in his hands, he bent his head to feast on the firm, velvety buds. She slid her fingers through his hair, guiding his mouth from one nipple to the other, arching with visible pleasure. "Oh, Sam."
Oh, Sam, what? There seemed to be more words hovering on the tip of her tongue. He sank slowly to his knees, laving and nibbling a path down her hourglass shape. He released the button on her shorts and peeled them over her hips, kissing every inch of pale skin as he exposed it.
"Have mercy," she panted, sounding on the verge of bursting into laughter.
He speared his tongue into the curls at the apex of her thighs.
"Oh, God."
He did it again and again, causing her to moan and fall back, her shoulders propped against the door. Looking up the length of her luscious body, Sam watched with fascination as she visibly melted—eyes growing limpid, her dewy lips parting. Heat radiated off her body while that scent that had driven him crazy since he'd first met her rose into his nostrils, robbing him of all logical thought.
"Sam, please," she begged, tugging at his hair to get him to rise. "I need you. I need you with me now."
Her fingers went straight to his fly the moment he gained his feet. She released his arousal with sure hands and guided him between her legs in a blatant request to be filled—right here, right now. Hands on her bottom, he lifted her against him, found her slick entrance and slid home in one deep thrust.
Her cry of exhilaration inflamed him. She locked her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips and matched his frenzy as he drove himself into her. His mouth slanted over hers as they raced forward, trying to keep pace with cruel time that, even now, seemed to be pulling them apart.
Suddenly Maddy tensed, shouting his name on such a rapturous note that it unraveled him completely. Ecstasy exploded in Sam, rupturing like a volcano that sent magma spewing in all directions. He pushed his face into her neck with a muted roar, his knees threatening to buckle under the torrent of bliss that rained down on him. Holy God, that was...
Unprotected, again, his conscience pointed out.
Shit, he had a condom in his pocket and he'd totally forgotten to use it.
Reality sobered him at once. With his heart still racing, he let Maddy's feet slide down to the floor. Her legs nearly folded before she caught herself. Her suspiciously bright eyes wrested his thoughts from his deplorable lack of self-control.
"Don't be sad," he ordered, speaking as much to himself as to her.
"I'm not," she said, but she averted her face, bending down to pull her pants up.
"I'll come up and see you as soon as you get back to McLean," he promised, alleviating the weight on his own chest. "I've got your number now." After the effort it had taken to secure her number in order to find her phone, he'd promptly memorized all ten digits.
She sniffed lightly, wiped her nose, and looked up, sending him a brave smile. "Okay. I'll see you soon then," she added.
He loved how brave she was, how independent. She didn't cling to him like other women he'd been with—women who'd chased after him for the status it brought them to date a Navy SEAL. Maddy didn't seem to give a damn about status, perhaps because she already had it.
Cupping her face in his hands, he memorized the pattern of blues and grays in her irises, the cut above her eyebrow—it might leave a scar. Her freckle-dusted nose, the curve of her irreverent mouth. Just looking at her and knowing how much he would miss looking at her made his heart hurt.
"My uncle asked me to dinner tonight," she volunteered. "I'm going to take up Salim's complaints with him."
Sam envisioned Paul Van Slyke's charismatic smile with inexplicable reservation. On the one hand, he was glad Maddy had family in this region, someone influential to turn to if she needed help. On the other, he still resented the man for presuming the SEALs were here to protect his interests, not American interests. "Something tells me he won't be very receptive."
She shrugged. "Probably not, but when did a little resistance ever stop me?" She shot him her one-of-a-kind grin.
"True." Resistance only doubled her determination. They were rather alike in that regard. "Wow, I just realized someth
ing," he admitted, giving voice to his discovery.
"What's that?"
"When you told me on the aircraft carrier that we're the same, you were right." He regarded her, dumbstruck. It was suddenly so clear to him. "We're exactly alike."
She play-punched him in his bare abs. "Now you admit it!"
He caught her wrist as she went to hit him again. "Hey, I'm just a little slow when it comes to these things," he confessed. "But then you don't listen so well yourself."
Her eyebrows snapped together. "How do I not listen?" she demanded.
He pointed a finger at her. "I told you to stay out of the hot spots."
