Undercover Soldier

by Linda O. Johnston

  He headed for the refrigerator as if he craved something besides fruit. Instead, he just wanted to surround himself with cooler air—and to give himself a few more precious seconds before he told Sherra the rest.

  And he would tell her the rest. She wouldn’t stop pressing him until she heard.

  “Did someone accuse you, Brody?” The soft words came not from near the table, but from beside him. Sherra stood next to him—and put her arm around his back as if offering support.

  He didn’t need it. He grabbed a bottle of water and wrested himself away.

  “Not in so many words,” he spat out. “But there were enough questions… .” And not enough answers.

  “Okay,” she said, once more invading his personal space. She stood right in front of him, looking up into his face. Her expression was much too understanding. Too kind.

  He didn’t want her sympathy.

  Well, hell, maybe he did.

  “I managed to secretly contact one of my most trusted instructors back at BOLC. He put me in touch with someone at the Department of Defense he thought could help me. But that person was in D.C., and I was still in Afghanistan, with no one I could trust.”

  “Let’s change the subject a little,” she said as if she knew how much pain this was causing him. But instead of easing it, she threw him onto a topic that could only hurt worse. “Who’s Brody Andrews, and how was he involved?”

  “Damn!” Brody exploded. “Leave it alone already.” He stomped away, evacuating the kitchen and heading for the living room.

  But there was no stopping Sherra. He heard her follow him through the hall and stop behind him.

  “I know you’re angry that I discovered there was a Brody Andrews,” she said softly from over his shoulder. “And that he was the one who appeared to survive after—”

  “After we were out together at a construction site and the IED exploded.” Brody knew he was shouting. With effort, he toned down his voice. “He was a new recruit, just arrived in Afghanistan a few months earlier. We’d run into each other and were both amused by how close our names were. We became buddies. I…I needed someone around there I could trust. I didn’t tell him everything, just enough to know I had concerns about how things were being handled. He was a good guy. Understood. We were friends already. He was there for combat, stationed in Kabul, too, till his next mission. I’d had concerns about that job site and its condition, so I was heading there to check it out. He had some free time and went with me. That was one of the matters on which I’d expressed my concerns officially and got nowhere. I hadn’t said where I was heading that day. Maybe Brody did. But…we were on the road, almost at the site, when the IED went off.”

  “And Brody Andrews was killed.” Sherra’s voice broke, and she put her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

  “And Brody McAndrews was killed,” he said softly against her hair. How could he notice the fresh lemony scent just then, when everything inside him was shattering all over again? “At first it was the medics who got confused. When we arrived at the hospital I was met by an officer who knew what I’d already been looking into. The incident had been reported, and the undersecretary of defense for government contracts, the department my BOLC instructor had gotten me in touch with, had already been notified. I was told I would recuperate, that I was going undercover, and that for my own safety I was Brody Andrews, since McAndrews had been the target and was presumed dead—and therefore no one would come after him again. I was injured enough that I could genuinely be evacuated. And that was that.”

  “Oh, Brody. I’m so sorry…” She stood on her toes, arms again around him. She drew his head down to hers.

  He couldn’t help it. He held her close, smothered her lips with his own, and kissed her as if that embrace was the only thing that could save him.

  Maybe it was.

  “Oh, Brody,” she whispered against him once more, and he allowed himself to get lost as she deepened the kiss.

  Chapter 8

  Foolish. This was foolish.

  Sympathy had driven Sherra closer to Brody. But it was more than sympathy that led her to indulge in this hot, hard kiss.

  She pushed even harder against him, reveling in the muscular feel of his body, the moist, alluring taste of his mouth.

  He responded. Did he ever. It was as though he had taken the emotions attached to what he had been saying and wrapped them into this increasingly heated embrace.

  Was this wise? He was hurting, thanks to her insistence on reminding him of what had happened to his friend. And to himself.

  She had wanted to ease his pain by touching him, drawing some of it to herself, but of course that wasn’t possible.

  Kissing him was another matter.

  And if she could help to ease his pain with another sexual encounter, would he take it to mean more than it was?

  “Sherra,” he whispered against her mouth.

