by Kaylea Cross
The enemy body count piled up both inside and outside the main building. In a matter of minutes, it was all over.
“Main building’s clear,” Rory reported. “Starting ID process.”
Marcus shifted his focus back to Kiyomi. She hadn’t moved, was still standing before the screen showing Rory’s helmet cam, watching intently.
As the faces of the prisoners and casualties began to flood in, analysts ran them through their software. Kiyomi stopped them three times to verify an ID, giving them her insider info about the men she’d flagged.
Ten minutes later, the team was finished searching the camp.
Kiyomi turned to look at him, a frown creasing her forehead as she said what Marcus had already begun to dread. “He’s not there.”
Chapter Nine
Conflicting emotions clashed inside Kiyomi as she stared at Marcus. Anger because Rahman had managed yet again to escape justice. Relief because now she might still have a chance to bring him down personally.
MI6 had been so sure Rahman would be at the camp. Either they’d received bad intel, or he’d been warned in time to escape. She was betting on the latter.
Frowning, the MI6 agent who’d been speaking with Marcus strode forward, scanning the monitor in front of the analyst she had just been working with to identify the enemy prisoners and casualties. “Are you sure?” he asked her.
She shot him a hard look. “Positive.” She removed her headset and tossed it onto the desk beside her. “Someone tipped him off.” She walked straight to Marcus, drawn to him by an invisible force she couldn’t resist. His strength, calm and protectiveness were irresistible.
He stayed at her side as they passed through the inner security doors to the next room, where Rycroft and Trinity were waiting. “He wasn’t there,” Kiyomi told them.
Rycroft gave a nod, spoke briefly to the military official who had granted them all access, then motioned for Kiyomi and the others to follow him out of the room. He waited until they all were down in the underground lot before speaking.
“What do you want to do about Rahman?” he asked, looking between her and Trinity.
“Fly to Damascus as soon as possible,” Kiyomi answered, drawing sharp looks from Marcus and Trinity. So I can nail his ass personally.
Trinity watched her for a moment, then nodded. “You two go ahead and drive back to the manor,” she said to Kiyomi and Marcus. “Alex and I will talk everything over, and I’ll let everyone know what our next step will be as soon as I know.”
Kiyomi wanted to stay and fight for the Damascus option, but she didn’t know Rycroft well and Trinity was team leader. Kiyomi trusted her implicitly. If there was a way to get a green light for an op in Damascus targeting Rahman, Trinity would make it happen.
She turned to Marcus. If she couldn’t stay and fight for what she wanted, then she wanted to leave and selfishly eat up all the time she could get alone with him instead. Because if she went after Rahman, there was a good chance she might not come back from it. “Shall we go?”
With a nod he crossed to where they’d parked their rental vehicle, a new Range Rover with tinted windows. He unlocked it and opened her door for her, earning a smile from her. She loved how old fashioned he was in his manners. And it gave her butterflies just thinking of the way he’d kissed her last night. “Thanks.”
He glanced at her as he started the engine a few moments later. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” Rahman was still free but he wouldn’t be that way forever, and at least this way her plan might still happen.
Outside the building, the London traffic was insane as usual. It took them almost thirty minutes just to get across the Thames via the Vauxhall Bridge Road, and forty more to reach the M40. Not that she was complaining. Being alone with him helped settle her chaotic emotions.
“I’m starving,” she announced when they finally merged onto the motorway. “Can we stop somewhere on the way and grab something to eat?” Yeah, she was using stall tactics, not wanting the few hours they had alone to pass too quickly.
“Aye, I could do with some scran too.” He changed lanes and they finally picked up a bit of speed as the traffic thinned out a little.
Neither of them spoke for the next several minutes. Then he asked, “If you go to Damascus, how will you find him?”
“Amber. She’ll have to come too.”
“And if you find him, then what? You’ll all capture him together?”
“For a start.” Unless they got a break about the Architect before then. The only reason they would need to capture Rahman rather than kill him outright was to extract that intel. If he was no longer needed for that purpose, she could move on to the more satisfying phase of her plan.
“Are you so sure that’s where he’s gone?”
“Sure as I can be. It’s what he usually does, moves around in between visits to his power base in the capital.” She should know, she’d spent weeks studying and following him before entering his circle. He was a disgusting pig disguised in a pretty package.
“How large a team would you take?”
She shrugged. “Five people maybe, I dunno. That’ll be up to Trinity, since she’s team leader.”
“If you go, I’m coming with you.”
She jerked her head around to stare at him, caught off guard. “Why would you do that?”
His jaw flexed, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. “Because I want to be there and help get that bastard.”
Warmth flooded her at the steely edge to his voice. “That’s really kind of you, but—”
He cut her off with a hard look. “I’m well qualified and still capable of holding my own on an op, even with my physical…limitations.”
“I know you are,” she said quietly, sorry she’d wounded his already bruised pride.
