Fight Fire With Fire.

by Amy J. Fetzer

  “You destroyed the perfect world. Mine.”

  She struck him in the throat, the claws slicing into his skin. Barasa choked for air, felt his blood spill warm and wet as she ripped her hand away and held up her prize. His Adam’s apple.

  She uncoiled, tossed it aside, then went to the child. She knelt, brushing bloody hair off her face, straightening the child’s clothes. Then she scooped her in her arms, tears falling as she looked to the black sky. Jets streaked overhead. His last vision was Odette slipping into the jungle, her dead cargo cradled in her arms—and the bombs quickly falling to earth.

  Riley swam, coming up for air, then diving again as the jet shot overhead. The maverick dropped on target, the center of the island. The sky lit up like Christmas, the RZ10 pushing out. The percussion splashed across the surface, the suction of the vacuum pulling the water up like a wall, then shoving in a giant wave.

  Not again, Riley thought and let himself flow with it, knowing he couldn’t fight the tsunami. He gulped air, and looked for Safia, felt her beside him. He could see the dark shape of the rigid inflatable boat and headed for it. The effort drained his strength and he rose to the surface, swiping his face, looking for Safia and his team. Heads bobbed. The wave of the blast pushed them further out to sea with the speed of a roller coaster ride. White water coiled and tossed, the sea ink black and pushing them further apart. He shouted, turning in the water. Where was she? He saw the teams locked in a ring, floating tethered, but no Safia.

  Don’t do this to me, Lord, not now. The wave crested and he spun in the water, rain pelting his face. He saw a hand and dove for it. He swam toward the darkened shadow twisting in the water. He grasped her shoulder, working to her arm and swam to the surface. She choked and struggled to keep her head above water.

  “Body armor!” She sank below.

  Riley dove down, Safia falling fast and struggling to peel the skin-suit off her shoulders. He reached, drawing his knife and hooking it in the neck, but the Kevlar wouldn’t cut. Panicked, she fought the suit, the pressure telling him they were falling too deep, too fast. Lightning flashed above and Riley realized she wasn’t fighting it anymore. Frantically, he yanked at the suit, and once her arms were free, its weight slid it off. He held her and swam to the surface, the last few feet without air. He broke, sucking in a lungful as the jets screamed overhead.

  Safia was limp, and Riley swam one armed toward the RIB, the lights flashing on the water. A rope slapped the water and he grasped it, wrapping his fist and men drew him in. The sea rocked violently, the jets closing in. Someone grasped his shoulders to pull him in.

  “No, her first, CPR CPR!”

  The SEALS hauled her over the side, one going to work as Riley pulled himself into the rubber boat. He scrambled, pushed the SEAL away, doing it himself, breathing for her, forcing her heart to beat again.

  “Come on baby, don’t leave me now,” he said, counting presses, then breaths.

  The boat brushed the sub. “Sir! We have to get onboard, now sir.”

  “Not without her.”

  “Sir, we have to dive—”

  He grabbed the Seal by the throat. “Not without her!” The man nodded, pried his hand from his neck, then helped him carry her body to the ladder, men working hand over hand in a storm. Riley felt himself dying inside, mentally ticking off a full minute since she’d moved last. She’s not dead, he chanted. She’s not.

  Hand over hand, crewmen and his teammates helped them down the forecastle into the bridge hatch, water spilling and draining through the grate floor. The hatch sealed, the deep dive warning ringing inside the submarine, but Riley bent over Safia, performing CPR again. Max and Sam stood with the teams, passing towels over their faces. Footsteps shook the metal floor as a doctor and medics rushed the narrow passageway. Riley kept up the routine.

  “Riley,” Max said. “She’s gone.”

  “No, she is not. She’s cast iron. She’s tougher than we are, for God’s sake.”

  Bridget put her hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off, never taking his gaze off Safia as the doctor charged fibrilla-tor paddles. He warned him, then hit her, the charge arching her torso off the deck.

  Riley checked for a pulse. “Nothing, again.”

  “Sir, she’s gone.”

