“No. And I don’t think Turner did either.”
“Then I really don’t understand. Why—”
“Because he wanted out. Out as in out of the Army. Out as in, ‘Captain Bishop, I’ve never asked you for anything, but I’m asking you now. Man to man. Tear up my paperwork.’”
“Oh my God, he asked her to marry him.”
Rick shook his head slowly, regretfully. “But he was going to.” He sighed. “Turner had sixteen years in. His enlistment extension was set to expire the moment our C-130 touched down in the States. Two months ago, he was good to go for four more years—just enough to take him to retirement. But he also wanted to retake the oath in the jungle.” He shrugged. “It happens in SF. Even did it myself when I was enlisted. So I swore him in and bagged the paperwork. Told him I’d turn it in to Admin when we got back to Fort Campbell. Then he comes to me, two weeks before the crash, and—” His voice caught.
She waited.
When he swallowed, she knew he needed her to finish it. “And he asked you to tear it up. I bet he’d already cleared it with the soldier who witnessed his oath, too. Turner told you no one would ever know. A favor for a man who’d saved your ass in the line of fire once. Or maybe twice.”
He bowed his head. “Yeah.”
There was a bank vault’s worth of guilt in that one word. And he was clinging to every penny.
“Don’t own it. It’s not yours.”
His head shot up. He knew exactly what she meant and he was pissed. But not with her. “Then you tell me, whose is it? Carrie’s? You told me yourself she would have said yes. I sat on that paperwork for two goddamned weeks after Turner came to me. If I hadn’t, he’d have asked her to marry him well before that crash. She’d have told him about the baby. You’re right about Turner saving my ass. I knew the man well. If he’d known Carrie was pregnant, he never would have let her fly.”
“Rick, it wasn’t his choice.”
“Well it wasn’t mine either, was it? Militarily, maybe. But as a man? We argued the night before the crash, you know. Turner accused me of screwing with his life because I was too bloody chicken to go out and find one of my own.”
The bitterness in his laugh ripped into her.
“He had no idea how right he was. The worst of it is, Turner didn’t even need to be on that chopper. I’d been doing the briefings alone for weeks. But I ordered him along. I’d planned to sandbag him with names, dates, an entire list of officers Carrie had slept with. I told myself if he could survive a no-holds-barred discussion of the woman’s reputation and he still wanted to marry her, fine. He could have the damned paperwork. I’d take the heat and deny administering the oath myself.” He raked his fingers through his hair, then dug them into his shoulder as he sighed. “Christ, I wish I’d given him the papers the first time he asked.”
It tore her up to see him wracked with so much pain, tortured by so much doubt. Especially when it wasn’t valid, no matter how much his heart and his conscience might be telling him it was. She knew that better than he could.
Just as she knew Carrie better than he ever would.
“Rick, the fact is, you didn’t give them back. And I can honestly say, I wouldn’t have either. Not then, not given his extenuating circumstances—and trust me, Carrie and I have been best friends for years. I have no illusions as to just how many extenuating circumstances she had stuffed in her closet and in her bed. If our positions had been reversed, I would have done my damnedest to convince Turner to stay in the Army. That’s a commander’s job and we both know it. We look out for the needs of our soldiers, yes. But we also have a duty to our country to look out for the needs of her Army.”
His hand fell down to his lap.
She hadn’t convinced him…because it shook.
She watched him link his fingers together and clamp down tight enough to make the shaking stop. The blood in his fingers bled off so far the white of his knuckles blended in with his robe. She knew he didn’t want her touching him, but she couldn’t take it any longer. She couldn’t take his torment any longer. She leaned forward and reached out.
He flinched.
Her heart shattered.
“Rick?”
He finally faced her full on. She sucked in her breath as the light from the bathroom reflected off his cheeks.
Off his tears.
“Eve, make no mistake, I want it. I want you. More than you’ll ever know. But I can’t. Ever. Can you understand that?”
“No. I can’t give up on you. Don’t ask me to. I won’t.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Yes, she did.
“Rick, I love you.”
He nodded slowly. “I know. But don’t you see? I have no right to this. To you. I denied Bill Turner the very thing I now crave. But it’s not mine. You are not mine. It can’t be.”
He was so wrong.
But he wasn’t ready to see it. And he certainly wasn’t ready to hear it. He might never be.
So she did the only thing she could.
She reached out once more and pushed the covers away from her body, then she wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened. It didn’t matter. She drew him down onto the bed anyway, onto her chest, and cradled him close.
It took a while.
But gradually, his breathing slowed. Deepened.
He fell asleep.
And this time, she held him.
Chapter 13
H e woke on the first tap.
The door.
Rick extricated himself as quickly and as smoothly as he could from Eve’s arms. He pressed his lips to her forehead, soothing the furrow between her brows as well as her sleepy protest and stood. By the second tap, he’d tightened the belt to his robe and crept halfway across the room, stopping only to retrieve his 9 mm from his holster and chamber a round. He rested the pistol against the wall and cracked the door open on the third knock.
Ernesto’s weary mustache greeted.
“I believe you.”
Rick nodded and pulled the door wider. “I’m sorry.”
