by Maren Smith
“Stop!” Brianna held up her hand, interrupting him again.
“No, Bee, I won’t stop! I know this isn’t what you want to hear but you need to hear it.”
“Just go, Max. I don’t want to be rescued. I don’t need to be rescued. Just. Leave!” Brianna enunciated, before dismissing him by turning away and walking toward the back of her clinic.
She was all too familiar with the horrors the monsters he was referring to had inflicted on people. She had treated their victims in this very clinic, attending to wounds that were received in unspeakable manners. But in her almost two years of being here, even coming face to face with some of them, having had weapons pointed at her head, pressed into her neck, demands yelled at her in several different languages, she had never been their direct target. She was valuable, not as an American, but as a medical doctor who could heal them.
She wouldn’t tell Max that of course, couldn’t tell him. If he knew what she had already experienced, it would further his resolve to get her out of here. If he knew she had been on the other end of a loaded weapon, he would probably carry her, kicking and screaming, out of the clinic. What she needed was for him to leave on his own accord, peacefully, without making a scene and bringing unwanted attention to her clinic. Maybe he would get the point if she stopped arguing and walked away. She had managed just fine without him or anyone else and would continue to. She fully intended to fulfill her two-year commitment to the people in this community.
“Look, Brianna, I’m about two seconds from tossing you over my knee and tearing into your ass until you are motivated enough to cooperate.” Max appeared behind her, hissing the words into her ear.
Brianna’s stomach lurched at his threat. It took her back, way back to the days where she was his. His to make love to, his to punish when she was naughty, his to cuddle and adore. Back when life was simple. That was before. She didn’t let herself think about those days. Not often, anyway.
She knew exactly what it was like to be over his knee and having his particular brand of discipline applied, and it wasn’t something she was especially anxious to repeat.
Liar.
That little voice inside whispered out of nowhere. She would have to silence that traitorous vixen real quick.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.
Max took her elbow, spinning her until she was facing him. He was so close that she had to tilt her head back to look at him.
“Wouldn’t I? Do you want to test that theory out? Just try me.”
Jesus, why was she being this stubborn? Max had had just about enough of her games, and the palm of his hand was itching to spank some sense into her. She hadn’t changed one bit in the decade since he had last seen her. Sure, she had gotten older, even more beautiful, if that were possible. She was still just as impulsive, stubborn and feisty as she had always been and he was just as crazy about her. He stared her down, half hoping to warm her ass before carrying her out. One way or another the woman was going to leave the clinic with his team.
“We have a problem.” Hudson McGhee, or Phantom as he was otherwise known as by the team, returned to the room, radio in hand.
“What’s up?” The radio was quickly passed to Max. Communication was sketchy at best. The embassy was under attack and the Marines posted as security there needed immediate backup as they evacuated the Americans from the grounds. A rocket-propelled grenade had already taken out the east gate. It was only a matter of time before the grounds were breached.
Max thought quickly. They obviously couldn’t take Brianna, an unarmed, untrained civilian with them as it was too dangerous. They didn’t have time to evacuate her and come back. Timing was everything. They would have to find a way to keep her safe and assist their Marine brothers at the same time.
Fuck.
No way was he putting Brianna anywhere near harm’s way. He had just found her after all these years; he wasn’t about to lose her. Then he remembered there was a CIA safe house not far from their location. One team member could take Brianna there, keep her safe until they could evacuate her and the rest of the team could meet up with the Marines at the embassy. Unable to come up with any other suitable options, he quickly suggested this plan. It was approved immediately.
The question remaining was who would he assign to escort Brianna to the safehouse? Max was torn between duty to his men and the calling toward the woman he had loved since he was twelve years old.
“You take her,” Phantom answered Max’s unspoken question, reading him, as he often did. There was a reason his best friend was also his second in command, he often knew him better than he knew himself. “Look, brother, I can see you struggling with the decision. I know the choice will ultimately lie between you and me. You are invested in this one’s safety; your mind won’t be on the job if you send me with her. If you can look me in the eye and tell me you won’t be distracted by worrying about her while on the mission, then I’ll go with her.” The challenge was tossed his way.
Phantom was right and Max knew it. He would be no good leading the team if he couldn’t separate his concern for Brianna’s safety from the mission to evacuate the embassy. Max had never had an issue with distraction before. He was too well-disciplined. Where the fuck was all this distraction coming from?
Stop fooling yourself. You know exactly where. The pretty little thing standing across from you. His eyes went from Phantom to Brianna. Her left hand was fisted on her cocked hip, her bottom lip slightly pushed out, fire dancing in her eyes. She was ready to battle with him. He cocked an eyebrow at her, as if to say, Come at me, baby.
“That’s the plan then.” Phantom spoke the statement into the air, seeing the exchange. Max nodded.
“Don’t I get any say in this?” Brianna, who also had been privy to the exchange, asked.
“No.” Max couldn’t believe his ears. What exactly did she think she was going to get a say over?