  “Bill,” she managed to say in return, even as her lips curved in a smile that he licked with his tongue as he pulled away.

  “You’re right.” He looked so rueful, his face this close to her, that she gave a quick laugh, then reached up and drew him back, erasing anything else he might have intended to say by resuming the kiss.

  And adding to it by erotically pushing her abdomen against him.

  “This house you’ve rented. Where’s the bedroom?” she demanded, then regretted it as he pulled away. Heck, they could do anything they wanted right here, on the living room sofa.

  But an old married couple like they were pretending to be…

  He grabbed her hand, gave a hugely sexy smile. His eyes radiated heat that further fueled the conflagration raging inside her. If he hadn’t been holding her, she might have stumbled. Instead, she managed to stay on her feet and follow him.

  Fortunately, the bedroom was nearby. Her initial cursory glance suggested that it, like the rest of the place, could have used refurbishing, but who cared?

  They had barely gotten inside before Brody snatched her back into his embrace, kissing her while his hands got busy. In moments, she felt him shove her jeans down her legs, but Brody’s lips barely left hers as he bent to undress her. One hand moved beneath her T-shirt, stroking her breasts outside her bra. Then all clothing there, too, disappeared.

  “No fair,” she whispered, as she tugged off his shirt, then his pants. She’d used those same words all those years ago.

  She faced him, staring ravenously at his body, drinking in his muscular form yet again. His sexiness, his maleness huge and hard and inviting.

  She waited no longer before resuming contact. He wasn’t shirking, either. His mouth circled a nipple as his hands gripped her buttocks and moved her toward the bed. She felt the mattress behind her legs and let herself fall backward. He followed, joining her on the coverlet.

  He pulled away for a moment and reached into a drawer in the nightstand. Then she heard the sound of plastic ripping as he tore open a condom. Apparently he hadn’t filled only the kitchen for their stay… .

  He moved on top of her, and then he was inside her, thick and long and amazing as his movements accelerated, driving her need to a crescendo. She gasped as her orgasm started with a punch and rolled through her.

  That was when Brody’s cry of pleasure filled the air. He tautened against her, his weight heavy but no burden as he lay on top of her, breathing ragged.

  They lay there for several long moments. Minutes? Hours? Not long enough. Brody rolled gently off Sherra.

  “You okay, Sally?” he finally panted.

  “Oh, Bill, you still rock.” She rested her head on his chest.

  * * *

  Sherra must have fallen sound asleep, since the next time she was aware of anything was around daybreak, and Brody was crawling back into bed beside her.

&nbs
p; Which bothered her. She was definitely not used to having men in bed with her these days. The fact that she hadn’t stirred when Brody left was unnerving. Maybe a little scary.

  She might not, while they were here, be in all the danger that Brody had warned her about—and that she had seen when the stranger had invaded her condo unit. Plus, they might be far from her usual haunts with new identities. Despite all that, she should remain alert.

  “What time is it?” she asked groggily.

  “About six. Go back to sleep.” His voice was gentle, but the edge behind it woke her fully.

  “What’s going on?” She sat up. “Where were you?”

  He was still nude, and just enough light slipped between the narrow slats of the window blinds for her to see the broad, sexy outline of his body.

  If she hadn’t been irritated—and worried—she just might want him again.

  Well, hell, she did want him again. But first she wanted answers.

  “Bathroom,” he responded.

  “That was all?”

  “You want me to describe exactly what I did there?”

  “No,” she said through clamped teeth. “But I would like you to tell me who you talked to there.”

  He laughed shortly. “I thought I made it clear that I don’t hold conversations with my private parts.”

  “But you do talk on the phone while in the bathroom.”

  “That doesn’t mean—”

  “That you do it all the time? I know. But I’ll bet it’s the reason you got up.”

  He slipped back beside her under the pale blue sheets. His warmth slid toward her body, and she couldn’t help smiling—inside. Outside, she maintained her rigid posture as she continued to sit, propped against her pillow, watching him.

  “What do you want to bet?” he asked

  “I don’t—”

  “How about another round of great sex?” He moved so his chest was against hers—and his shaft pressed against her belly. “If I’m telling the truth, I get to make love to you. If I’m not, you can make love to me.”