She glared for a second at the finger then snapped her teeth as if to bite it off, and he drew it back with a laugh. "Okay, no lectures. Just a kiss, then."
Her eyes floated shut as she offered her lips up to him. He memorized the texture, the taste of her and then lifted his head regretfully. Her eyes opened again, misty with emotion, but she kept her mouth shut, withholding words she might regret, the same way he was.
Time would tell if they'd started something that could last.
"See you around, Lieutenant," she finally said, in a husky voice. He immediately recognized the parting words as the same farewell she'd tossed at him aboard the aircraft carrier.
A smile overcame his despondency. "I'm counting on it, Miss Scott." With that, he scooped his shirt up off the floor, glancing surreptitiously at his watch as he tunneled into it. Bronco and Bullfrog were probably hating him right now.
Chucking Maddy under the chin, he took one last look at her and let himself out.
* * *
Maddy leaned against the cool wood of the door, eyes closed, replaying her last few minutes alone with Sam. Unconsciously, her hands strayed up to cup her bare breasts as she relived the passion between them—passion attested by the sticky moisture seeping out of her.
Her condo seemed suddenly empty with him gone. She hadn't felt this lonely since her mother's death.
For once, she looked forward to going home to her father, but only because Sam would come and visit her there. As long as some new assignment didn't whisk him away, as long as she didn't feel compelled to address another global concern, they would date each other.
What will that look like? she wondered. Virginia Beach wasn't situated particularly close to northern Virginia, which meant they'd have to invest in a long-distance relationship.
With a shrug, she told herself they'd cross that bridge when they got to it. For now, the prospect of a relationship was exciting and new. And Sam had finally realized what she'd known all along—that they had more in common than met the eye.
With a sad but stoic sigh, Maddy snatched up her top and carried it to her bedroom in lieu of putting it back on. Her uncle's bodyguard was scheduled to pick her up at 5 PM. She had two hours in which to shower and dress and find something presentable to wear.
* * *
"Master Chief, what time did we tell the liaison officer we wanted the bus here?"
With an impatient stride, Mad Max paced the cafeteria where all thirty five members of his task unit waited with their gear to be taken to the runway. The room was packed with bodies and gear, and not nearly enough air coming through the open windows.
Kuzinsky stole a peek at his watch. "Half an hour ago, sir, but we're on South American time, remember?"
In South America, any scheduled event was going to run about an hour behind. As Mad Max muttered an oath and resumed his pacing, Sam went back to staring out the window at the Paraguayan Special Forces members wrestling in the yard behind the cafeteria. But he wasn't really watching them. He was missing Maddy, worrying that something would happen to her before they got together again.
A hand settled on his shoulder. "You okay, sir?"
Sam looked over to find Bullfrog standing behind him. Damn, and here he'd thought he was fooling everyone, even himself, by behaving outwardly cavalier about leaving her behind. "Yeah, sure," he said, turning slightly to acknowledge Bullfrog's concern.
Hazel eyes, so intelligent and discerning, studied his face with empathy that only magnified Sam's private despair.
Bullfrog sent him a pained smile. "Sucks to be in love," he observed before moving away.
Sam stared after the petty officer's retreating back and wondered what his medic knew about love. He'd never seen Jeremiah do anything but share polite conversation with the women at the club. He didn't go out and party, didn't go through girls like they were candy the way Bronco did. Sam had even wondered once if Jeremiah might be gay, except he'd never caught him staring at guys the way he stared at girls. Sucks to be in love, he'd said, making Sam wonder if Bullfrog wasn't committed to some woman he'd never mentioned. On the heels of that realization came stark and scary self-discovery.
Oh, hell. I am in love, he acknowledged. In love with the daughter of a billionaire. And I don't even like rich people.
The squeaking of the cafeteria door drew the attention of everyone in the room, including Sam. Instead of the liaison officer they were all expecting, Bamm-Bamm rushed into the room, a barely contained grin on his face. The CO and Kuzinsky regarded him with confusion, then looked over at Sam and Bronco, who headed in Bamm-Bamm's direction under the guise of chewing him out. Poor kid, he'd only been doing what his platoon leader had instructed—to make sure Maddy got safely into her uncle's car when he came to pick her up.
"Sir!" Bamm-Bamm exclaimed, his brown eyes dancing with excitement.