Watching his former teammates conduct the op without him tonight must have been hard, and she’d just jabbed the equivalent of a sharp stick in that newly opened wound. “I’d have you on my team any day, because I know how skilled you are, and because I trust that you’d have my back.”
That seemed to appease him because the tension in his shoulders eased. “I would.”
“I know.” But hearing it from him made her heart turn over. As incredible as it seemed, this amazing man who had suffered so much wanted to protect and avenge her. Her. Not some fantasy version of herself that she’d played for so many others throughout her life. Just her, baggage and all.
“What made you want to join the SAS?” she asked, curious.
“The challenge of it. The brotherhood. Being in the thick of the action.”
She understood what that was like. Shitty as the Valkyrie Program had been in some aspects, she had loved the feeling of being a part of something so elite. “Did you love it?”
His expression turned fond, a faraway look in his eyes. “Aye. Most of the time.”
“What part of selection did you find the hardest?”
“Jungle training. Six weeks working in upwards of ninety-degree heat and the same in humidity, being bitten by every insect that came across me in the Brunei jungle. You’re constantly wet, itching and bleeding. Then there are the infections and fever.”
“Sounds lovely,” she said dryly.
He lifted a shoulder. “In those conditions, a man finds out in short order whether he has what it takes or not. But I was either going to pass the training or leave in a body bag.”
That made her smile. In the sorts of training they’d endured, mental toughness was key. More important than skill or physical condition, and often was the deciding factor between success and failure. “And that’s exactly why you made it.”
He smiled back, his eyes shining with admiration. “Aye. And you.”
Sometimes she forgot how much he knew about the Program, from Megan. The temptation to lean across the seat and kiss him was overwhelming. She didn’t want him to be in danger again, especially not because of her.
Last night had made her wan
t him even more. He’d kissed her with so much tenderness and care, all the restrained heat she could sense in him tightly leashed, maybe because he’d been worried about scaring her if he let it out. He’d even stopped things when she’d been trying to push him for more. Refusing to rush her or let her rush him.
That had never happened to her before. Every other man she’d been with had wanted to get her into bed as fast as possible. None of them had ever elicited any emotion or sensations in her.
Only Marcus. He made her feel beautiful instead of damaged or broken. Strong instead of weak. Safe. Cherished, even. Around him all she felt was a sense of anticipation and yearning…and arousal for the first time in a man’s presence.
She glanced at his hands, wrapped around the steering wheel as he drove them through slower moving traffic. Strong, clean, long-fingered. A shiver of excitement passed through her as she imagined them moving over her bare skin.
“There’s a pub about thirty miles from here that does good pies,” he said, tearing her from her wayward thoughts. “That okay?”
“Sounds great.” She enjoyed the comfortable quiet between them for the remainder of the drive. The inn was an old, two-story beam and plaster building from the 1700s just off the motorway.
Marcus got them a cozy table for two by the fire. The ceiling was held up by dark, hand-hewn timbers and the interior walls were bare stone. Bathed in warm firelight, they each ate a chicken and mushroom pie and washed it down with a glass of dark beer. He even talked her into sticky toffee pudding for dessert.
“I can’t believe you’ve never had it,” he said as he finished off his beer.
“I never ate dessert until I met you,” she answered, scooping up another mouthful. It was warm and sweet and gooey, and the cold vanilla ice cream made it extra heavenly. “Had to maintain a certain weight and size all the time.” She flashed him a smug smile. “But not anymore.”
He chuckled, a low rumble that warmed her as much as the fire at her back. “I’ll be sure to feed you pudding every night, then.”
She adored his voice, accent, and the quintessentially British terms he used. “Please do.” He was such a beautiful man, inside and out. She’d never known it was possible to want someone like this.
Was this how it was for everyone else, people who chose partners of their own free will? Her body felt alive, almost effervescent with tingles as her mind conjured up all kinds of erotic images of them naked together.
He refused to let her pay for her part of the meal. He settled a guiding hand on the small of her back as they left, and that simple touch had her insides humming. Because unlike other men, his touch wasn’t proprietary or controlling. Rather it was supportive, protective and comforting.
It also taught her something new about herself. That she was capable of getting turned on by a nonsexual touch from the right man.
At their vehicle he once again opened her door for her. She was about to reach for him but he shut the door and rounded the hood to get behind the wheel.
Her insides heated at being alone with him in the enclosed, suddenly intimate space, a delicious throb pulsing between her thighs. His woodsy, masculine scent filled her nose, and all she could think about was kissing that sexy mouth.
As if reading her mind, he turned his head to look at her in the dimness of the streetlight on the corner. She could read the desire in his eyes, was ready to scramble over the console and into his lap to kiss the hell out of him when he finally set one big hand on the side of her face and leaned forward to settle his mouth over hers.
Her lower belly flipped, tiny tingles racing across her lips and spreading down her neck and limbs. She reached up to grab his shoulder, squeezing slightly, testing the strength there as his muscles flexed beneath her fingers.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered to her, bringing his other hand up to cradle the back of her head.