“There is another option. You could go with your men and I could, I don’t know, stay here at my clinic?” Brianna continued as if she hadn’t heard his answer.
“No.” Max gritted his teeth. He was one second away from turning her over his knee and spanking some sense into her right there in front of Phantom. He’d had just about enough. Couldn’t she see that he was trying to save her life? He planted his feet further apart and gave her his best scowl, the one he normally reserved for dressing down an impertinent young sailor.
“Can I at least have someone go with me who isn’t going to growl at me?” The imploring look she shot Phantom made both men laugh.
“That wouldn’t be good for the team,” Phantom said gently.
“Why not?” a bewildered Brianna asked him.
“Because a distracted SEAL is a dead SEAL and you have become one big distraction for Max. None of us feel like losing our lives today.”
“What does that mean? How am I distracting him? I wouldn’t be a distraction at all if you would just leave me here.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Max snapped. Stepping forward, he none too gently grasped Brianna’s upper arm. He should have never allowed her to push him away in the first place, then he wouldn’t have been sent into the Congo jungle to save her ass. He should have never left that night. He should have stayed right there and shaken her until she came to her senses. He should have loved her harder… there were many things he should have done. But, he hadn’t done them and here he was, having to send his men into combat without him to save Brianna’s ass from insurgents. A butt he wanted nothing more than to paddle raw at the moment.
“You are coming with us and that is all there is to it. Do you get me?” The room was dead silent as the two faced off.
With an irritated growl, Brianna responded, “I get you.”
“About fucking time. Let’s go.”
“I need to grab a few things…” Brianna looked around the room, motioning with her hands.
“You have thirty seconds and not a second longer.” Max watched as she o
pened the closet and took out a backpack before scurrying around the clinic. At least now she was hurrying.
“I’ll let the team know what is going on,” Phantom said, heading toward the door.
“All right, Bumble Bee,” Max called, using his childhood pet name for her, “time’s up.”
“I still don’t like this. I should be able to stay if I want to. I am an American, I have rights.”
“Can’t enjoy any of those rights if you are dead,” Max muttered under his breath. Ignoring the annoyed look coming from across the room, he continued, “Brianna, you can enjoy all those rights once we get you safely back to America. Keeping you safe and bringing you back home stateside is my mission. I am a Navy SEAL. The one thing I don’t do is fail my missions.”
Chapter Two
The two Land Rovers outside of Brianna’s clinic had seen better days. Battered with chipped paint jobs, they didn’t look like the rides she would expect to see elite special forces rolling around in.
“We do everything in our power to fit into our surroundings,” Max stated.
“I see. Armor and big weapons is what everyone in the country is wearing,” Brianna quipped. Phantom chuckled again. She turned toward the sound. “I really am beginning to like that laugh. I think I would prefer you to be the one to go with me.”
“Sorry, no can do,” Phantom stated.
“Do you remember where the house is?” Another man walked up, wearing the same black pants and nondescript shirts as the other SEALs.
“Roger. We will hang out there until I get the call about the rendezvous point.” A few more words were exchanged among the men, words that sounded like were being spoken in another language. A moment later Max was steering Brianna by the elbow into the front Land Rover.
“Have you ever shot a weapon before, Bee?” he asked her.
“No. My oath is to do no harm, Max. That doesn’t include shooting people.”
“When it comes down to keeping your own life, you might rethink that.”
“Or you know, I might be able to defuse the situation with words instead of violence,” she countered.
“I doubt the LRA would be interested in listening to your words,” Max said, referring to the Lord’s Resistance Army. The guerrilla insurgent group had been waging war in the Congo since the late 80s. Brianna had patched up a few too many of their victims… and sobbed herself to sleep when she was alone after having to pronounce a few of them dead in front of their wailing family members.
“Where are you taking me, anyway? I heard you say something about a safe house?” Brianna changed the subject. This was a topic neither of them wanted to discuss.
“It is best you don’t know the exact location. I can tell you that we are going to a CIA safe house on Lake Kivu. It is in a tourist location, but the house is isolated, hard to get to unless you know it is there. The locals in the surrounding area are used to American vacationers being present. They won’t blink an eye at a young American couple driving through to get to the house.”
They drove in silence until they had left the center of the city and hit the back-country roads that would lead to the border between the Congo and Rwanda. The dirt roads were riddled with potholes, making for a bumpy ride, and more than once, Brianna found herself gripping the door to prevent hitting her head on the roof of the steel vehicle.
As they drove, she kept stealing glances at the man next to her. His body was tense, on high alert. He constantly checked the mirrors, looking to see if they had been followed. She had tried to convince him that she wasn’t on anyone’s high-value kidnapping list, but it was obvious that his special forces training had kicked in.
Max had changed very little in the decade they were apart. He had always been tall, reaching six-foot status in eighth grade when they were merely twelve years old. By the time they were freshman, he had reached six-two, and walking across the stage to get his high school diploma, he had finally hit his potential of six feet, five inches tall. He had been lean in middle school, almost lanky. Fast and agile, he’d been a natural athlete. It wasn’t until high school that he bulked up. His muscles hadn’t stopped growing at eighteen, that was sure. The years had been good to him… very good to him.
