Hard Asset: A Cobra Elite Novel

by Pamela Clare

  He checked on Shanti. She was still asleep, her breathing deep and even. Then he glanced at his watch.

  Roughly an hour till dawn.

  He’d gotten a solid three hours of sleep since his dick had woken him.

  He raised the rifle, glanced around them, checking for other intruders. Seeing nothing—no movement, no unreasonably huge arachnids, nothing that might find them tasty—he closed his eyes again.

  Ratatatat!

  Heavy AK fire poured out of a hut at the far end of the destroyed Syrian village, making it impossible for his team to make their exfil. Connor had thought they’d neutralized all of the hostiles when they’d arrived. Then again, fighting ISIS was like a game of asshole whack-a-mole.

  “How many hostiles?”

  “I’m guessing at least five.”

  “I’ve got this, chief,” Connor said. “I’ll work my way south. Keep them distracted. I’ll take them out, clear the house.”

  “Keep your head down, O’Neal.”

  “You got it.”

  Connor crept along the ground, rifle in hand, wind blowing sand into his mouth. It wasn’t far—half a city block by US standards—and his buddies were laying down some serious cover fire. Hell, he might not even have to toss a grenade if they kept that up. They might take these guys out before he got there.

  He reached the end of the village, took cover behind a low stone wall.

  Ratatatat! Ratatatat!

  Some bastard was still alive in there, keeping the men pinned down.

  Connor pulled a grenade off his belt, checked his aim, pulled the pin—and threw it. “Frag out!”

  A small child, a boy of maybe five years old, stepped out of the house, big brown eyes taking in what was left of his village.

  God, no!

  Why the hell hadn’t they known there were children inside?

  There was nothing Connor could do.

  But then the boy was gone, and Shanti stood in his place.

  How the hell had she gotten here?

  She smiled at him.

  “Run, Shanti!” he shouted for her, motioned frantically, knowing it was too late.

  BAM!

  The grenade detonated, shrapnel tearing Shanti apart, her blood spilling—

  “Connor!”

  Shanti tried to wake him from what was obviously a nightmare. “Connor!”

  His eyes flew open, anguish on his face. “Shanti?”

  He reached for her, searching her as if checking to make sure she was okay.

  “I heard you call my name. I thought Naing’s men were here, but you were having a bad dream.”

  “Shit.” He nodded. “Sorry.”

  “Last time, it was me who brought you running. I won’t keep count if you don’t.”

  He closed his eyes, the nightmare clearly still dragging at him.

  “I’m fine, see?” She took his hand, pressed it to her cheek.

  He drew a breath, exhaled, glanced at his watch. “It’s time to get up anyway—just a few minutes to sunrise.”

  Shanti stepped away from the mandir, needing privacy. When she returned, he had breakfast, such as it was, waiting for her.

  “Vegetable crackers, freaky cheese spread, and more Skittles.” He handed her a packet labeled Lemon Lime Beverage Powder, Carb Fortified. “Mix half of that in one of your bottles of water, give the rest to me. It will help keep you going.”

  While Shanti ate her breakfast, the monsoon forest came alive around them, birds erupting into song at first light, macaques screeching like drunk soccer fans. She could tell Connor was still upset about the nightmare, the line of his jaw hard. “Did I do something wrong? In your dream, I mean.”

  He took a bite of cracker, shook his head. “It wasn’t really about you.”

  Elizabeth’s words came back to her.

  There’s no such thing as an uninjured soldier.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  Well, that was final.

  He popped his last cracker in his mouth, walked down the stairs and a short distance away, satellite phone in his hand. “I need to check in.”

  It was then that a slender ray of light played over one of the columns, revealing the stonework she hadn’t been able to see last night.

  She laughed, traced her fingers over small sculpted figures of men and women having sex in pretty much every way conceivable. She looked from one to the next, moving from column to column.

  She was still looking at the little figures when Connor returned.

  “What is it?”

  She pointed to an image of two women holding another woman’s legs apart while a man penetrated her. “Erotic art.”

  A dark brow arched. “On a temple?”

  “In the Hindu tradition, sex isn’t viewed as something dirty or sinful. It’s sacred, like other parts of life. It was Hindus who wrote the Kamasutra, remember?”

  “Kamasutra. Right.” He leaned in, looked at the carving of a man entering a woman from behind while she took another man’s cock into her mouth. “I can’t imagine what my folks would say if you put stone porn on their church.”

  That made Shanti laugh. “It’s not porn. It’s sacred.”

  “Okay. Sex is good. I’ll buy that.”

  Shanti leaned in to examine another. A woman stood, one leg around her lover’s waist, while he penetrated her. “You’d have to be close to the same height to do that.”

  “Not necessarily.” He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Want to try?”

  A jolt of lust shot through her. “Aren’t we running from the bad guys?”

  “We can be quick.”

  That meant no orgasm for her. Still, she’d be lying if she’d said looking at all this erotic art hadn’t made her want him.

  Take what you can while you’re with him. You could end up dead today.

  He moved in on her, backed her up against the column, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her belly, making her womb clench. “The first dream I had last night was about fucking you. I woke up with a hard-on. You were sound asleep.”

