Dead Reckoning

by Ronie Kendig

Freed, Shiloh stomped off to her hut. She hadn’t meant to wrestle with him, but he aggravated her to no end. Still … he might have gotten her this time, but she’d find a way to prove she could out-think him. If it took her to the end of her natural life.

  “I’ll be waiting, Blake.”

  Jaw clamped, she balled her fist.

  More laughter.

  Bring it on, Brutus.

  She waited through breakfast, through the noon meal, each time hoping a brilliant idea would leap into her mind so she could pay him back. There had to be a way to outsmart this fox. How exactly did one go about upstaging a U.S. government-trained operative who’d probably seen more brutality than one could imagine?

  Clunk!

  Shiloh jumped.

  Reece slid his tin plate across the picnic table and bent toward her. “Give up yet?”

  No way would he bait her that easily. She’d find the perfect opportunity. Patience, her new best friend, would afford her the prime moment. Then he’d know not to underestimate her again. He’d respect her, admire her.

  Miller joined them at the table. “Everything's set. We’ll head out under cover of night to the river, take it down to the bay.” He shoveled some curried chicken into his mouth. “I’ve tagged Stick and Bronco.”

  It felt like guppies scuttled through her stomach at the thought of the mission that would take her back to Mumbai. She stared at her food. The acrid odor clogged her throat. Fork set down, she sipped her water.

  “We’re ready.” Reece didn’t miss a beat in eating or answering.

  Shiloh considered him. “He's ready.”

  His gaze jerked to hers. “You chicken?”

  The accusation narrowed her eyes.

  “We’re ready,” he repeated.

  “Good enough. I’ll meet you two lovebirds at the dock at twenty-two hundred.”

  Blue-grey twilight hugged the sky. Reddish-orange streaks tucked the sun in for the night, drawing out the moon. Four hours ago, Miller had spoken words that put the fear of God into Reece. Responsible for every life on this mission, he railed at the thought of love being a factor in this gig.

  On the edge of his bunk, he sat with his fingers steepled and pressed to his forehead. He drew in a deep breath. God … He pulled his shoulders up a bit and sighed. What? Exactly what did he expect to hear God say about this? Too often man expected God to salvage the mess they made out of situations. He’d seen it time and again. People living the way they wanted, serving no one but themselves. Then when the first problem comes along, they slap God with the blame, expect Him to run SAR and drag their sorry carcasses out of the jungles of their own stupidity.

  No. He wouldn’t create a mess with this one. It’d happened once before and Chloe paid. Eyes closed, he clenched a fist. He’d hesitated … a deadly mistake with her life on the line.

  Weariness dragged his shoulders back down. He hung his head and stared at his boots. This close to the goal he couldn’t let anything interfere with the completion of this mission. Then he would escort her back to the States.

  If she goes back, I’ll never see her again.

  When she’d come up out of that water with Aras, Reece couldn’t believe his ears. She’d anticipated—longed for his return. Even now, nearly a full day later, the thought still poured lava through his mind. The way her grey-blue eyes sparkled with relief and … attraction—

  No.

  He grabbed his pack and stomped out of the hut. Get to Mumbai, get back, get her out. Three simple requisites haunted him as he strode into the thick humidity of the night. To the right, a screen clapped shut. He glanced over and spotted Shiloh heading his way.

  “Diving at night isn’t exactly smart.” She slung a pack over her shoulder.

  A smile tugged at his lips. Tenacity. That's probably the one thing he loved most about her. Loved? Muscles constricting, he stared at her.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to try anything when we’re diving.” A coy smile softened her features under the allure of the pale moon, reminding him of the night they’d first met.

  The team assembled around two trucks loaded with their equipment. Reece tossed his pack into the bed and checked the oxygen tanks. Satisfied, he stored them along the inner portion next to the ice chest holding MREs— the nasty meals-ready-to-eat—a first-aid kit, and emergency radios. He shook hands with Stick and the wall-of-a-man known as Bronco, assessing the men in that brief second.

  “Don’t worry, chief.” Stick grinned at Reece. “We got your back.”

