Aim for the Heart

by Ingrid Weaver

  But he wasn't the only one seeing things from a new perspective. Was this what he meant by an intuitive leap? She eased her hands from his. Instead of leaving, she framed his face between her palms. "Hawk, I know we should be reassessing our options and coming up with a contingency plan in the light of what you learned today…"

  "But?"

  "But what would you do if I told you that I was afraid?"

  A muscle in his jaw twitched against her thumb. Other than that he kept himself completely motionless. "If you told me you were afraid, I would ask you if you would let me hold you."

  "Would you think I was weak?"

  His gaze moved over her face. "Never, Sarah. I would feel honored by your trust."

  She touched her index fingers to the laugh lines beside his eyes. "And if we were standing on a street corner and I said it wasn't only the cold wind that was making my eyes water…"

  "I would do my best to keep you warm." He stroked her hair. "And I would admire you for your strength to stand up to whatever storm was causing your tears."

  "But would you expect me to be strong?"

  "I only expect you to be Sarah."

  The reply was so typical of Hawk's insight, she caught her breath on a sob. "Hawk," she whispered. "I can't do this alone anymore. I am scared."

  He didn't ask. He reached behind her to shut off the bathtub faucets, then slipped one hand behind her back, the other beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms.

  Sarah felt something crumble inside her. There was a moment of panic—the habits of a lifetime were hard to break—but then Hawk brushed his lips against her forehead and Sarah felt the first of her tears carve a path down her cheek.

  Hawk swept it away with the tip of his tongue. His tenderness didn't make her feel weak, it made her feel…cherished. The heat and strength of his body surrounded her. His embrace was more comforting than sexual, yet it was more intimate than anything she'd experienced before. She didn't want distance. This was what real closeness was about. She looped her arms around his neck as she dried her cheek on his shoulder.

  He carried her to the bedroom and over to the portholes. Two tables were stacked on top of each other beneath one. A lamp burned on top of them, its bulb positioned against the glass. The sight of their meager attempt at a signal made Sarah shiver, but Hawk pulled her more tightly to his chest. "Look out there, Sarah," he said, stopping in front of a different porthole. He braced his feet apart, holding her gently while his body swayed to counteract the movement of the ship. "It's a world of infinite possibilities. We have to believe we're going to make it out of here somehow."

  She looked at the darkness, but all she could see was their reflection.

  Another piece of her armor crumbled. The sight of Hawk's face aligned with hers, his gaze strong and steady as he focused on the unknown, seemed completely…right.

  Sarah wasn't sure when she realized for certain that she loved him. The knowledge had been there for some time, but she hadn't wanted to admit what she was seeing. She wasn't deliberately looking for the answer. Sometime between one heartbeat and the next, it simply happened.

  Why now? she thought. They might not live past tomorrow. It was a cruel twist of timing, like the breakthrough in Hawk's research. This should have been a cause for celebration, too. Instead, she was achingly conscious of how fragile—and how fleeting—it all could be.

  She would never be able to go back in time and call Jackson "Kyle." She might not have the chance to plant a garden of her own or bring a bouquet of fresh roses into her own house. At least she could spend her remaining time with Hawk without regrets, couldn't she?

  She slid out of his embrace to stand in front of him and locked her hands behind his waist. "Hawk, whatever happens tomorrow, I want you to know I don't blame you."

  He kissed her forehead.

  "You're a good man. If life was fair…"

  His breath tickled her temple. "If life was fair, we'd still be in my hotel room in Stockholm, living off room service and telling the world to go to hell."

  Her eyes misted again. Could it have been as easy as he made it sound?

  "What's the first thing you're going to do when you get home, Sarah?"

  That depends on how much of me is left, she thought. She pushed the thought away. He was trying to think positive, so she would, too. There were changes she wanted to make. Where could she start? "I'm going to get a cat."

  "A cat? Why?"

  "When the general and I lived in Germany, we had a gray tabby cat who came with the house. We left him behind when we moved, but I always wanted another one. I never told him that. When I get home, I'm going to go down to the animal shelter and adopt one."

