by Ronie Kendig
“Maybe we should give each other some time.”
She flared her nostrils. “Why? Is this just a game—do you show every woman that kind of passion?”
The nerve she hit exploded across his face. “You know the answer to that.”
Frustration gripped her. Tightened its hold. Strangled her. “Why is this wrong?” Her voice cracked.
Once again, he pulled her into his arms and cradled her. Shiloh slumped against his chest. Strong biceps made the world slip away. All the trials, all the enemies …
Daunting understanding seized her. She knew why it was dangerous for him to get involved with her—his guard fell, his mind succumbed to intoxication. Did she have the same effect on him that he had on her?
Without explaining her revelation, Shiloh sank into the safety of his hold and let the world slip away once more. A shudder rippled through her, coaxing a sigh as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. They stood under the moonlight, quiet and peaceful. Yet Shiloh worried over their future, over the possibility that she unconsciously projected. Once they left, once he was thrust back into his world of espionage, what would happen to them?
“So, what do we do?” She tilted her head back to look up at him.
A small smile. “I like to finish what I start. Since I can’t, no more kisses for a while.” He grinned. “A long while.”
What if they backed off and never found their connection again? “In that case—” She tugged his face down once more. This time, she deepened the kiss.
“Hey!” someone shouted behind them.
Reece jerked, his gaze snapping down the darkened beach.
Shiloh shifted back as she searched for the source of the interruption. There, about fifty yards off , stood Bronco.
“Miller radioed,” he hollered. “They’ve got trouble.”
Running through the sand proved arduous as the gritty grains pushed against her. Still, Reece seemed to fly effortlessly over the terrain back to the boat. Shiloh wasn’t far behind when he barked orders to Bronco. Orders to maintain watch over the boat … and Shiloh.
“I’m not staying here.” She planted a foot and caught his arm.
Reece hooked a fist up and under her hand, breaking her hold. He stepped into a pair of jeans over his now-dry trunks, then donned a shirt, and slung a pack over his shoulder. The familiar shink of the weapon's slide echoed through the night. Intensity flamed into his face, every action strategic and practiced.
“Reece …” She let her voice trail off although she wanted to argue, to demand her rights. But something told her not to, to hold her peace. Hadn’t she said she always trusted him? Then this was the time to prove it. “Come back.”
He met her gaze briefly, gave a gentle nod, and jogged out of view without a word.
For several moments after he left, she stared at the foliage that had swallowed him. She didn’t want to lose him the way she’d lost Khalid. Rubbing her arms, she strode toward the trees. She’d just handed him her heart, and now he had rushed off into a deadly conflict.
“Stay close to the prop.”
At Bronco's warning, Shiloh stopped pacing.
Reece Jaxon had filled a hole long vacant in her life, and only now, with him off fighting the perils of the night, did it strike her how much she feared caring about someone. Isn’t this why she’d hidden her heart, shielded her emotions from everyone about everything? Her father had always read her openly—much like Reece. It was because of her father she’d mastered schooling her facial features and finding ways to answer without answering.
She walked the edge of the shore where the water kissed the still-warm sand. Yes, she’d spent her entire life running from her feelings and her father. Her father would enjoy this, knowing she’d fled his watchful eye only to end up in love with a man just like him. She closed her eyes. How can I be so stupid?
What was she doing falling in love—period? With a spy, no less!
No. She didn’t love Reece Jaxon. They barely knew each other. This was just an infatuation. Maybe she needed to let things cool off . Even he said things between them had to level out.
I like to finish what I start. His words tickled her conscience. Didn’t that hold a promise of a future? Why did her heart race at the thought?
She squeezed her eyes and shook her head. Raking a hand through her hair, she heard Bronco approaching and glanced at him.
He held out a small earpiece. “Thought you’d want to keep an ear on the traffic, considering you and the chief.”
“Considering what about us?”
He looked at her like she’d lost her mind but clamped his mouth tight.