  Bronco nudged the guy. “Goes without saying.”

  “Your priority is protecting our objective.” Reece darted his eyes toward Shiloh, then back to the guys. “No matter what happens, you get her out alive and unharmed, or you’ll deal with me.”

  Straightened, she planted her hands on her hips. “What about the ‘nothing's going to happen’ line you pitched me earlier?”

  “Let's go, people.” Miller climbed into the boat and started the prop.

  Reece waited for Stick and Bronco to take their places in the boat before he moved toward Shiloh. Her words had carried a light tone, but he could see the doubt rippling through her. Closer, he tried not to appear as though he towered over her. “Trust me.”

  “I always have.” Her soft words nearly escaped his hearing.

  Before he could muster a response, she climbed into the front passenger seat next to Miller. Over the next hour, Reece studied her profile, wondering what they’d find—if they found anything. When they arrived at the river, the team quickly unloaded the supplies into the dive prop. Shiloh settled on the far, middle side. Within minutes they were en route, the monotonous drone of the motor almost lulling him to sleep. He closed his eyes, relishing the words Shiloh had spoken.

  Exhaustion from the all-night excursion seeped into his bones. Reece allowed himself to drift into a light sleep, hoping to build some energy reserves for whatever they met on Mumbai Harbor.

  “Yeah, he can sleep in the middle of an RPG attack.” Miller's deep chuckle stirred Reece.

  Without peeking, Reece slid down so the back of his head rested against the rubber craft. “I get sleep when and where I can.”

  Dreams skittered through his awareness, flicking out just as quickly. Heaviness bore down on him. Angelic and serene, Shiloh's face floated before him. She stood in a wide meadow amid a billowing field of waist-high flowers, wearing a coral-colored sari and choli. She laughed—a sweet sound that filled the open area. A breeze swept over her long auburn strands, rustling them. Reece waited at the edge of the plain, watching, smiling. Then, something to the left dragged his attention away. A sign. Reece, look! Shiloh's laugh dissipated as he looked back—she held that rat of a monkey and laughed. Again, he glanced at the sign. landmines. His heart lurched. Something tugged at his hip.

  Reece's hand flew out. He tightened his grip around the little pickpocket.

  A whimper.

  Laughter jolted him from the nightmare. He blinked several times—and found blue-grey eyes staring back at him. Only then did realization hit—Shiloh was the thief.

  “Trying to disarm me?” Reece taunted as he pried her fingers from the handle of his knife.

  Stick and Bronco high-fived.

  Shiloh slumped back. “I had it.”

  “No, you almost had it,” Reece corrected, re-securing his Emerson.

  “She got farther than anyone else ever has,” Miller hollered over the drone of the engine.

  Her gaze skidded back to Reece's. He acknowledged the truth with a shrug. That's when he remembered the dream. His psyche had known she was there but didn’t register her as a threat. He stared at her. No, he didn’t ever want to think of her that way. Yet she was a threat to everything he’d carefully assembled and worked to protect. It gnawed at him to think of her at all in those terms. He’d give anything for her. And that fact unsettled everything in him.

  Within twenty minutes of the drop-off point, he and Shiloh assisted each other in gearing up. He
admired the fluidity and confidence with which she moved to get ready. No hesitation, no fear. This was familiar ground for her. He liked this version of Shiloh Blake. Could he get her thinking and acting like this in any situation?

  Definitely.

  The motor lulled to a stop, the boat rising and falling on the tidal pull of the waves.

  Sitting on the edge with his back to the water, Reece waited for her. She gripped his shoulder as she lowered herself into position.

  “Radio when you’re ready for extraction.” Miller slapped his back.

  Reece nodded and shifted to her. “Once in, regroup and we’ll tie off .” Regulator in his mouth, he shot a sidelong glance to Shiloh and lowered his mask. She did the same. Together, they flipped backwards into the water.

  Once they came to the surface, he used his carabiner and secured a tether between them. Hooked, they drifted down. Reece activated his halogen lamp several feet below water, and they began the mile-long swim east to the dead-drop. As they neared the coordinates, Miller radioed the all-clear. No unfriendlies sighted.