  "That sounds like a good idea." He eased his fingers through her hair. "What else?"

  "Remember that blue dress I wore to the reception?"

  "How could I forget?"

  "I didn't buy that only because I needed it for the reconnaissance mission. I bought it because it was gorgeous. As shallow as that is, I liked the way it made me feel, and I liked the way it made your eyes darken when you looked at me. It's the same as my lace underwear. I'm going to buy more clothes like that when I get home."

  "I look forward to seeing you wear them."

  She had an image of herself in the blue dress. But it had an empty sleeve. She splayed her hands on Hawk's back and spoke quickly. "What kind of music do you like, Hawk?"

  "Beethoven or Schubert when I'm working. The Stones when I'm driving. What about you?"

  "I like Harry Connick, Jr. And Diana Krall. I always wanted to learn to play the piano when I was a kid. I never told my father that, either. When I get home…" Her fingers clenched. There might not be any point taking piano lessons. So much wasted time. So many regrets. Was she going to add another one to the list? She turned her face to Hawk's chest.

  Should she tell him she loved him? He was already dealing with enough grief. He was trying so hard to protect her. What would it do to him if she lost a hand tomorrow? He would be devastated. He'd hold himself responsible. He might even pity her…. No, she wouldn't do that to him. "Did you know I lied to you?"

  "What? When?"

  "That afternoon on the bridge. Before we were taken. I said the sex wasn't that good."

  He drew back his head to look at her. His eyes gleamed.

  Had she thought the embrace wasn't sexual? Oh, yes, the awareness was always there. It took only one glance for it to surface. She felt her body soften. "The sex was more than good," she said. "It was awesome."

  His lips curved into a slow and lusciously sexy smile. He grasped her waist, his thumbs stroking along her midriff to the underside of her breasts. "Awesome. I like that."

  She lowered her hands to his buttocks and squeezed gently. "I liked it, too."

  "With everything else that's happened, I never got the chance to tell you…"

  "Tell me what, Hawk?"

  He paused. His thumbs whispered higher. "How much I needed you that night."

  Even through her clothes, his touch made her sway. "I think I knew. That's why I stayed."

  He pressed his knee to her thighs. "Was that the only reason?"

  "No." She eased her feet apart and leaned closer, feeling his thigh ride up between her legs. "Hawk, I need you tonight. Let's make love again."

  "Sarah—"

  "You said you wouldn't refuse." She moved her hands to his chest and undid the top button of his shirt. She stretched up to lick the hollow at the base of his throat. "It's not like the last time. I'm scared, but I know what I'm doing. I'm not going to regret this."

  "Are you sure?"

  She stepped back, pulled off her sweater and dropped it to the floor. Looking him straight in the eye, she peeled off the rest of her clothes and smiled. "What do you think?"

  For a breathless instant, Hawk didn't move. He stood and stared, his body trembling. Then he reached out and cupped her breasts in his hands. "Sarah, I don't really want to think anymore."

&nb
sp; She finished unbuttoning his shirt and tugged it out of his pants. "Good. I don't really want to talk anymore, either."

  He ended their conversation the same way he'd ended one once before. He leaned forward and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

  Sarah fisted her hands in his shirt as a bolt of pure delight shot through her. She arched more firmly into his kiss, yanking his shirt over his shoulders. It caught at his elbows so she left it there and opened the front of his pants. He shuddered as she ran her nails down his hardness. When she closed her fingers around him, he squeezed her breasts and closed his teeth around her.

  Moist heat rushed between her legs. For lost, blissful minutes she took what he gave her and returned all she could until her knees no longer held her. She hooked her foot behind his calf and grabbed his shoulder in her free hand, lifting herself up to him.

  Hawk caught her by the waist, pressed her back to the wall between the portholes and pushed himself inside her.

  It was like the first time, and yet it was different. The urgency was the same. Sarah clasped his hips with her thighs and rode his thrusts, her body rippling around him in wave after shimmering wave. Yet the pleasure came from a source deeper than the friction of their joined bodies.