  Riley grabbed the paddles, hit the switch, and held his breath till the charge light blinked. He shot her again. She bent to the charge, and he felt her throat, waited a breath, the longest heartbeat of his life. “Pulse!”

  She made a sound. It grew louder and he choked with her, pushed her on her side. Water spilled and he heard her hard intake of air. Then another. The doctor was there, hovering, calling to her to open her eyes. Her head lolled and Riley gathered her, propping her up as she coughed and struggled for fresh air. The doctor injected her. Riley caught her face.

  “Safia? Look at me, baby.” She didn’t, breathing. “Safia?”

  “Ow.” She opened her eyes, let out a long, slow breath. “Well, that was wild, huh?”

  Riley laughed, holding her tight and over her head, looked at his friends. Bridget swiped her tears, hugged Max and Sam. Riley looked at Safia, and she touched his face, smoothed her fingertips over his lips. She swallowed and the tears came, and she let them flow, choking, laughing, then dragged her arms around his neck.

  “No more,” she said in his ear. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” He didn’t ask what changed her mind, he sort of knew. Three hundred feet above them, fighter jets obliterated the island. And with it, went her past.

  He leaned back, caught a towel and wiped her tears. “You promised not to scare me like that.”

  “Then talk to R&D about that body armor. It doesn’t float.”

  The teams laughed, shaking a shoulder, a pat on the back and over her head, he met his sister’s gaze. Bridget sobbed to herself, patting her chest the way she did, and Riley knew in his arms was his reason for living.

  “Make a hole!” The teams parted and General Gerardo pushed between, smiling down at them. “Well done, Agent Troy, Donovan.” He acknowledged the teams, shaking hands. “Well done.”

  “Thanks for the lift, sir.”

  “Jansen thought it might make up for not giving you one in Serbia.”

  Riley looked down at Safia, her amused smile making him grin. “All squared away, sir, believe me. No chit to call in.”

  “I’ll be certain to let him know.”

  4 days later

  CIA station, Thailand

  Safia pushed through the doors of the graphics company, a front for the station. This one worked more area than hers, at least a dozen officers in the field from this shop alone. A few were sitting behind desks working satellite transmission like Ellie.

  A young man came around his desk to block her path.

  Safia flipped out her ID badge and looked the man over, then inclined her head behind her. Armed security entered and the look on the young man’s face was priceless. Paler and oh my God scared. He stepped aside and she continued.

  She’d waited for this moment for a long time. Long before the mission, she thought. She remembered with clarity, the pain, the desperation. Yet the instant she’d seen Adam’s face she knew for certain, no one had her back. It held sway over her, pressed into the way she worked, and how she related to people, she thought with a glance at Riley. She slipped her hand into his and laced fingers till they reached the door. He pushed it open. She strode past the next layer of assistants and analysts to the room in the far corner with two glass walls.

  Adam was already on his feet, putting a file into a briefcase. Riley remained outside the door, looking very Secret Service. Safia stopped in front of the desk. He’d been in Lania Price’s back pocket from the start. She’d trained him to release information to lure the bad and ugly. She’d traced the thermobaric fuel back to him. This guy didn’t know squat about fighting fire with fire. There were rules, and then there were rules.

  “Happy?” he practic
ally snarled.

  “Deliriously.”

  “You killed a good contact. How do you think we captured half these fanatics? Inside Intel tips we could never get.”

  “Yes we could. You took the easy route with a hired gun, a killer.”

  “What do you call yourself then?”

  She inhaled, her shoulders throwing back. “An American. You, on the other hand, are a traitor.” She glanced at Riley, and said, “My love, would you be so kind?” She looked at Adam. “I want to watch.”

  Riley chuckled to himself as he walked behind Adam Kin-cade, gathered his wrists, and closed the handcuffs.

  “This isn’t necessary.” Adam made a face at her. “I deserve the respect of my position. I’ve been doing this longer than you, Troy.”

  “Well then.” She folded her arms and cocked her hip. “Now we know you’ve been doing it all wrong.” The last she gritted through clenched teeth.