His buddy shrugged.
“What do you plan to do about it?”
“Strangle the bastardo with my bare hands. But first, I will need to uncover who he is. We shall begin where you two have left off. Can you be ready to return to Córdoba by dawn?”
“Yes.”
What time was it?
Rick glanced at his watch. It was missing. He’d left it in the bathroom. He turned toward the bed, skimming past Eve’s slumbering body and tousled curls as he searched the night stand for a clock. Two hours before dawn.
Two hours before he had to leave Eve.
“Naturally, I shall require the piloting services of your lady as well.”
Rick scowled—and not because of the request.
“I’ll ask her.”
“She says yes.”
Rick stiffened as Eve’s voice floated across the dimly lit room. So much for not rousing her. Fortunately, Ernesto was too good a friend to stare past the arm Rick had hooked to the door.
“Gracias.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Is that all?”
Ernesto held up a folded square of paper. “A gift.”
Rick took the square and slipped it into the pocket of his robe. “By the way, sorry about the bathroom door. Let’s just say, I had trouble holding my milk.” With that, he closed the bedroom door in his buddy’s face.
Eve was sitting up when he returned to the bed.
“What was that all about?”
“Ernesto wants to examine the wreckage for himself.”
She shook her head.
Damn.
“The milk?”
She shook her head again—and stared at his pocket.
Double damn.
Must be that blasted pilot’s vision. He retrieved the square of paper from his robe and opened it, tipping the sheet toward the sliver of light shining in from the bathroom as he scanned Ernesto’s scra
wl.
Bloody hell.
He placed the sheet in her outstretched hand.
She glanced down and then up. “Nice try. Perhaps you’d care to translate?”
It wouldn’t be his first choice, no.
He sighed. “I asked Ernesto to run a check on a name.”
“A name? Why would you try to hide—” She stiffened. “Anna?”
He nodded. “Lieutenant Anna Shale, U.S. Navy. Except, she’s not in the Navy. Not anymore. Several months ago, her commission was terminated. Reason—suspicion of treason. The charges were dropped, but it’s common knowledge in Naval Intelligence circles that she was guilty as hell.”
“I don’t believe it. Ernesto is wrong. His information is wrong. Maybe he had the wrong name, the wrong contacts—”
“Ernesto was an exchange cadet at West Point. He has the right contacts. Some of the same contacts I would have used. He also had the right name. I wrote it down myself.” Only now, he wished to God he hadn’t. He crumpled up the sheet of paper and shoved it into his pocket, then lowered himself onto the side of the bed to try and draw her close.
She refused to budge.
“Eve—”
“Dammit, no! You’re wrong. You’re both wrong. Anna is innocent. I know her. She would never have sold out. Never.”
“Then why has she been targeted by Delta Force?”
“What?”
Rick nodded. “I saw the operative. Hell, I know the operative. He was in the restaurant. On the job. Surely you noticed she was on edge?”
She had.
He could see it in her eyes. He could feel it in the tremor that swept through her body. He slipped his arms around her again and pulled her close. This time, she didn’t resist. He pulled her closer and brushed his lips against her temple. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.”
“H-how? C-Carrie is dead. Anna’s branded a t-traitor. My wings are stripped. Wh-what’s happening to us? To the S-Sisters?” His heart constricted as another tremor struck, and then another. She was shaking, freezing.
Shock.
She’d had too damned many of them lately. But this one was directly due to him. Why the hell couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut? He rubbed his hands up and down her back, but it didn’t help. He pulled Eve down into the bed with him and tugged the covers up over her shoulders.
She was still shaking.
Body heat.
He tugged his robe open, then hers, and pressed the length of her body to his. It took a good minute, but the tremors gradually ebbed until they finally stopped altogether. Still, he held her, stroked her hair, continued to murmur reassurances in her ear.
It was a mistake.
She stirred and the tremors began again.
In him.
He tried to halt them. But he was powerless against this much sensation from this woman full on. He could feel every one of her curves pressing into him, molding to his naked flesh. Every single, bare, intimate inch of him. Her soft breasts spilled onto his chest. Her smooth thighs nestled snugly into his. Her arms slid over the muscles of his chest as she reached up to guide her hands to his face.
He closed his eyes as she trailed her fingers across his whiskered cheeks, but it only made it worse.
Without sight, the rest of his senses took over.
He could hear her breathing quicken. Smell her natural fragrance mingling with the bubbles that had clung to her flesh earlier. He could feel her nipples as they tightened and pressed into his skin. He could feel the soft silk of her golden curls on her head…and lower. She lifted her face and a moment later, he could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips. He recognized the hint of mint from the toothpaste in the bathroom, because he’d used it too.
And then he could taste it.
He could taste her.
But before he could capture her mouth and return her brief searing kiss, she slipped away, staring deep into his eyes as her sultry whisper filled his ears, filled him. “Take me over the edge, Rick, please. Make me forget. Carrie, Anna, the crash, the sabotage, everything. Everything but you.”
It was the last word that did it.
He shuddered.
