Paige nodded then felt one corner of her mouth turn up. She’d liked it when he’d used her first name...had liked the sound of it coming out in his deep, commanding voice. For the first time, Paige regretted the fact she’d let him think she was into girls.
She felt rather than saw his intensity heighten when he glanced down at the odometer.
“Okay, Paige. Keep looking ahead. On the left there will be a house, probably with a few beat-up trucks out front and fresh tire tracks coming in off the road. There’ll be one, maybe two people sitting out front just enjoying the day and the sun.”
After another moment, they passed an occupied house although it was just as decrepit looking as the abandoned ones they’d already passed.
When it was behind them, Rick’s intensity ramped back down. “That was a check point. An observation post for the local bad guys,” he added when he glanced over and saw her brow furrow. “They keep an eye out for who’s coming and going, looking for new faces. They especially look for military passing through.”
“Do you think they spotted us?” Paige hated the nervousness in her voice.
“Not a chance. Not in this heap,” Rick answered reassuringly. He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze, then returned his focus to the road and eased the four-by-four onto the shoulder to avoid a stretch of broken pavement. “Especially not with you riding in it.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, glad of the diversion he offered.
“You’re young. And beautiful. The military doesn’t send women like you into unreclamated areas unless you’re part of a reclamation squadron. You, Paige,” he added happily, “are the best cover I’ve ever had. This job’ll be a walk in the park.”
“Well, glad to do my part to keep your ass safe, Rick,” she teased. Paige wondered why she felt so comfortable around this formidable man who wielded his powerful personality and natural authority as effortlessly as she wielded a thermometer.
“Well my ass thanks you, Paige,” he replied with a grin and ran his fingers lightly down her forearm. Realizing what he was doing, he pulled back but not before he’d allowed himself a second to savor the softness of her skin, the suppleness of the muscle beneath. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when she didn’t haul off and slap him across the mouth for groping her.
The radio crackled to life again. “Second check-point passed. Thirty kilometers past start point. Over.”
They fell silent after that. About fifteen minutes out of town, Rick pulled onto a side road and drove until they were out of sight of the main road. “Time to pee, Paige,” he informed her brightly. “You take that side. I’ll take this one.”
“But I don’t—”
“Go anyway,” he insisted. “If either of us has to go once we’re in town, we’ll have to separate. And what’s the number one rule?” he asked as he got out.
“Don’t step away from you,” she parroted obediently then walked into the underbrush.
When she returned, she found Rick had already opened the back of the four-by-four and her med kit. Paige tucked her dog tags into the case holding her blood-pressure monitor then brought out a few basic medical supplies...some bandages and gauze, two ampoules of antibiotic, one of morphine. She hid them in the lining of her straw handbag. “Just in case,” she said when Rick looked at her.
He nodded curtly and closed up the Jeep’s false bottom, helped her back into the vehicle and turned it around.
Soon, they were passing inhabited houses, plots of land that were being farmed and fields with small herds of domestic animals. Rick slowed down as they approached the outskirts of town. “While we’re here, the hardest thing will be not to acknowledge the members of the unit. You’ll likely see them around but don’t let on you know them. They know you’re new at this and will try to stay out of your line of sight but there’s no guarantee.”
“Understood,” she breathed, not sure she’d be able to pull it off but, again, Rick squeezed her hand reassuringly and she felt her shoulders relax.
He eased the four-by-four into a parking spot. Well, what used to be a parking spot twenty-two years ago. Now it was just an open swath at the side of the street. There were maybe two other trucks parked there, but mostly it was carts or buggies with horses harnessed to them. He came around to Paige’s side and opened her door. Taking her hand, he helped her down then reached in for his sack of hand-made shoes. He nodded in the direction of the market stalls, clustered around what had probably been the town’s main intersection. Then he looked down, grinning as Paige’s hand slid into his.
“Just making sure I don’t step away from you,” she said and squeezed gently.