  Riley led him around the desk, and Kincade stopped, met her gaze. “It wasn’t all bad.”

  She scoffed, itching to slap him stupid. “You set a bomb for me. I have video.” She loved the gray color of his skin just then. “Why did you do it? Money, a chess game, why?” He was trusted, and even Alexa Gavlin swore by his loyalty.

  His expression hardened. “I take orders too, Safia.”

  Her eyes flared. “Then you won’t be alone in your prison cell.”

  “It’s bigger than you think,” he muttered and she frowned.

  Riley led him around to the expressionless and rather large Department of Justice authorities waiting to question him on U.S. soil. They even had a jet gassed to take him home. She hoped it was a stripped down Flying Tiger with jump seats.

  When Kincade was out of her sight, she inhaled and let it out, a smile breaking across her face. “This is a good day.”

  Riley moved near. “Are we done yet?”

  She smiled. He sounded like a kid after a long trip. “I hope not. You have some promises to keep.”

  “Then let’s go home.”

  South Belfast, Ireland

  Riley took a sip of Guinness and watched Safia with his sisters. They crowded around her, asking about her travels and never once about her job. She’d saved Bridget’s life and they were all especially grateful. Riley liked being the one to show it and planned on long hours for the next few decades.

  Only Sebastian was missing, in New Orleans with Jasmine, proving to the rest of his family he wasn’t dead. On the slope of the lawn, Sam and Viva were stretched out on a blanket. Sam smoothed a hand over her barely rounded tummy. It was the calmest Riley had seen him since he got the news. Viva waved at him, rolling her eyes at Sam, then grinned. He waved, but his gaze automatically slid back to Safia. She looked great in yellow.

  “For a man who’s never wanted for female attention, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a sappy grin, Donovan.”

  Riley looked at Killian, then down at the sleeping infant tucked to his chest. “Look who’s talking, lad. Sappy’s your middle name. She’s beautiful. Alexa’s looks, thank God.”

  Killian didn’t take insult and watched his child wrap her tiny fingers around his index finger, then looked to his wife flipping a Frisbee with Max and Riley’s nephews. If he could, he grinned wider.

  “She’s a remarkable woman,” Killian said softly and Riley knew he meant Safia. “I’m really glad Alexa has someone who relates to her past. She won’t join Dragon One now, and frankly never got the itch to go back.” He shook his head. “I’m glad. Maybe we’ll both sleep better.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be getting any shut eye for a while,” Riley said, glancing at the infant wrapped in fuzzy pink blankets. When she fussed and Killian reached for a diaper bag, Riley could barely contain himself. “I wish your troops could see you now.”

  With a black look, Killian shooed him. “You’ll get yours.”

  He wiggled his brows. “I already have it.”

  His attention went to Safia, her face upturned as she listened to his mother. Something tightened hard in his chest. He loved her beyond any feeling he could have imagined, and knew he didn’t want to live without her. The women in his past paled to who Safia was inside, in her soul. She was the good fight, the woman worth knowing. True to herself, she’d joined Dragon One and agreed to become operation commander, a seat Killian once held. He was taking a break to be a father.

  When his sisters grew animated, he decided it was time to rescue her from the stories of his misspent youth. She was getting it in detail by now. The one thing he wanted to spare the woman he loved was a complete list of his faults.

  Safia tried to listen but as he neared, her attention strayed. She supposed it would be rude to run off somewhere private with him. But that’s all she wanted. No work, just time to love him. The easiest thing in the world, she thought as he neared and gave her that crooked smile, one just for her. It made her heartbeat skip, her blood move faster.

  He winked at her as he leaned and kissed his mother’s cheek, then said, “You’ll have years to lambaste my exploits.”

  “Ah! We’re getting to know Safia better so we can have fun at your expense,” his sister Colleen said, her four-year-old son wiggling on her lap.

  “Sorry Colleen, that won’t be happening,” Safia said as she stood.

  Riley grinned, pulled her close. “Finally, someone in my corner.”