  Hawk kicked free of his pants and carried her to the bed. He came down on top of her, slick and still hard between her thighs. They slid together again, finding the angle, falling into the rhythm as easily as old lovers, their kisses flavored with need and yearning. The world contracted, leaving no room for fear or the unknown of tomorrow.

  They had talked about going home. Sarah realized that in her heart she already was.

  She wrapped her arms around Hawk's back and felt the tremors of his release send her soaring through her own.

  There was a muffled clang. The bed shook. It wasn't from anything they were doing.

  Hawk lifted his head. He looked around.

  It took Sarah a critical second to switch gears. She lay on her back, trying to catch her breath. The clang, the vibrations, it was like…a concussion grenade. She grasped Hawk's shoulders and looked past him toward the door. She strained to listen over the pounding of her pulse….

  No, it wasn't her pulse.

  It was gunfire.

  Oh, God. Was it possible? Could it really be happening?

  Hawk sat up, pulling her with him. "Sarah, do you hear it?"

  She listened to the gunfire. Jibril's men carried Kalashnikovs, but those shots sounded like they had come from an M4 assault rifle, one of the weapons used by…

  She got to her knees and grabbed his hand. "Hawk, they're here! Eagle Squadron's here!"

  Chapter 14

  Sarah jumped off the bed. Her senses expanded to the hyperawareness of battle. Time didn't slow, it screamed past. She had to absorb it all at once.

  The gunfire came from overhead and was drawing closer. The team must have arrived by air. A parachute drop? Quick descent from a helicopter? There was another bang, this one from the direction of the corridor. More shots, close enough for her to distinguish the whine of ricocheting bullets.

  She struggled to assess the clues in the sounds, but her expanded senses also caught Hawk's scent, and the warm imprint of his chest that lingered on her breasts….

  Her pulse raced. She couldn't fight it. She didn't even try. She knew she couldn't push her feelings aside and be objective. This was as personal as it got.

  Yet she didn't feel as if her emotions were blocking her abilities; they were enhancing them. The team was here. Suddenly there was a chance for Hawk and for her and for the love she'd just discovered. She wanted that chance so badly she was shaking.

  She yanked on her clothes, then ran to put her ear to the door.

  Hawk got dressed and came up behind her. He didn't touch her—he knew she liked room to move—yet she felt his presence as vividly as she heard the crack of the high-caliber weapon on the other side of the door. A voice called out orders in Arabic. Sarah caught Hawk's hand and pulled him to the floor. "We'd better stay low," she said, flattening herself out. "I know these walls are thick, but the high-caliber rounds might pierce—"

  Hawk slid on top of her back, the same way he had the last time they'd been under fire.

  She didn't protest. She knew it was no use. If she had the weight and strength to get her way, she'd be doing the same thing for him.

  The gunfire was getting closer. The very fact that she could hear gunfire meant the rescue wasn't going to be neat. On most missions, the teams from Eagle Squadron were good enough to get in and get out before anyone knew they had arrived. They preferred to use stealth rather than firepower. When they did engage the enemy, it was usually a short fight. This was already going on longer than it should have.

  She moved her arm along the floor until she could reach Hawk's hand. He kissed her ear and laced his fingers with hers.

  It was so close it was painful. After so many days of barely daring to hope, it was torture to know her friends might be only a few yards away. Had they realized Jibril had manned the ship with Moukim palace guards? Gathering intelligence for a mission was usually her job. She could only pray someone else had cared enough to do it right.

  And what were the defenses Jibril had boasted about? He'd mentioned bullet-proof glass, a triple hull and a superstructure built to tank specs. What other surprises did the Faith hold?

  There was a sudden, vicious exchange of fire from the far end of the corridor, followed by a sharp pop. There was an ominous lull.

  She thought about the tactics the team might use to neutralize resistance in a small space. When firepower didn't work, they would lob in a canister of…

  "Gas." Sarah drew in her breath. She tasted a faint, sour tang. "Hawk, they're using gas!"

  Before she could give him instructions, Hawk had pushed himself off her and was sprinting to the bathroom. She followed and grabbed towels as he soaked them down. They stuffed the wet towels across the crack under the door while they held two more to their faces.