Irritated with her own defensiveness, she took the device and tucked it in. Activity leapt into her ear canal. Confusing lingo ensued, but then she grabbed the edges of the stiff conversation.
“Bravo One, report.” Reece's voice came through strong and commanding.
Captain Miller responded with the information. If she understood the scenario, Miller and Stick had encountered two hostiles outside the hospital and were trapped. Had they found the camera?
Rustling and static rattled her nerves over the next several minutes. Shiloh kept her eyes on the water, focused on the rhythmic lapping in the hopes of staying calm.
“Behind you!” Miller shouted.
A crack and thud.
Shiloh spun toward Bronco. “Shouldn’t … can’t we do something?”
“We wait.”
Shiloh ground her teeth together.
Rapid-fire weapons hammered her ear. Shiloh stopped cold when silence shrieked through the coms. Again she shot a questioning look to Bronco, who shook his head. She listened, hoped to hear something. Anything.
Her heart lurched. What if Reece died?
Reece hoofed it across the narrow stretch of grass between the street and the hospital. They had risked this trip for what? A trap? Irritation rose up his spine but he shoved it aside. He had to provide a distraction for the guys to get out alive. Half bent, he hurried toward the white van parked at the far edge of the lot. Back pressed to the hot metal, he peered around the front fender.
“In position, Bravo one.”
“Copy.”
From the pack, he withdrew the clump of Semtex. He reached up under the vehicle and set the Russian C-4 against the wheel hub. “Package in place. Ready in eight … seven …” He sprinted toward the waist-high wall.
At the first hint of detonation, he dove to the ground.
White lit the night. A thundering concussion slammed through the smoldering air. Heat skimmed the back of his legs and his spine. Once it passed, he waited out the back-draft, then pushed himself from the grass. “Bravo One, gimme a sitrep.”
“Two unfriendlies down. En route to rendezvous.”
With the confirmation that their diversion had worked, Reece kept his eyes alert, mind processing his surroundings. A Maharashtra State Police Jeep sped down the road with its blue, white, and red lights stirring chaos. Pedestrians gawked at the emergency vehicles descending on the private hospital.
With his face hidden from the authorities, Reece blended into the shadows of the tall trees. Crunching footsteps nearby sent him rushing behind the biggest trunk. He leaned against the bark and peered out.
A stream of light probed the dense foliage and swept left and right. More crunching as officers inched between the trees then stopped, apparently afraid to go deeper into the small forest. If they moved in farther, their flashlights would strike his chest. He glanced over his shoulder, spotted a slightly larger tree, and shot toward it.
Shouts erupted.
Bark ruptured, peppering his face and arms. He wove to the left and bent into a crouch.
Hurried and frantic words swirled through the area, choking his hope that he could make it to the boat in time.
“Over here,” one hollered, their Marathi coated with urgency as they drew closer.
Dangerously close. Reece searched for an exit strategy.
Sn
ap! Crunch.
Another five yards and they’d have a clean shot.
His heart skipped a beat. Miller and the others were most likely pushing out into the water. They’d better get Shiloh to safety. The thought of her getting captured weighted his muscles. His mind skidded into the memory of her soft, sweet kisses. God, help me!
“Help!” a woman's voice called.
The officers spun, stared toward the road, and jogged away from him.
“I saw a man,” the woman said, her dialect a bit … off .
Not just a woman. Shiloh! Reece's tension ratcheted. A metallic taste shot through his mouth. He wasn’t going to lose
Shiloh the way he lost Chloe. Caught between racing to safety and ensuring hers, he shifted for a better view.
With a convincing amount of emotion in her voice, Shiloh stood, shouting that someone had stolen her car. She pointed down the road and insisted they stop the man in the red import.
The authorities didn’t seem to buy her story.
“My baby is in there. The man had a backpack and a gun.” Those words sent the two racing away, but only after they ordered her to wait there.
