She watched Ensign Jones as he spoke quietly to the other SEALs. He certainly was a piece of work. She couldn’t believe those smiles he kept giving her. Here they were, deep inside an embassy overrun with terrorists, and Jones had been firing off his very best bedroom smile in her direction. He was as relaxed as a man leaning against a bar, offering to buy her a drink, asking for her sign. But this wasn’t a bar, this was a war zone. Still, Jones looked and acted as if he were having fun.
Who was this guy? He was either very stupid, very brave or totally insane.
Totally insane, she decided, watching him as he took a bundle of robes from another of the SEALs. Underneath his own robe, he wore some kind of dark-colored vest that appeared to be loaded with all kinds of gear and weaponry. He had what looked to be a lightweight, nearly invisible set of headphones on his head, as well as an attached microphone similar to, but smaller than, something a telephone operator would wear. It stretched out on a hinged piece of wire or plastic and could be maneuvered directly in front of his mouth when he needed to talk.
What kind of man did this kind of thing for a living?
Jones tossed one of the robes to Chris Sterling and the other to her, along with another of those smiles.
It was hard to keep from smiling back.
As Melody watched, Jones spoke to someone outside the room through his little mike and headphones as he efficiently and quickly dressed the still-unconscious Kurt Matthews in the third robe.
He was talking about sandals. Sandals, apparently, were a bit harder to procure than the robes had been. At least it was difficult to find something in her size.
“She’s going to have to go in her socks,” one of the other SEALs finally concluded.
“It’s cold out there,” Jones protested.
“I don’t care,” Melody said. “I just want to go.”
“Let’s do it,” the black man said. “Let’s move, Cowboy. Cat controls the back door. Now’s the time.”
Jones turned to Melody. “Put the kicks back on. Quickly.”
“But you said—”
He pushed her down into a chair and began putting the sneakers on her feet himself. “Lucky, got your duct tape?”
“You know I do.”
“Tape the bottom of her foot,” Jones ordered, thrusting the tied shoe on Melody’s right foot toward the other SEAL.
The SEAL called Lucky got to work, and Jones himself began taping the bottom of her left sneaker, using a roll of silvery gray duct tape he, too, had been carrying in his vest.
They were covering the tread, making sure that when she walked, she wouldn’t leave an unusual footprint behind.
“It might be slippery.” Jones was kneeling in front of her, her foot on his thigh, as if he were some kind of fantasy shoe salesman. “And we’re going to have to make sure that if you wear it through, we tape ’em up again, okay?”
Melody nodded.
He smiled. “Good girl.” He moved his mike so that it was in front of his mouth. “Okay, Cat, we’re all set. We’re coming out.” He turned to Melody. “You’re with me, okay? Whatever happens, stick close to me. Do exactly what I say, no questions. Just do it, understand?”
Melody nodded again. She was his girl. She couldn’t think of anything else she wanted to be right at that particular moment.
“If shots are fired,” he continued, and for once his face was serious, his eyes lit with intensity rather than amusement or attraction, “get behind me. I will protect you. In return, I need two hundred percent of your trust.”
Melody couldn’t tear her gaze away from those neon green eyes. She nodded.
Maybe this man was insane, but he was also incredibly brave. He’d come into this terrorist stronghold to help rescue her. He’d been safe and sound, but he chose to give that up and risk his life for hers. I will protect you. As bold and as confident as his words were, the truth was that the next few minutes could see them both killed.
“In case something goes wrong,” she began, intending to thank him. God knows if something went wrong, she wouldn’t have the chance to thank him. She knew without a doubt that he would die first—taking bullets meant for her.
But he didn’t let her finish. “Nothing’s gonna go wrong. Joe Cat’s got the door. Getting out of this latrine’s gonna be a piece of cake. Trust me, Mel.”
He took her hand, pulling her with him out into the hall.
Piece of cake.
She almost believed him.
2
Something was wrong.
Melody could tell from the seriousness with which the man Ensign Jones called Joe Cat was talking to the shorter, blond-haired man named Blue.
They’d made it safely out of the embassy just as Jones had promised. They’d come farther than she’d ever thought possible. They’d traveled across and outside the limits of the city, up into the hills, moving quietly through the darkness.
The danger had not ended when they left the embassy. The city was under military rule, and there was a predusk curfew that was strictly enforced. If they were spotted by one of the squads patrolling the streets, they would be shot without any questions.
More than once, they’d had to hide as a patrol came within inches of them.
“Close your eyes,” Jones had murmured into her ear as the soldiers had approached. “Don’t look at them. And don’t hold your breath. Breathe shallowly, softly. They won’t see us, I promise.”
Melody’s shoulder had been pressed against him, and she leaned even closer, taking strength from his solid warmth. And from the thought that if she died, at least she wouldn’t die alone.
After that, each time they had to hide, he’d slipped one arm around her, keeping his other arm free for his deadly-looking assault weapon. Melody had given up her pretense of being strong and independent. She’d let him hold her—let him be big and strong, let herself take comfort from his strength. She’d tucked her head underneath his chin, closing her eyes and listening as the steady beating of his heart kicked into overdrive, breathing softly and shallowly as he’d told her.