  "The gas isn't toxic," she said. "It would just knock us out, but we'd be more help if we could walk on our own when they get here."

  He looked at her over the towel he held to his nose. "Is there anything else we can do?"

  "No."

  "So we wait?"

  "For now. We'll give them five minutes. The gas loses its potency fast. If they don't clear the corridor by then…"

  Hawk pressed his head to hers and waited. The faint background drone of the Faith's engines cut off. The ship began to roll with the swells.

  Something heavy hit the door. There was a burst of gunfire directly outside. Hawk yanked Sarah to the floor and spread-eagled himself over her back once more.

  Another thud. A muffled voice called out. This time, the words were in English. "Captain Fox?"

  It was crazy to feel tears. Sarah had been on enough missions to know this didn't mean they were home free yet, but the moment she heard the familiar voice, a sob of relief clogged her throat. She couldn't say a word. It was her friend Rafe Marek.

  Hawk lifted his head. "In here."

  "We're going to blow the lock in five," Rafe called.

  Sarah and Hawk dove for cover behind the bed. Five seconds later there was a flashing pop. The door swung inward through a cloud of smoke.

  Two tall commandos in full battle gear materialized through the smoke. Their faces were covered with gas masks. Grenades hung from their belts. Each man had a knife strapped to his calf, a sidearm at his thigh and an assault rifle in his hands. They were a pair of walking arsenals, but Sarah knew they didn't need the help of weapons to make them deadly.

  There was a sharp whistle from the corridor. At the signal, the larger man pulled his gas mask aside and let it dangle from his helmet. A grim, twisting network of scars gouged the entire right side of his face. He moved forward, his vibrant blue gaze fierce with concern. "Captain, are you all right?"

  She wiped her eyes and got to her knees. "No problem, Rafe. We're both fine
."

  Rafe held out his hand, but Hawk was already back on his feet, helping Sarah up. Sarah leaned into Hawk for a moment, waiting for her pulse to steady. She smoothed his hair, her fingers trembling. She was aching to kiss him, but she had a feeling that once she started, she wouldn't be able to stop.

  Hawk understood. Of course he would understand. She was back on duty now. He rested his hands at her waist and gave her a smile.

  Oh, how she loved this man.

  Rafe activated the transmitter that was attached to the radio gear on his helmet. "We've got them both, Major. They're unharmed."

  The second commando unfastened his mask. Sarah wasn't surprised to see it was Flynn O'Toole—if Rafe was around, Flynn wouldn't be far away. The two men were as different in appearance as they were in temperament, but they had watched each other's backs on every mission Sarah could remember.

  A crooked grin lit up Flynn's startlingly handsome face. "Evenin', Captain Fox." He tipped his head toward the lamp in front of the porthole. "Your buddies back at the Funny Platoon are going to bust a gut when I tell them about that beacon."

  She hiccupped on a laugh. Leave it to Flynn to come up with some irreverent comment. "It worked, didn't it?"

  "Yes, ma'am. It showed us which door to choose." He drew his pistol and offered it to her. "But it was a good thing you left a cyberspace bread crumb trail for us to follow here."

  She pulled away from Hawk in order to take the gun from Flynn. She ejected the magazine to check how many rounds were left, then shoved it back into place with the heel of her hand. "The cyberspace trail was Dr. Lemay's idea," she said

  "Right." Flynn's smile disappeared as he turned his gaze on Hawk. "The Major told us about you, Lemay. We need to have a talk on the ride home."

  "Yeah," Rafe said. "Count on it."

  Hawk put his hand on Sarah's shoulder. He was almost the same height as the other men. He met their stares over her head, his expression as sober as theirs. "I look forward to it, gentlemen."

  Despite the scattered gunfire she could still hear overhead, Sarah had a sudden urge to laugh. She knew what Rafe and Flynn were doing. They were giving notice they planned to interrogate Hawk because of what Redinger must have told them, and she would bet they wouldn't be as subtle about it as the Major had been.