She’d heard that a million times before. The difference this time was, she felt beautiful. Marcus made her feel beautiful and desirable and free all at the same time. She was dizzy with it, her heart racing at the thought of what else he might make her feel.
He deepened the kiss, bringing her closer with those powerful hands, one on her back while he grazed his fingers down the side of her neck.
Her breath hitched and for just a moment she allowed herself to close her eyes and let go of the constant need to be vigilant, to shut off all sensation in her body and stay mentally alert at all times.
She kissed him back harder, showing him without words how much she wanted him. The need to be in control was still there, scraping against the edges of her consciousness even as she struggled to shut it off.
Marcus shifted the hand on her back to her ribs, coasted it up and down, the heel of his hand grazing the side of her breast. Her nipple beaded tight, aching for attention. She shifted and leaned into his touch, pressing her breast into his hand. He made a low sound and cupped the side of her breast, his thumb stroking gently, moving ever closer to the straining center.
When he finally touched her there she couldn’t hold back the tremulous moan that escaped as he sucked on her lower lip. The sound startled her, brought an instant rush of reproach and shame that shattered the spell she’d been under like a bullet through a pane of glass.
She pulled back, her body at war with her mind. Marcus held her gaze, unmoving, his face only inches away but his hands now on his thighs. “Too fast?” he murmured.
She shook her head, cringing inside. “No. No, it’s…” Jesus, she felt like an idiot. It was like a breaker had suddenly been tripped in her head. Instinctive and pure reflex, something she had no control over.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said, leaning back to straighten in his seat.
Her body and heart cried out at the increased distance between them. She grabbed his closest hand and curled her fingers around it, trying to think of a way to explain it so he would understand. It was important that he understand. “I’ve never been allowed to…”
“To what?” he said quietly after a moment.
“Feel. With anyone,” she added, her face heating at the admission.
This was so embarrassing. She’d ruined the moment. Killed it stone dead. Now she felt exposed, more vulnerable than if she’d been sitting here naked.
“You make me feel,” she explained. “And part of my mind still doesn’t want to let me, because it’s not safe.”
He watched her for a long moment, then exhaled and reached for her. Without a word he pulled her into a tight hug, one hand curved around the back of her head, holding her face to his shoulder. “I would never hurt you or push you for anything you weren’t ready to give.”
She nodded, breathing in his scent and savoring the strength and security of his embrace. It wasn’t just her mind that was in danger with him, but her heart as well. “I know.” Until Marcus, she hadn’t believed men like this existed. Sometimes she still caught her mind telling her he couldn’t be real.
“Good.” He kissed her hair, released her and started the engine.
Frustration burned in her gut as he got them back on the road and headed for Stow. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just ruined her only chance at something beautiful with him.
Her cell phone rang a few minutes later, a welcome reprieve from her dismal thoughts. “Hey, Trin. What’s up?”
“Damascus is a go.”
A burst of elation hit her. Marcus glanced over and she gave him a thumbs up to alert him what was going on. “When?”
“Tomorrow. We’ll work out the details later tonight once I get back to the manor. So, this is your baby. Who do you want with you?”
“You.” Because she was closest to Trin and wanted her experience on this one. “Amber and Jesse.” For logistics, and because they’d both recently been in Damascus. “Megan and Ty. Maybe one more.” For recon, backup and in case they had to steal anything. “And Marcus.”
A surprised pause filled the line. “Marcus?�
��
He glanced over again as she awaited Trinity’s reply. “Yes.” She wanted him with her when she went back to face her demons in Damascus.
He was the only person who could help keep her demons at bay.
Chapter Ten
Marcus stood in the shower of his en suite letting the hot water pound down on his head and shoulders, his mind a chaotic mess. They’d finished the meeting with the entire team ten minutes ago, outlining what would happen tomorrow, and the purpose of the mission.
Capture Fayez Rahman, and pump him for intel on the Architect. Then, while he was in captivity, Rahman would meet a mysterious demise, the details of which only a handful of them would be privy to—not including Marcus.
He’d never been so conflicted about a decision before. Returning to Syria weighed heavy on his mind, even though he’d volunteered to be part of the team. He was going because he needed to be there to ensure Kiyomi was safe. But now that the flight to Damascus loomed on the coming horizon, his demons were out in full force.
Didn’t matter. He’d face his demons and any other threat put in front of him to protect Kiyomi.
It was just after midnight. Everyone was headed for bed, and he’d retreated up here to his room because he didn’t trust himself to be alone with Kiyomi right now. The more time he spent with her, the harder it was to keep his hands off her. And her admission outside that pub earlier tonight had rocked him hard.
It was unfathomable that someone so beautiful and full of life had been condemned to an existence of such harsh deprivation. From things as simple as friendship, food, and pleasure.
As usual, thinking of her and pleasure in the same sentence had predictable results on his body. He opened his eyes, glanced down at the erection standing straight up against his belly, and lower to the melted, twisted flesh of his left hip and thigh.