  “I’m wide awake now.”

  “Is that a ‘yes’?”

  “Yes.”

  He unzipped her jeans, slipped a hand inside her panties, moaned. “God, you’re already wet.”

  She might have said something, but he found her clit. Oh, he hadn’t forgotten anything he’d learned about her body the other night, sweet strokes making her ache. Soon, she was grinding against his hand, the first glow of orgasm building inside her.

  Un-freaking-believable.

  Abruptly, he stepped back, jerked off her jeans and panties, and unzipped his fly, letting his erection spring free. Then he grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her off her feet. “Wrap your leg around my waist.”

  His voice was gruff, his eyes dark.

  She tried to do what she’d seen in the sculpture, wrapping one leg around him while standing on the other, but he was too tall, her left leg dangling. “To hell with it.”

  She wrapped both legs around him, moaning with pleasure when he thrust himself into her. It felt so good, so good, his deep thrusts striking that sensitive place inside her.

  She came hard and fast, her cry lost in the noise of the jungle.

  Jaw tight, he withdrew, set her on her feet. Shanti knelt before him, finished him with her hand, his head falling back on a moan as he came.

  He rocked on his feet, reached out with one arm to steady himself, palm against the column. He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her nose. “You are too much.”

  “Are you telling me you’ve never had hot jungle sex before?”

  “Apart from you? No. I’ve only ever been in the jungle with sweaty men, and they’re not my type.”

  “Well, I’ve never come that fast before.”

  “Really?” He frowned. “We need to talk about the kind of men you date.”

  “There haven’t been many.”

  “Good.”

&nbs
p; “Are you jealous?”

  “Why should I be jealous of losers who couldn’t make you come?”

  Shanti’s knees turned to jelly.

  He got out the towelettes, helped her clean up and dress. “Time to go. Today is going to be a long day. I’ll fill you in along the way.”

  15

  Invigorated by sex, Connor led Shanti northwest, sharing what Shields had told him but leaving out the plans for a possible emergency exfil. He didn’t want to get her hopes up only to dash them if the plans fell through.

  “How are we going to cross the river if all the bridges are under guard?”

  “That’s what I have to figure out. If I take out the soldiers on and around the bridge, they’ll know pretty quickly where we are and bring everything they have down on us. I need to find another way.”

  “I can swim.”

  “Good to know.” He wasn’t sure anyone could swim this, but he didn’t say so.

  Shields had said that the river, which cut through a deep gorge, was flowing high and fast now because of the monsoon. Naing was concentrating his army there, using the river as a choke point, knowing that, sooner or later, they would have to cross it if they wanted to make it back to Bangladesh.

  Connor set a tough pace, and soon Shanti was breathing hard. He tried to offer her some encouragement. “We came thirty-two miles yesterday. I want to do the same today, river or no river.”

  That sounded less like encouragement and more like a command, so he tried again. “You’re doing great, Shanti.”

  They’d been moving at a good clip for about an hour when he once again heard the distant whir of helicopter rotors, this time to the east. “They’re far away—for now.”

  But that didn’t last. By the time they stopped to rest just after noon, they’d had to take cover from helicopters twice.

  “I thought … yesterday was hard.” Shanti tried to catch her breath, strands of dark hair that had escaped her braid sticking to her sweaty cheeks.

  “You know what Navy SEALs say.”

  She shook her head. “What?”

  “‘The only easy day was yesterday.’ SEALs do like to whine.”

  That made her smile.

  They ate one energy bar each, washed it down with water.

  Connor kept his poncho tucked into his belt, as they were likely to need to camouflage themselves again at a moment’s notice. “Shields says Naing’s army is concentrated along this side of the river. The closer we get, the greater the chance of running into his troops. Keep quiet and pay close attention.”

  “I understand.”

  They pushed on, heading northwest, afternoon clouds moving in. They crossed another creek and were headed uphill when Connor heard the sound of rushing water. He followed it west through vines and bamboo canes, hoping it might be a spring or a cleaner source of water than the creek, which was muddy enough to put his filter out of commission.

  A little waterfall. It spilled from a height of about twenty feet, joining the creek below, flowers blooming in vines on both sides. The water was cold and clear.

  “Perfect.”

  Shanti caught up with him. “It looks like a postcard.”

  “We’ll stop here, refill our water bottles.”

  Drinkable water was the first rule of survival.

  He took out his filter and collected their empty bottles.

  “If this is going to take a while, can I undress and take a shower?”

  “If you’re quick. It’s going to be cold.”

  She took out the soap, stripped out of her clothes, which she laid out on a rock, and walked, naked and beautiful, past flowering vines to the waterfall.

  Something stirred inside Connor at the sight of her, something beyond sexual desire, something more primal.

  Shanti was Eve. She was a goddess. She was life itself.

  She ought to have been carved in stone and put on a temple—those lush breasts, her slender waist, the flare of her hips. He would have worshipped at that altar.

  She stepped into the water, gasping as it spilled over her, her nipples instantly drawing tight. “Oh!”