Reece's pulse spiked when Shiloh didn’t rush into the trees. Come on, Shi, come on! He whistled to signal her, momentarily forgetting Shiloh wouldn’t recognize the sound. He fisted his hands as seconds ticked off . If she waited much longer … He took a step forward.
Just then, she burst through the shelter of trees—and barreled right into him. He caught her hand and together, they zigzagged through the pines.
“Bravo one, what's your twenty?”
“Fifty red.”
As they ran, he glanced at Shiloh. Determination etched into her face, she maintained course without hesitation. Ten more feet.
Sand spurted upward. Stinging grains prickled his legs and arms.
Shiloh grunted.
The black waters beckoned.
“Fifty meters southeast, go!”
Fingertips touching, she dove into the water. Reece launched in behind her. He kept pace, knowing if she ate a bullet, she’d drown. Mentally, he prodded her to swim faster. Yet her pace tonight slaughtered her competitive swimming at the camp. The sense of foreboding had never pervaded his senses the way it did with Shiloh. She’d foolishly put herself in danger. She should’ve stayed put.
At the rig, the agitating motor stirred the waters as Stick and Bronco hauled him and Shiloh aboard. She flopped in like a fish, her lungs heaving. Reece slid onto his rear as he worked to steady his breathing, watching her.
Her head rolled to the side as she looked at him. A crooked grin. She licked her lips.
“Not smart,” he said with a ragged breath. “Never compromise yourself or your location.”
Propped on her elbows, she wrinkled her brow. “I saved your life!”
“You compromised your position and put the team at risk.”
“Everyone's fine.” She pushed up as a full scowl took over her delicate features. “The cops were within five feet and would’ve killed you if I hadn’t drawn away their attention.”
“And in doing so, you implicated and endangered yourself.”
“Fine. I’ll leave you to die next time.”
“That's exactly what you should do.” He watched the shock course through her, creating a tumultuous wake like the frothy waters behind the boat. “I’m trained for situations like this. You aren’t. I told you to stay with Bronco.” Reece turned his glare to the burly man at the back of the boat. “I’ll deal with you later.” Special Forces and the guy couldn’t even maintain control over one untrained asset.
“She sprinted—”
“You won’t deal with anyone on my account,” Shiloh shouted over Bronco's objection and the motor. “I’m a grown woman. I assessed the situation and did what I thought was best.”
Why did he feel so enraged? “You were wrong.”
As the wind whipped her wet hair across her face, something burst through her eyes. “Yes, I was wrong.” Jaw jutted, she shoved herself away from him. “About you!”
Her words stabbed him. She’d taken his admonishment personally instead of assimilating it to improve her technique. Letdown shadowed the pride he’d felt earlier. “If you can’t separate your feelings from the action, you won’t go on any more missions.”
“Would you two can it?” Miller glowered from the back. “You’re waking the dead!”
Reece lowered his gaze to the pack between his legs. As the boat sped them back to the waiting trucks, he used the time to steady himself from the energy and mental rush. The thought of her dead at the bottom of Mumbai Harbor …
He’d lost control with her. He roughed a hand over his face, disappointed with himself. But she brought out things in him that nobody else had been able to—fury, passion, anger. He would need to talk to her. Get them back on track.
Back at camp, he grabbed his gear and caught up with her on the trail. “Shi—”
“Get off !” Shiloh drew back like a cat ready to strike. Fire poured out of her moonlit eyes.
“Listen to me.”
“I heard you just fine the first time.” She stomped in the direction of her hut.
Reece started after her, stunned that their relationship had taken a nosedive from the nearly euphoric moment on the beach to the volatile argument on the dark waters. He’d thought better of her, believed Shiloh top-agent material, even secretly toyed with recruiting her despite the indications from Langley that she was off -limits.
Was he wrong? Had he pushed too hard? Involved her in scenarios beyond the scope of her abilities?
Images of a blonde woman swam through his mind. An argument. Angry, hateful words. An explosion. Her death.