  His sisters made a racket over that, but Safia said, “I’ve got your back on this one.”

  “Ahh my very own champion. Just what I always wanted,” he said, steering her away, and over his shoulder made a goofy face at his sisters.

  She nudged him. “Stop. You’re such a tease.” She walked with him down the slope of the yard.

  “Overwhelmed?” He slid his arm around her waist, and she leaned into him, loving the comfort and the way she fit so nicely in the crook of his shoulder. “They’re spectacular. And I know why you turned out so terrific.”

  “Yes, hen-pecked and coddled since I was born.”

  “Oh for pity sake.” She laughed softly, and suddenly Riley darted to the side, behind a Guelder rosebush pulling her close. She clamped her arms around him. “I love you, Riley Donovan.”

  “God, I can’t breathe when you say that.”

  He swept his hand over her jaw, sank his fingers into her hair and Safia purred, closing her eyes. She just wanted to soak this up, replenish this wonderful feeling he gave her. Every minute with him was a minute she never had with anyone else. Yeah, she thought, Riley was in her soul. “Can I claim jet lag?” She opened her eyes. “I love this island, by the way.”

  “If you think you’re getting off it any time soon . . .”

  “Trap me.” She held her wrist out. “Please.”

  “Ahh, you’ll miss it soon enough.”

  “Ha. The last month was more action than I’ve seen in years. Snoop and listen girl.” She pointed to herself. “Besides, I get to be the boss of you now.”

  His smile was slow. “Maary Mother.”

  “Be sure to wear your smart trousers.”

  He laughed, a rich warm sound and Safia knew beyond her heart and in her soul, this was where she belonged, surrounded by new friends and family—and ending each day where she felt truly loved. Right here, in Riley’s arms.

  Yup, she thought. Shoulda jumped on that chopper.

  And be sure to catch Lucy Monroe’s new book,

  WATCH OVER ME,

  coming next month from Brava . . .

  “Dr. Ericson.”

  Lana adjusted the angle on the microscope. Yes. Right there. Perfect. “Amazing.”

  “Lana.”

  She reached out blindly for the stylus to her handheld. Got it. She started taking notes on the screen without looking away from the microscope.

  “Dr. Ericson!!!”

  Lana jumped, bumping her cheekbone on the microscope’s eyepiece before falling backward, hitting a wall that hadn’t been there when she’d come into work that
morning.

  Strong hands set her firmly on her feet as she realized the wall was warm and made of flesh and muscle. Lots and lots of muscle.

  Stumbling back a step, she looked up and then up some more. The dark-haired hottie in front of her was as tall as her colleague, Beau Ruston. Or close to it anyway. She fumbled with her glasses, sliding them on her nose. They didn’t help. Reading glasses for the computer, they only served to make her feel more disoriented.

  She squinted, then remembered and pulled the glasses off again, letting them dangle by their chain around her neck. “Um, hello? Did I know you were visiting my lab?”

  She was fairly certain she hadn’t. She forgot appointments sometimes. Okay, often, but she always remembered eventually. And this man hadn’t made an appointment with her. She was sure of it. He didn’t look like a scientist either.

  Not that all scientists were as unremarkable as she was in the looks department, but this man was another species entirely.

  He looked dangerous and sexy. Enough so that he would definitely replace chemical formulas in her dreams at night. His black hair was a little too long and looked like he’d run his fingers through it, not a comb. That was just so bad boy. She had a secret weakness for bad boys.

  Even bigger than the secret weakness she’d harbored for Beau Ruston before he’d met Elle.

  She had posters of James Dean and Matt Dillon on the wall of her bedroom and had seen Rebel Without a Cause a whopping thirty-six times.

  Unlike James Dean, this yummy bad boy even had pierced ears. Only instead of sedate studs or small hoops, he had tiny black plugs. Only a bit bigger than a pairs of studs, the plugs were recessed in his lobes. They had the Chinese Kanji for strength etched on them in silver. Or pewter maybe. It wasn’t shiny.