Rick decided he liked the feel of her soft, warm hand more than enough to keep it there and, holding her fingers carefully, walked toward the market.
Paige was perfect for this work. She was pretty and guileless and merchants chatted with her far more readily than they would a strange, hulking man. That and the fact that his shoes looked remarkably elegant against her long, tanned legs, they had no trouble bartering and engaging merchants in discussions outside of business. After a while, he found he could just stand back and let her take the lead. She drew people out easily and comfortably, spun their story about her Aunt Edith, hinted that things weren’t so good where they’d come from and maybe they might be looking for a new place to live. Somewhere he could set up business, asking in roundabout ways about the general conditions in town...how safe it was, what the water was like.
Things it might take his unit two or three visits to find out.
He imagined it was a quality that made her a good medic—getting people to talk. Although, before today, their conversational highlights had been the clap and her telling him to pee in a cup. Generally not the sort of things lasting friendships were built on.
Rick was constantly aware of her touch. Her hand in his, or on his arm when she turned to him to make a point. The softness of her pressed lightly against him. In fact, they never once lost physical contact and he found himself doubting her story about being a lesbian. She was just too...comfortable with him. Far more than he was with her although he put that down to the fact he hadn’t dated anyone in over two years and was getting more of a rush from the simple contact than he should.
They walked past a stall selling fresh eggs and Paige hesitated. She sniffed the air discreetly then turned to the venders. Two men, somewhere in their late twenties, who had to be brothers. They both had wavy, dark blond hair and high cheekbones and they smiled at Paige with open interest.
Rick noticed that one of the brothers remained seated and that he was pale despite his tan, and his face shone with a light sheen of perspiration. He looked thinner and not quite as healthy as his brother.
Paige fingered one of the eggs lightly, turned to Rick and smiled up at him. “What do you say to some fresh eggs?”
He shrugged lightly. “We’ve got shoes to trade. But I’ve only got women’s sizes with me,” he said to the merchants hopefully.
“They’re really quite lovely,” Paige said and, for the first time, let go of him. She stepped around the side of the stall and held one leg out a little, modeling her shoe.
“Well...” the standing brother hummed, “our mother could use a pair. But I’m not sure what size.”
Paige pouted prettily—and so deliberately Rick wondered what the hell she was up to. He glanced across the stall and noticed that the seated brother had his leg propped up on a box. His calf seemed swollen and his pant leg was damp in one spot. Rick held out his hand. “I’m Rick. And this is Paige.”
“Glad to meet you,” the standing brother greeted him warmly and shook. “I’m Sam Keane and this is my brother, Flint.” Flint waved but remained seated. “I don’t think we’ve seen you around before.”
“No, we’re just passing through.” Paige started in on the same story she’d told at least eight times already, drawing them out on how business was and how often the market was held. Did they have another shoemaker wh
o came round and was he any good? Then she did something she hadn’t done before. Turning her wide, green gaze back to him, she smiled winningly. “Could we camp here another night? If the fit isn’t good, we could drop by their mother’s place and exchange the shoes for a pair that does fit.” Paige came back to his side and eased her body into his side, smoothing her hand across his back. “I’m tired of being on the road,” she whispered, making it look like the words were for his ear alone yet managing to pitch her voice just loud enough for the brothers to hear.
They exchanged a quiet grin then looked away at nothing in particular.
Rick had good instincts and his instincts told him Paige could be trusted. That she was smart. He wove his arm around her shoulder and hugged her gently. “All right,” he answered, breathing the word into her hair, into the silken fall of it just behind her ear, trying really hard to concentrate on the job and not on her unexpected and delightful closeness.
“So,” he said brightly, easing his body away from Paige’s with a disappointment that tore at him. “Can we strike a deal? The shoes for the eggs with a follow-up visit tomorrow to make sure they fit? I do custom fittings too, and I’ll throw one in for free if needed.”