He swallowed—hard. He’d crossed that line he swore to respect this time. How could life repeat itself in such a painful way? Maybe the transference theory was right. Would Shiloh ever speak to him again? Would they go their separate ways? His fingers curled into a fist at the thought. He scowled as he stared at the hut sitting beneath the canopy of banyan trees. He didn’t want to lose Shiloh, either to circumstance or to the grave.
“Don’t let it happen,” Miller said, his words barely audible as he sidled up beside him.
Reece glanced at his partner.
Cole Miller stood facing Shiloh's hut, the small fire in the nearby pit lighting his face. He squinted. “Don’t let this thing come between you two.”
“She doesn’t understand my reasons, this life I live, or what it takes.”
“Then make her understand.”
With a soft snort, Reece shook his head. “You of all people know it's impossible to make anyone do something they don’t want to.”
“True.” He still hadn’t moved. “But love can level mountains.”
A snappy comeback lit through Reece's mind, a retort that denied anything existed between himself and Shiloh. Was it better to release what happened on the beach, accept that Shiloh wasn’t meant for him, and just move on? It would be safer. For her. For him. If he did, could he head off another disaster? Maybe that would salvage what was left of his belief that true love could exist and remain a burning flame instead of snuffing out before it had a chance to burn brightly.
“Chloe wasn’t your fault.”
Reece ground his teeth, his gaze skirting the camp and then falling on Shiloh's hut. He flexed and unflexed his hands. “People keep saying that.” Even though this situation wasn’t the same as Mumbai, the similarities taunted him. “I won’t be the cause of someone's death again.”
Miller chuckled. “Sure you will.”
“You know what I mean.”
With a hand on Reece's shoulder, Miller turned. “She's not Chloe, and she's not your prodigy.”
Alone with his thoughts, Reece replayed his friend's words. With so many years of executing covert ops, he’d wondered if he even had a heart anymore. After Chloe's death, he’d walled himself within the confines of espionage, enjoying the anonymity yet finding himself
lost and alone. Following his heart was a lot easier said than done. It meant breaking not only Langley's rules but his own.
But what if his heart broke the rules? He didn’t ask to fall for the enigmatic woman. Yet she called to everything that was Reece Jaxon. Sultry softness lured him into wanting more, a lot more than a Christian man should. But his attraction was to more than her body—she amazed him, made him curious to find out what made her tick, what made her laugh. And since she was Jude Blake's daughter, Shiloh had been exposed to the Christian faith. With her tenacity it was only a matter of time before she examined her anger toward God.
At her hut, he peered through the screen. She bent over her cot and dug through her backpack. He rapped against the wood frame.
“Go away!”
Reece opened the door and stepped in.
Shiloh spun and beaned him with something.
The object had nailed his head. Touching the spot, he stared at her. Shocked. “Ow!”
She rolled her eyes. “You were supposed to catch it.”
“I did.” He rubbed his temple. “With my head.”
She stomped across the slat-board floor and retrieved whatever had hit him. “Here.” Holding it, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “The coin Baseer gave me. It's our next step.”
He gripped her hand, his gaze unmoving from her face. So this was how she wanted to play it—shove aside her feelings and get right back to the game? So much the better. At least this way they wouldn’t have to worry about romantic entanglements.
Tugging free, Shiloh took a step away. “When he gave it to me, he mentioned a name—Gerard Moore, remember?”
“Moreaux,” a voice called from behind. “Gerard Moreaux.”
Both Shiloh and Reece turned toward the door. Miller stood on the wooden steps, his hands stuffed in the back pockets of his tactical pants. “Sorry, I was coming to ask you to keep it down. Couldn’t help overhearing.” He stepped into the hut.
“Who's Moreaux?” Reece asked.
A wicked grin plowed into Miller's face. “French deputy minister of foreign relations. A powerful man in the way of peace negotiations. Heard about a snatch-and-grab based on information he provided to an asset in Paris.”