  Connor couldn’t take his gaze off her any more than he could quit grinning, the sight both arousing and funny. He’d never seen anyone take such a fast or fumbling shower. It lasted a minute tops, Shanti rubbing the soap over her skin and even in her hair and then letting the waterfall rinse her clean.

  She stepped out of the water, arms crossed over her chest to warm her. “I can’t believe how cold that was, but, oh, it felt good. You should try it. I dare you.”

  “You dare me?” Okay, he was dumb and male enough to take her up on that. “You take over filtering water when you’re dressed again.”

  He showed her what to do. Then he stripped, grabbed the soap, and walked to the waterfall to show her how he handled a cold shower.

  The moment the water hit his skin, he sucked in a breath, stunned, his balls retreating into his abdominal cavity. “Son of a …!”

  Shanti laughed. “Told you so.”

  Connor led Shanti through a ravine, climbing over fallen bamboo canes and half-rotted teak logs, careful with every step. He’d already seen a few snakes.

  The ground began to rise again, the forest canopy thinning. From somewhere ahead, he heard it—men’s voices.

  He motioned for Shanti to get down. “Stay here.”

  She nodded, eyes wide.

  He moved silently uphill, dropping to his belly and inching forward as he neared the edge of the forest.

  Fuck.

  He counted thirty soldiers, some milling around, others manning a roadblock on what must have been a highway. All were heavily armed, mostly with Chinese weapons—Norinco QBZ-95s with bayonets attached.

  These bastards weren’t fucking around.

  A farmer rode up to the roadblock with a hay wagon only to be stopped while soldiers stabbed at the hay with bayonets.

  Then, out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw something moving in the grass toward him. A cobra. It was probably attracted to his scent.

  Ah, shit.

  It was time to get out of here.

  He began to scoot backward, froze. One of the soldiers was headed his way.

  Connor hoped Shanti was paying attention and had the sense to get down and hide. He drew out his pistol, knowing that if he fired, he would give himself and Shanti away and bring the rest of those soldiers rushing into the ravine.

  The soldier stopped at the edge of the forest about twenty feet to his left, unzipped his fly, and pissed in the grass.

  Great.

  Connor didn’t feel like dying because some fucker needed to take a leak. He looked from the soldier to the snake and back again.

  The soldier froze, slowly drew his sidearm.

  Connor tensed, sure the bastard had seen him.

  No, the muzzle wasn’t pointed at him. It was aimed at the snake.

  If the soldier missed and came closer, he would see Connor. He might even be able to make out Shanti.

  BAM!

  The snake jerked and lay still.

  Connor held his breath as the soldier walked over to his kill, picked it up, and turned to show it to his friends, somehow not seeing Connor, who lay in the grass a mere three feet away. The soldier walked back to the others, showing off his prize.

  Holy shit!

  Connor exhaled, backed away from the road and down into the ravine, making his way slowly and silently toward Shanti.

  She lay in the undergrowth, a look of terror on her face. She threw herself into his arms when he reached her, holding onto him as if their lives depended on it. “I thought he’d seen you. I thought he was going to kill you. And then the snake…”

  Warmth blossomed behind his breastbone to know she cared. “For a minute there, I wasn’t sure which one of them would have the honors—him or the cobra.”

  But they didn’t have time for this.

  “The forest ends up ahead at a highway. Troops have set up a roadblock—
about thirty hostiles with rifles and bayonets.”

  “Bayonets?”

  “We need to backtrack.” He saw the fear on her face, touched a hand to her cheek. “Hey, it’s okay. They don’t know we’re here.”

  He led her back the way they’d come then pushed more to the west. Once again, they reached the highway—it was nothing more than a two-lane dirt road—but this time there were no soldiers.

  They crouched near the roadside, Connor listening for helicopters or approaching vehicles. “Go!”

  Shanti ran, heading for the cover of the forest on the other side, Connor beside her, rifle at the ready.

  “That’s one obstacle down. The bigger one lies ahead.”

  It was late afternoon when they reached the river.

  Shanti stared. “How can we cross that?”

  A torrent of muddy water rushed through a rocky gorge a hundred feet deep, tossing up foam, swirling in rocky eddies.

  Yeah, no way were they swimming that.

  Connor locked down his own emotional response. “Let’s work the problem.”

  He reached into his pack for his binoculars. “There are three suspension bridges—two to our north and one farther south. The bridges are under guard, so we need to find a safe place to downclimb, cross the river, and climb out again without being seen.”

  Hope seemed to fade from Shanti’s face. “What we need is wings—or a miracle.”

  “Don’t give up on me now, princess. We’ll make a miracle if we have to.” He kissed her, shouldered his rifle. “I’m going to do a little recon. Stay here. Keep low, and stay quiet. I won’t go far.”

  Exhaustion and despair on her face, Shanti plopped down on a rock.

  Connor walked along the rim of the gorge, looking for a good place to downclimb. The rock was solid with lots of holds. For a serious climber, it would be a piece of cake. He could probably manage it. But Shanti…

  Then he saw it just ahead—a cairn.

  He walked over to it, saw that it marked a stairway cut into the stone. The stairs went down about ten feet and seemed to stop at the edge of the cliff. He walked down the stairway, wondering who had carved it and why it was here—and then he saw.