  Shiloh gave hand signals toward the last known location of the cylinder. He didn’t expect they’d find it—after all, more than a week had passed. His mind stalled on the revelation. A week, ten days? Is that all it’d been? He’d felt like he’d known Shiloh much longer. As if they’d spent years together.

  She swirled toward him. His light glanced off her neopreneclad form. She raised her hands in question. Pointing toward the surface, he paddled his feet. He slowed his ascent and let his head break the waterline slowly.

  Seconds later, Shiloh's face emerged inches from his. She tore her regulator out. “It's not here. What now?”

  He had to ask. “Are you sure you remember where it was?”

  “Positive. I remember taking the picture of it ne—” Her eyes widened. “The camera!”

  “What about it?”

  “I stuffed it in a locker at the hospital.”

  “Noor?”

  Shiloh nodded.

  He knew what she was thinking. And he didn’t like it. “Not safe.”

  “It's our only chance. If we can find it, we might be able to tell what it was, or what was in the cylinder.” Treading water, she stayed close. Her fingers grazed his arms.

  In dive suits, they’d be spotted instantly on the streets. “We’ll head back to the prop.” He rushed on before she could interrupt. “Let's bank, and get Miller to check it out.”

  She relented and within a half-hour, they were rumbling toward the rocky shoreline. Miller cut the engine and they used paddles to make a stealthy landing. They dragged the prop into a shady cove. Miller and Stick disappeared into the trees, aiming for Noor.

  Reece pried off the dive shirt and stuffed his arms into a clean, black tank. He would offer to let Shiloh change in the trees, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t take him up on that. She bent over the boat and tugged something out of her pack. When she slid it on, Reece couldn’t help but grin.

  “It's warm,” she grumbled as she slid her hand under her hair and freed it from the hoodie.

  “I know.”

  Shiloh shot him a glance.

  He chuckled.

  She walked to the edge of the shady protection and glanced up. He heard a shuddering sigh as she stood there. His gaze followed hers. Dazzling against a blanket of black, the moon shone brightly, a larger version of the stars dancing around it. He moved closer, knowing that even a few feet could be a lethal distance if someone leapt out of the shadows. Behind her, he allowed his gaze to wander to her.

  Unlike in his dream where her hair billowed, her hair hung dark and wet down her back. Under the wash of moonlight, her face softened and her eyes lightened.

  “How do you always know what I’m going to do?” Her soulful gaze came to his.

  Did she know how beautiful she was? He broke the hypnotic tug of her eyes and strolled around her. “In my business, you learn to read people.” On a nearby boulder, he planted his foot and stared out at the bay.

  Shiloh followed, stepping up onto the rock, which brought her almost even with his height. “I’ve always thought I could judge people pretty well.”

  “You do.”

  She darted him a glance.

  Lowering his leg, he stared out at the diamond-encrusted waters. When she looked at him with that remnant of hope, of wanting him to believe in her, all Reece wanted to do was pull her into his arms and kiss her soundly. Change the topic, genius.

  “Am I predictable?” She did it for him.

  “Everyone is,” Reece acknowledged. “Most people fit into a certain type, so it's easy to peg what they’re thinking or what they’ll do. It works most of the time.” It was why he had faith she’d come back to God.

  She batted her hair from her face, her chin tilted so that she peered down at him. “So, what am I thinking?”

  Reece couldn’t stop his grin. “You’re trying to figure out what you can do that I won’t expect.”

  She grunted and slid off the rock. The lapping water bridged the silence that overtook the conversation. A moment later, Shiloh yanked around and eyed him.

  “Did you figure it out?” He shouldn’t taunt her, but this was too much fun.

  She rolled her eyes and glanced away. Seconds later, she whipped toward him. Something flickered in her expression. Her gaze shifted.

  No, something shifted. The change was so subtle, it almost didn’t register. A nuance. It unsettled him. Familiar, yet foreign.

  With the moon skimming the quiet waters, shadows danced across her face. Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes as she stood, unmoving. What was she thinking? Why couldn’t he read her? A shrill alarm squealed through his mind. What muddled his instincts? Step off , Jaxon.