So far they hadn’t been caught.
Jones came and sat next to her now.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said bluntly, not trying to hide the truth from her.
Her trust in him went up to just over a thousand percent. He wasn’t trying to pretend everything was hunky-dory when it so obviously was not.
“The chopper’s a no-show,” he told her. In the moonlight, his expression was serious, his mouth grim instead of curling up into his usual smile. “They’re ten minutes late. We’re getting ready to split up. We can’t keep moving together. Come daybreak, a group this size is going to get noticed. And it won’t be long before the tangos realize you and Pete and Linc got away.”
Pete and Linc. The men who made up two-thirds of the Mod Squad. Even at his most serious, this man couldn’t resist making a joke of sorts. “Ten minutes isn’t that long,” Melody countered. “Shouldn’t we just wait?”
Jones shook his head. “One minute isn’t that long. Ten is too long. The chopper’s not coming, Mel. Something went wrong, and our waiting here is putting us in danger.” He lifted one of her feet, looking at the bottom of her sneaker. “How’s that duct tape holding up?”
“It’s starting to wear through,” Melody admitted.
He handed her his roll of tape. “Can you put on another layer yourself? We need to be ready to leave here in about three minutes, but right now I want to put in my two cents about our next move.”
Melody took the tape from him as he stood up.
Split up. He’d said they were going to split up. Melody felt a sudden rush of panic. “Jones,” she called softly, and he paused, looking back at her. “Please. I want to stay with you.”
She couldn’t see his eyes in the shadows, but she saw him nod.
Dawn was beginning to light the eastern sky before they stopped moving.
Harvard had the point and he’d traveled twice as far as Cowboy and M
elody had during the night. He’d continuously moved ahead, silently scouting out the best route to take, then doubling back to report what he’d seen.
Cowboy was glad to have H. on his team. Moving through hostile territory would’ve been tricky enough for two SEALs on their own. Add a female civilian into the equation, and that mission got significantly harder. Getting across the border was going to be a real pain in the butt.
He glanced at Melody. The small smile she gave him both worried and elated him.
It was obvious she trusted him. He hadn’t been the only one in Alpha Squad to hear her say that she wanted to stay with him. Under normal circumstances, such an overheard remark would’ve been subject to merciless teasing. Cowboy Jones, notorious lady-killer, strikes again.
But every one of those other men knew that the lady’s words only verified that Cowboy had done his job and done it well. It wasn’t easy to gain the complete confidence and trust of a former hostage. Kurt Matthews, for instance, hadn’t bonded to Cowboy in quite the same way.
Still, the girl trusted him. He saw it in her eyes every time he looked at her. He knew without a doubt that in the course of a few short hours, he had become the most important person in her world.
He’d spent quite a bit of time studying the psychology of hostages and the emotions and fears involved in a rescue mission such as this one. He’d spent twice as much time learning what to expect from himself—his own behavior and psychological reactions when faced with life-and-death situations.
And what worried him most about Melody Evans’s smile was not the fact that he’d become the center of her universe. No, what worried him most was that she had somehow managed to become the center of his.
He knew it could happen. The danger, added to the tremendous responsibility of preserving another’s life, and multiplied by a very natural and honest sexual attraction, sometimes resulted in an emotional response above and beyond the norm.
He’d first been aware of his inappropriate response to this girl when they’d hidden from the city’s patrols. She’d huddled close and he’d put his arm around her—nothing wrong with that. She’d rested her head against his chest—and there was nothing wrong with her drawing strength and support from him that way, either.
But then, beneath the pungent odor of the shoe polish she wore on her hair, beneath the more subtle yet no less sharp odor of fear that surrounded all of the former hostages, he’d smelled something sweet, something distinctly female.
And then, right then, when the curfew patrol was inches away from them, when they were nanoseconds away from being discovered and killed, he’d felt Melody relax. The tension among the other hostages and the SEALs could’ve been cut with a knife, but Melody had damn near fallen asleep in his arms.
He knew in that instant that she trusted him more completely than anyone had ever trusted him before. Her faith in him was strong enough to conquer her fear. Her life was in his hands, and she’d placed it there willingly, trusting that if she died it would be because there was no other way out.
And just like that, as they hid behind trash in one of the city’s back alleys, Cowboy’s entire life changed. He felt his pulse rate accelerate out of control, felt his body respond to her nearness.
He might’ve been able to dismiss it as mere sexual desire except that it happened over and over again—even when she wasn’t touching him. All this girl had to do was smile at him, and he got that same hot, possessive rush.
Cowboy knew he should have mentioned the way he was feeling to Joe Cat before they split into three smaller groups. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to risk Cat’s pulling him away from Melody. He wanted to make damn sure she got out of this armpit of a country alive. As much as he trusted his teammates, he knew the only way he’d be certain of that was to stay close, to take care of her himself.
With Harvard’s help.
As the sun climbed above the horizon, they sat for a moment in the growing warmth outside a shallow cave Harvard had found cut into a desolate outcropping of rocks.