“Now that’s a deal,” Sam Keane agreed happily and held out his hand. He and Rick shook.
Then Paige did something else that surprised Rick. She rummaged around in her oversized handbag and drew out a scrap of hand-pressed paper and a stub of a pencil—both common enough items in unreclamated areas—and handed them to the seated brother. “Give us directions to your mother’s house, Flint,” she said with a gentle smile. “We’ll be there tomorrow. About this time.”
When his brow furrowed and he glanced down at the paper in his hand, Paige laid her hand over his. “Keep it,” she said quietly. “One good shot...press hard with the pencil. It doesn’t write so good anymore,” she added and waited for him to write down the directions to his mother’s place. He tipped the paper to one side as if angling it toward the sun to read it before folding it carefully and handing it and the pencil back to Paige.
She slipped them back into her bag. Rick took three dozen eggs as payment and breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Paige returned to his side and once again wove her fingers into his.
“Tomorrow then,” she called out brightly, waved then turned away.
Rick knew better than to ask what the hell she was playing at—not here anyway. But as they continued down the stalls, he found himself thinking about the odd way she’d spoken to the seated brother, Flint. And the way she’d laid her hands over his. Dismissing his nagging thoughts, Rick returned his focus to the mission. Soon they were out of shoes and loaded down with bartered goods. Their part in the day’s mission complete, they made their way back to the four-by-four.
He lifted her back into the passenger seat, taking great delight in the feel of Paige’s small, toned waist in his hands. They drove back the way they’d come, past the first check point then the second. Only a couple of kilometers away from their base site, Rick suddenly sat up very straight.
“Son of a...” he bellowed, yanked on the wheel and the heavy vehicle shot up an unpaved side road that was now little more than a rough trail through the weeds, dodging trees that had grown big enough to slow them down until they crested a rise and were out of sight of the main road.
He killed the ignition and glared over at Paige. Her lack of response told him everything he needed to know. Jumping out of the vehicle, he raced around to her side, yanked open the door behind her, grabbed her bag and started rooting around in it, finally finding the concealed tear in the lining and bringing out the small satchel she’d stored her medical supplies in.
“Only one,” he bit out accusingly. He threw the handbag on the ground and yanked open her door, breathing so hard it rustled her hair. “Only one,” he repeated coldly, holding up the single ampoule of antibiotic that remained in her bag. “I don’t need to ask where the other one went.” He remembered her words. They’d sounded so peculiar at the time.
One good shot. Press hard.
“You palmed the other one. Told him how to inject himself and gave it to him. That brother—Flint Keane.”
Finally lifting her head, Paige looked at him calmly. “Yes.”
With an indiscriminate shout of rage, Rick grabbed her beneath the arms and lifted her bodily from the vehicle. He slammed her back against the hood and shook the ampoule in her face. “Why?” he shouted. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The entire mission—completely compromised. Any chance these people had of being reclamated is completely shot to hell. How could you do something so stupid?” He slammed his body into hers, bruising her deliberately. He slammed into her again until she had no choice but to bend backward under the weight of his anger, the sheer size of him.
“Two of the names on the town’s petition...” Paige gasped. She didn’t try to fight him. Didn’t hit him. She just bent back even more and winced when he slammed her pelvis into the hood. “Keane...Sam and Flint Keane.”
Rick bellowed again. “That doesn’t mean anything, Paige.” He threw the ampoule away and grabbed hold of her head, knocking her hat off and glaring down at her...glared hard and cold enough that he felt her shudder. “These bastards file false petitions all the time. Claim they want reclamation but all they want is a recon unit to show up with weapons, fuel and medicine and ambush the whole lot of them. Kill every last mother’s son just so they can steal their supplies.” He squeezed her head so hard her cheeks turned white.
He groaned in anger when he felt Paige’s soft, trembling hands on his face, her fingers on his cheeks. She touched the corners of his mouth with sweet, tremulous caresses. “Not these two.”