"Dial it down, PO3," Sam growled, blocking the CO and Master Chief's view by standing between them and the young SEAL.
"But you won't believe it," he gushed. He bounced on the balls of his feet, too excited to be still.
Bronco threw an arm around his shoulders to constrain his exuberance. "Believe what?" he demanded.
"The guy driving the car—her uncle's bodyguard. He's The Annihilator!"
"The what?" Bronco said.
"Who?" Sam asked.
"The 2005 World Wrestling Federation champion!" Bamm-Bamm practically bellowed. "Elliot Koch, The Annihilator."
Sam frowned at him. Okay, so maybe that was why Van Slyke's bodyguard had looked familiar. He used to be on TV.
"Is that a joke?" Bronco demanded with mock seriousness. "Elliot Cock, as in penis?"
"No, chief. It's a German name."
"Spell it for me."
"K-O-C-H." Bamm-Bamm rolled his eyes, clearly aware that Bronco was having fun with him. "I know it was him because I saw his championship ring—size of an egg—right there on his right hand."
Something in Sam's head went click. A vision of the bejeweled fist arcing toward his jaw had him sucking in a gasp of astonishment.
"What'd it look like?" he demanded, but he didn't really need to hear Bamm-Bamm's description of a thick gold band topped with a topaz the size of a small boulder. He'd already known in his bones that Van Slyke's bodyguard was Lyle Scott's would-be assassin. That was why he'd looked familiar. And—oh, shit—Maddy was having dinner with the man who'd probably ordered Elliot Koch to shoot her father. But what the hell? Why would a member of Lyle's own family want him dead? The motivation became appallingly apparent. With Lyle Scott out of the picture, Van Slyke would be the real CEO of Scott Oil, not just a puppet or a stand-in.
"Sir?" Bronco queried at the look of horror that Sam couldn't have hidden if he'd tried.
He dragged his fingers through his hair, considering his options. With no time to explain himself to Bronco, he broke away and hurried up to his CO and Kuzinsky. "Sir, there's a situation," he announced with a tremor in his voice. Bronco and Bamm-Bamm had come up behind him.
"What kind of situation?" Mad Max's expression conveyed an unwillingness to acknowledge any situation that potentially delayed their departure.
"You remember the assassination attempt on Lyle Scott?"
The CO nodded. "The one you thwarted?"
Sam had been forced to share the details when the FBI contacted his CO for witness verif
ication purposes.
"Yes, sir. I just realized who the shooter was—it's Van Slyke's bodyguard. I knew the man looked familiar, but I didn't know why until Bamm-Bamm mentioned that he used to be a famous wrestler. That's how he flipped me over and got the better of me, sir. And now Maddy's alone with him and the uncle who wants her father out of the picture so that he can own Scott Oil outright."
"Slow down, Sam." The CO's deep-set eyes had narrowed into slits. "You're telling me that the CEO of Scott Oil, that pompous cowboy we met the other night, wants the old CEO, Maddy Scott's father, dead?"
"Yes, sir. That's exactly what I'm saying. She can't be safe with him."
Mad Max stroked his walrus-like mustache, saying nothing. In desperation, Sam turned to appeal to the master chief. "I can't leave her with her uncle, Master Chief. I have a really bad feeling about this. Please," he looked back at the CO. "Just give me permission to stay behind."
"Denied," said the CO flatly. "How would you get back?"
Sam thought fast. "Through our CIA contact, Ricardo Villabuena. I'm sure he's got connections."
But the CO simply shook his head. "Forget it. We don't leave men behind."
"Unless they're on leave," Kuzinsky finished.
Mad Max slanted him a funny look.
"I have a leave-chit in my briefcase," the master chief volunteered, picking up the hard-shell case at his feet and laying it on a nearby table. His poker face betrayed no emotion whatsoever as he thumbed the combination lock and popped open the tabs on either side. "Something told me you might need a few more days here," he added pulling out the sheet in question. "All it requires is a signature," he added, handing it to the CO.
Sam didn't know who was more amazed by Kuzinsky's forethought—him or Mad Max. His heart thudded painfully as the CO slowly took the sheet and read it over. Picturing Maddy in the clutches of her uncle was making his heart race. Just sign it already, he willed the CO.
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