Once they warmed up, they’d spend the daylight hours here, out of the sun and out of sight of anyone wandering the foothills. Come nightfall, they would set out again, heading steadily north.
“I’ll take the first watch,” Cowboy told Harvard.
Melody was sitting next to him, near the entrance to the cave, her head back, eyes closed, face lifted toward the warmth of the sun. He touched her arm lightly, ready to pass her his canteen, but she didn’t move. She was exhausted, but she hadn’t complained once, all night long.
“Maybe you should get her settled first,” Harvard said in a low voice.
“Am I suddenly not here?” Melody asked, opening her eyes and surprising them both.
Harvard laughed, a low, rich chuckle. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Where are we heading?” she asked. Her eyes were nearly the same shade of blue as the cloudless sky. “Up to the coast?” They flashed in Cowboy’s direction as he handed her the canteen.
As their fingers touched, he felt an instant connection, a flood of electricity. And he knew damn well she felt it, too.
She was covered with dust from the road, smeared with shoe polish and utterly bone weary. Yet at the same time, she managed to be the most beautiful woman Cowboy could ever remember seeing. Damn, he shouldn’t be feeling this way. After this was over, he would have to go in for a psychological review, work with the unit shrink and try to pinpoint what it was, exactly, that he’d done wrong. Find out when it was that he’d let her get under his skin…
Harvard nodded. “We’re going for the ocean.” He glanced at Cowboy. They hadn’t had much time to discuss their route. “I thought it would be easier to leave the country by boat.”
“Or plane, Senior Chief,” Cowboy interjected. “Get us home a whole hell of a lot faster.”
Harvard caught and held his gaze, and Cowboy knew the older man was thinking the same thing he was. They’d both studied a map of this country during the briefing. There was a major city directly between their current position and the ocean. According to the map, that city had an airfield. Maybe instead of skirting the city, they should get close enough to check it out.
“With any luck, it’ll be a military base,” Cowboy said aloud. “We’re the last people they’ll be expecting to show up there.”
Harvard nodded. “The best defense is a strong offense.”
“Do you two always communicate through non sequiturs?” Melody asked.
Harvard stood up. “Junior thinks we should steal a plane tonight, and crazy as it sounds, I agree. But right now I’ve got a combat nap scheduled.” He paused before going into the cave, turning back to Melody. “You’ve got dibs on whatever soft ground is in there, milady,” he said.
But she shook her head. “Thanks, but…I want to get warm first,” she told him. She glanced at Cowboy and a faint blush spread along her cheeks as if she realized how transparent she was. No one was fooled. It was clear she wanted to be out here with her own personal hero.
Cowboy felt it again. That hot rush of emotion.
Harvard paused just inside the cave. “Don’t let her fall asleep out here,” he instructed Cowboy. “And make sure you get your Texan butt in the shade before too long, too. I don’t want you two pigment-challenged types unable to move come dusk because of a sunburn.”
“Yes, Mother,” Cowboy droned.
“And wake me in four.” Harvard headed toward the back of the cave. “No more, no less.”
Cowboy looked at Melody and smiled. “Hell, I thought he’d never leave.”
She blushed again.
“You okay?” he asked, both wishing she wasn’t sitting quite so far away and glad as hell for the distance between them. God help him if he actually got her into his arms when it wasn’t a life-and-death situation.
“I wish I could wash my face,” she told him.
Cowboy shook his head in apology. “We’ve got to save the water I’ve got
for drinking,” he told her.
“I know,” she said. “I just wish it, that’s all.”
The sun was warming the air considerably, and Cowboy loosened his robe and even unfastened the black combat vest he wore underneath.
Her next words surprised him. “I thought we’d be dead by now.”
“Tomorrow at this time, we’ll be on America-friendly soil.”
She shifted her legs and winced slightly, then pulled her feet closer to untie her sneakers. “You say that with such conviction.”
“Have I been wrong yet?” he countered.
She looked up at him, and her eyes were so wide, Cowboy felt as if he might fall into them and drown. “No,” she said.
She turned away from him then, looking down as she started to slip off her sneakers.
That was when Cowboy saw the blood on her socks. The entire backs of her socks were stained. She saw it, too, and stopped trying to take off her sneakers. She pulled her feet underneath her as if she intended to hide the blood from him.
“Are you really from Texas?” she asked.
Cowboy was shocked. She was. She was planning to not tell him that her new sneakers had rubbed her heels raw. She wasn’t going to mention that her feet were bleeding, for God’s sake. Every step she’d taken last night had to have been sheer agony, but she hadn’t said a word.
“Yeah,” he managed to say. “Fort Worth.”
She smiled. “You’re kidding. How did someone from Fort Worth end up in the navy?”
Cowboy looked her squarely in the eye. “I know that your feet are bleeding,” he said bluntly. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about that, like twelve hours ago?” His voice came out sounding harsher, sharper than he’d intended.
And although her smile faded and her face went a shade paler, she lifted her chin and met his gaze just as steadily. “Because it wasn’t important.”
“I have a medical kit. I could have wrapped ’em. All you had to do was say something!”
Tall, Dark and Dangerous Part 1 Page 77