The boy of her youth had disappeared and a rugged, broad-chested, muscular man had taken his place. Hard. His entire body was hard, from that strong square jawline down his abdomen and across those widespread thighs. She caught herself subconsciously licking her lips.
God, he was hot. She tried to convince herself that it was only a physical attraction she was feeling. After all, he was a sexy as hell Navy SEAL sent to rescue her, and it had been entirely too long since she had set her eyes on a good-looking man. Sure. That was what it was. It had nothing to do with his take-charge attitude, his threat to beat her ass or the memories of his love making that came rushing back to her when he walked into her clinic. Or the rush of liquid that filled her panties. No, none of that.
The Land Rover came to a stop in front of a large, white cement wall with a black iron gate in the center. Max quickly hopped out of the vehicle, punched in some numbers and opened the gate, got back in and drove through, before securing the gate behind them. Large trees were on either side of the road they drove down. About a quarter mile later, he stopped and climbed out beside what appeared to be a white storage shed. Opening the doors, he pulled the vehicle inside.
“We will walk down to the house from here,” he told her, grabbing both of their bags out of the back seat.
It wasn’t a long walk down to the house. From the back, a high retaining wall hid the building from view. As they walked around the front, along the beautifully laid brick path, she was surprised to see the sturdy white plaster bungalow in front of her. It had two large columns, a porch with a table and chairs and several windows covered with decorative iron bars.
“This is a beautiful location,” she exclaimed, turning to look at the lake in front of her. It was private, secluded and had an amazing unrestricted view.
“Yeah, it’s not bad,” Max agreed. “It was a vacation rental house that the CIA made an offer on that the owner couldn’t refuse. They bought it due to the location and ability to secure it. They have hired a local family who takes care of it when it is empty and who brings over the necessary supplies when it is in use. They think a millionaire owns it and conducts private business here. They get paid well for their discretion.”
“How did you know all of that?”
“I’ve been here before.”
“Oh?” She had so many questions.
“I can answer all your questions later. For now, let’s get inside.”
Like the gate, Max quickly punched in the security code. Entering the house, Brianna took in her surroundings. The tile floors, white walls and arched doorways of the open layout bungalow were modern and stylish. But, the black leather couch and loveseat, the flat screen TV adorning the wall, the kitchen and bathroom with running water, were unlike anything she had seen in the twenty months she had been in the country. Of course, she hadn’t visited any of the touristy locations or stayed at any of the resorts. She wasn’t here for a holiday as her British co-workers called it, but for work.
“There is an all-inclusive resort not far from here, across the lake. It has a dozen or so bungalows, a spa, restaurant and boat rentals onsite. They give tours to see the gorillas and the like. Rwanda is considered safe to travel for Americans, unlike the DRC. It would have been a better place for you to have set up shop.”
“I don’t choose where I am needed most,” Brianna responded to his scolding tone.
“You could, I don’t know, say no to locations that all but guarantee assault if not death?” Max quipped back.
“Why? The children born in these locations don’t get a say about where they are born. The mothers don’t get a choice on where they deliver their babies. They didn’t pick a war-torn, violence-ravished country to become citizens of any more than I chose to be born a privileged American in
a country where I have clean water, access to healthcare and food.”
“Touché!” Max said, holding up a hand in surrender. “Let’s not fight. Why don’t you look around while I call back to the rear and let them know we have arrived safely?”
“Call? There is a phone?”
“There is a phone, internet and even satellite television.”
“If Rwanda is as safe as you say, why can’t we just go there and travel over to America?”
“Don’t you think if it were that easy, we would just do it? The border is crawling with the LRA and other insurgents. Just the two of us can’t get across and I won’t risk your life without backup. It is too dangerous. We will wait here until the embassy is evacuated. We are safe here. As long as we lay low, stay put and don’t bring any attention onto ourselves, we will be fine.”
“How long do you think we will be here?” she asked, silently adding, stuck alone with you?
“A day at most.”
“Okay. Well, I guess I will look around while you make contact with the team.” There wasn’t much more to see. She took a closer look at the kitchen, surprised at how modern the new Glamstar refrigerator, four-burner gas stove with oven, and beautiful blue and white tile backsplash were. It was night and day different from the small huts that lined the village she worked in. She slept on a cot in the back of her clinic with a small bathroom consisting of a toilet and a sink. Her kitchen consisted of a hot plate, coffee pot and microwave oven.
Moving through the house, she noted the two separate bedrooms. Both had large beds with mosquito netting surrounding them, a small two-drawer dresser on each side with the one bathroom nestled between the rooms, connecting them. The bathroom, like the kitchen, was modern and beautiful. The same blue and white tile lined the walls, with a toilet and single small sink. A shower and a separate bathtub finished the room. She eyed the bathtub with great interest. It had been months since she had taken a bath. Stepping into the tub, she peered out the three windows that arched above it.