Then groaned as her tongue slipped between his lips again, incinerating the last of his resolve and the very air from his lungs along with it. He barely had time to fill them again before her hands slid to his chest, tugging the robe from his shoulders and peeling it off his body.
Yes. He wanted this.
He wanted Eve.
He captured her mouth and delved deeply, drawing on her love and on her courage. Showing her with his lips and his tongue what he could never say with his heart. He didn’t yet know how he would manage the coming years without her, but he did know he would never be able to face them without the memory of tonight. She seemed to understand, to forgive him, even as he sealed the length of her body to his, turning them in one smooth motion until she was tucked firmly beneath him.
He groaned as she arched into him, exposing the slender column of her neck for his kiss. He claimed it, claimed her, razing his mouth down her throat, his breath coming hoarse and ragged as he consumed every inch of exposed flesh he could find. He finally reached the throbbing pulse at the base. Still, he wasn’t satisfied.
Nor was he anywhere near sated.
He peeled her robe down her shoulders and used the sleeves to trap her arms behind her back with one hand while he caressed and fondled her mesmerizing breasts with the other. He palmed each in turn, taking his sweet time as he rolled the plump nipples between his fingers, plucking at them over and over until she gasped. He waited until he could stand the anticipation no longer before he finally bent low and replaced his hands with his mouth and tongue.
He groaned.
And she gasped.
“Rick, please. I want—I need to touch you.”
He raised his head and captured her smoky stare, reveling in her driving, frantic need. “Soon, sweetheart. Soon.”
For now, he was too close to the edge.
If they had protection, he would have caved into her pleading in a heartbeat. A condom would have dulled the sensation enough to help him hang on.
But they didn’t have one.
So she couldn’t.
He groaned as she found a way to thwart him, bucking up against him to rub her thighs against his erection, luring him dangerously closer to the edge.
It was time.
Time to give her something that would occupy her body and her mind and give her the release she sought without damning him to hell in the process. He smoothed his hand up those warm silky thighs. She wanted to forget?
He’d make her forget.
When he was done, she’d be lucky if she remembered her name.
Eve sucked in her breath as she stared into the smoldering passion in Rick’s gaze. No man had ever looked at her quite like that before. Coming from him, it was an overwhelmingly heady sight. The fierce determination swirling amid the desire, however, gave her pause.
What the devil was Rick planning?
Apprehension skimmed up her stomach, straight to her throat. Rick’s callused palms and teasing fingers followed close behind, but they stopped a bit shorter—at the base of her ribs. She sucked in her breath as he sent her one last fiery look before he shifted his body and bent down low. When he slipped his hands between her thighs and parted them, she knew exactly what he was up to.
Oh, my…
Her lids slammed down instinctively as she arched into his intimate kiss, her breath hissing out long after she should have died from pleasure. When she recovered from the initial shock, she tried to protest, to shift, to draw him up. But he wouldn’t budge. He simply locked her thighs in place and ignited a swirling inferno inside her core that threatened to consume her. In the mindless moments that followed, she couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. All she could do was gasp and sigh, over and over. All that existed was his seeking mouth, his knowing tongue. Her entire world was so drenched she couldn’t begin to
understand how she could be so on fire.
But she was.
The flames of his passion licked at her again and again, alternating between soothing, teasing and stabbing. And then he started all over. Every now and then he latched on with his lips and tugged insistently until she couldn’t even sigh anymore. All she could do was moan.
She was close, so close all she had to do was let go and she’d be there. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to.
It wasn’t right.
Rick wasn’t there with her.
She tried tugging at his hair, pulling at the muscles of his shoulders. When that didn’t work, she begged. Pleaded.
Shamelessly.
Dammit, she needed him. Now.
Inside her.
Suddenly, he was above her, looming over her—and then he was ramming into her so hard and so deep that for one brief delirious moment, she was filled to the brim. In that moment, her entire world was absolutely perfect.
Then he moved.
And it got even better.
She locked her arms around his chest and held on for dear life, reveling in the rock-hard muscle covering every inch of her as he thrust into her again and again. Unable to rein in her voice or her heart any longer, she poured out her pleasure and her love into his ear as her world converged on that single glorious sensation. She was dimly aware of his voice answering her back, ragged and raw. Her name, over and over, and then something else. As if it had been ripped from his throat.
She tried to concentrate, tried to understand.
But it was impossible.
Because he was still moving, still grinding into her, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. She was wound so tight, every sensation so intense, she was terrified that any moment she was going to shatter into a million tiny pieces.
And then she did.
A moment later Rick stiffened, shouting her name one last time before he followed. But as what was left of them floated down to the bed, she realized what he’d said.
He loved her.
What should have been one of the most precious moments of her life had turned into one of intense agony.
Of shame.
Eve closed her eyes against the band of light shining through the bathroom doorway, against an even harsher pain. She didn’t need to catch a second glimpse of Rick slumped against the edge of the marble sink, staring intently into his clenched hands, to know he was desperately trying to figure out how to get out of their room without offending her. She could feel it. Just as she’d felt him pulling away from her twenty minutes before—before their passion had even begun to ebb—retreating behind that damned stoned wall of his, this time shoring it up with a vengeance.
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