  Her hands came to his shoulders as she stood on tiptoes and kissed him.

  19

  LOCKED IN THE INTENSITY OF HIS GAZE, SHE STARED AT HIM WITH A THUNdering heart. Her stomach flipped then flopped as she stood, unable to move away. Not wanting to.

  His hands snaked around her waist. A hand slid up her back and cupped her head. Heat fanned across her chest and slithered into her cheeks as his eyes bounced between her lips and eyes. Her breath caught as he lowered his head.

  Lips dusting hers … warm, gentle. He nudged the small of her back, tugging her deeper into his arms. For a second, he eased back. He waited, as if asking permission—or warring with what he felt and what his silly professional rules dictated. He might say they had to keep their distance, but his reaction to her screamed otherwise.

  She wouldn’t lose this moment. Her world suddenly felt bearable. She let her fingers trickle up his shoulders and around his neck. “Reece …”

  He captured her mouth with his.

  As Shiloh melted into his arms, his grip tightened her against him. Bathed in his passion, she sensed the security and peace she’d found only in the depths of the ocean. But a different depth engulfed her now—a magical one sprinkled with happiness.

  Like an ice storm, he broke off . Pushed her away. He hissed a curse, lodging his rejection into her heart. He pivoted with his hands threaded behind his head. He mumbled and paced. Finally, he turned back to her.

  And she saw it. Regret.

  Rage wove through her. When her chin quivered, she clamped her jaw.

  “Shiloh—”

  “No!” she ground out, laboring through each breath. “Don’t you dare!” A hot tear streaked down her face. She slapped it away. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

  Why had she taken the risk? Handed her heart to a covert operative. This is what she got—this is what she’d known she’d get from day one. Her father had brought nothing but rejection and pain. Why in this dark universe did she ever think it’d be different with Reece?

  He slumped onto the boulder and cradled his head in his hands.

  Tears unleashed, she stomped back toward the craft. “Weak, stupid …” Schoolgirl. Isn’t that how he saw her? As a silly schoolgirl with a cr
ush? She spun back to him, ready to unleash her fury. But stopped short when she saw him barreling toward her.

  He took her into his arms.

  “Get off !” With a shove, she broke free.

  “Shiloh, listen—” He caught her, pulling her toward him.

  She writhed against his grip. “No! I won’t … I can’t …” Rage melted into sheer agony. Why had she trusted him? Give your heart to a spy, you only end up betrayed.

  “You’re right. I have no business apologizing.”

  She snapped her head up and glared at him.

  “I can’t apologize because I’m not sorry. But I never wanted to hurt you.” Torment and confusion rushed across his terse brow. He shook his head. “You haven’t even had time to grieve for Khalid. This … thing between us could just be a blowback from his death.”

  “A blowback?” Shiloh stared at him, blinking. “Is that what you … ?” She swallowed and averted her eyes. Her breathing deepened. Crushed. Did he really think she … ? She raked her hair out of her face and shoved back the tears.

  Maybe he was right. A blowback. She dared to meet his gaze. Transference. The unconscious redirection of feelings from one person to another. She took a step back, her legs feeling like jellyfish.

  His gaze dropped.

  Yeah, he thought she’d transferred her feelings from Khalid—now dead—to him. Is that truly what had happened? Her mind's eye swam through the thick emotions that burned when Reece held her, kissed her, reassured her …

  Reece roughed a hand over his jaw and huffed. “I don’t know what to do about this, about you.”

  Sorrow clung to her as the remnants of his powerful kiss still lingered. “Why must you do anything about me? Khalid's gone.” The words caught in her throat. Her eyes burned. Please don’t let Reece be right. She needed what he’d just given her—a taste of happiness. “It's different between us—you and me.”

  She hated the desperation in her own voice, but Reece moved something deep in her, something never touched before. Yet it scared her. Made her wonder what sort of insanity consumed her to get mixed up with a man whose very existence depended on deceit. Why hadn’t she ever felt like this with Khalid? Guilt rubbed her raw.