“How can you be sure?” he shouted then squeezed his eyes shut. “How...can you be sure?” The anger drained out of Rick’s voice, leaving it desperate and sad. Loosening his bruising grip on her, he laid his forehead on hers then pressed his mouth to the bridge of her nose. “Are you sure?” he whispered hoarsely.
“Yes,” Paige answered just as quietly. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him frantically to reassure him, to calm him and herself. If he’d asked why he should believe her, she would have told him about her instincts, always good and honed by her work as a medic. She listened to people all day. Listened to their lies and truths and embellishments, watched their body language. She’d learned to sift through fiction to get to the facts. Every instinct in her told her the Keane brothers had petitioned for reclamation because the wound in Flint’s leg was killing him.
Rick straightened slowly, easing the crushing pressure of his massive body against hers and bringing her with him. He wove his arms around her and held her tight. “If you’re wrong, Paige, you’ve killed us all.”
“I know. And I haven’t,” she whispered adamantly. She would have released him then, would have tried to go back to some semblance of order and decorum but Rick lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.
He possessed her more than kissed her. His firm, generous mouth parted, his whiskers rasped her face. His tongue drove deep, tasting her so completely and making her feel his presence so intensely, Paige trembled and grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into him.
His big body shuddered as he eased off. His tongue caressed hers now, asking instead of taking. His mouth was gentle as it moved over hers. His soft, heavy hair felt so good between her fingers, the sculpted mass of him heavenly, so powerful against her, so devastatingly male.
And then Paige was spinning. Again at the whim of Rick’s strength she was turning then leaning over the hood. She gasped when she felt his rough fingers on her thigh. The edge of her short skirt and panties were raised as he crouched behind her. She felt the warmth of his breath then the edge of his teeth dragging across her exposed ass. He bit her—a gentle nip soothed by the warm passage of his tongue—then bit her again before rising slowly, letting her skirt fall back into place. She felt the slow, sure sweep of his hands over her le
gs, her hips, caressing her waist and pulling her back into him, grinding his cock into her ass. He felt hot, hard and wonderful. She suddenly wanted him to take her—just drop his pants and shove her panties aside and fuck her in the middle of nowhere, leaning over the warm hood of a wreck. Fuck her with his hot breath on her neck and his big hands squeezing her breasts.
But he stopped, leaned away and turned her around.
Paige held his face between her hands. She loved the feel of his beard stubble beneath her palms. Lifting her mouth and nibbling at his chin, she moved her body into his. Wanting to feel the solid warmth of his chest against her aching nipples. Wanting to cradle his loins with hers. Rick put his hands on her hips and held her back gently.
“No,” he breathed, stirring her hair. “No I can’t have you, Paige. Not in the middle of a mission. Not while we’re working together.” His declaration was clearly in two parts—explanation for her, an order for him.
Despite his words and his honorable intentions, Rick’s hands drew her body to his. He nestled her belly against his hard cock. He rocked Paige’s body gently, hers and his rolling together, wanting her more than anything. He wanted her to be his—her life and her soul and that body that he would die a hundred deaths for—just for the privilege of possessing for a single hour. He was startled by his feelings but recon had taught him to identify and act quickly. The fact he’d survived this long testified to how good he was at it.
“It was easier when I could lie to myself about you being a lesbian,” he murmured and grinned crookedly.
“When did you know?” Paige asked quietly. She tipped her head back and met his gaze.
Rick exhaled tremulously. “When you looked at me.” He rolled her hips again—sweet and seductive. “Your first night, you looked at me like a woman looks at a man when she doesn’t have platonic on her mind.” He grinned again. “I knew you were no more a lesbian than I was. Although I actually do like girls.” Paige laughed softly and it was just about the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. “Guess I can’t fault you for wanting the guys to think you were though. It’s made things less...”
Gwen Campbell - [Love from the Ashes 02] Page 4