  She laughed. “I can’t lose.”

  “Me, neither,” he said, taking her breast into his mouth.

  She moaned in delight—and decided that the rest of the conversation could wait.

  * * *

  Sherra had always been annoyingly smart, Brody thought a while later when he could use his brain again instead of just his body. Or not so annoyingly. Her intelligence was one of the many things he’d loved about her.

  But her neediness, and her stubbornness and determination that he should stay out of the military—they’d been things he hadn’t loved. In fact, they had been deal-breakers.

  But she had been right this time. He’d made a couple of calls when he’d awakened at dawn.

  Since she had fallen back to sleep now, he rehashed the conversations in his mind as he lay with his naked body pressed against hers. Good thing he was sated, since he was more than tempted to touch her yet again.

  Instead, he just enjoyed the warmth of her skin against his and the sound of her deep, even breathing as he directed his mind to things not at all sexually stimulating: his undercover work and the discussions he’d had—or not had—earlier.

  The first was to check in with Captain Michael Cortez. Mike had sounded like his usual cool self, but even so Brody knew him well enough to catch the slight edge in his voice.

  “So what’s really going on?” Brody had asked.

  “I got a call from Ragar. He has a lot of questions that I think you’d better answer directly.”

  That was John Ragar, assistant to the undersecretary of defense for government contracts, a relatively new department started because of all the bad publicity regarding private defense contractors. Brody had no idea whether things were improving now—although he knew he wasn’t the only soldier currently undercover with one of those questionable contractors.

  Brody reported directly to Mike, but the person in charge of his undercover investigation was Ragar. When Brody had returned to the States, he’d been visited in the hospital by Kennard Murcia, the undersecretary of defense for government contracts, and the assistant undersecretary, John Ragar, for debriefing. And to be given his new assignment.

  To the world, they’d told him, Brody McAndrews was dead. That was safer for him—and it meant he could be useful in finding out what was really going on, including determining who was responsible for the explosion that supposedly killed him. The suspicion was that it was one or more persons within the Corps of Engineers, but they needed evidence to prove it.

  That was where the undercover Brody was to come in. Ragar would be his primary contact within the department, and Brody was also assigned to report directly to Captain Michael Cortez. He remained in close contact with both of them.

  Brody had learned his lesson well. He hadn’t trusted any of them at first—or anyone else. But once he got out of the hospital, part of their recruitment process included familiarizing him with the checks and balances within the department’s hierarchy. Everyone underwent intense and ongoing scrutiny, especially because they knew there must be military members and civilians taking bribes and worse.

  Those reporting to the undersecretary of defense for government contracts could not be among the bad guys. That was one important reason that department had been established.

  Today, as soon as he hung up with Mike, Brody tried contacting Ragar. Because of the highly covert nature of his assignment, Brody had access to one of Ragar’s private lines. When he didn’t answer, Brody had left a message.

  Brody now kept close watch on his phone, though he had turned the sound off. There were enough protective layers in its electronic remote functioning that he didn’t fear anyone would be able to find him, but he hadn’t wanted Sherra to know who he was in touch with and why.

  She’d clearly guessed when.

  “Brody?” Sherra’s voice was a soft sigh. He turned to see her head still on the pillow, her black hair contrasting with its white cover, her eyes half open. She looked beautiful.

  He leaned over and kissed her gently on the mouth. “That’s me, more or less,” he reminded her.

  She smiled. “I guess it’s time to get up.” Her gaze scanned his body assessingly. “And I don’t mean any double entendres. Not now, at least.”

  * * *

  What the heck was she doing? Sherra asked herself for the dozenth time as Brody headed to the bathroom for his shower.

  Enjoying a difficult situation, she answered herself. As much as that was possible.

  But making love with Brody so much, after all this time—well, it could lead to further complications she didn’t need.

  Even so, she still hoped to use their lovemaking as a distraction to get him to stop acting so controlling.

  At least he hadn’t suggested that they shower together this time. They used to do that, back in the old days. But he apparently now needed his private time in the bathroom.

  She wondered if he would make any further phone calls.

  Meantime, she would take advantage of their brief separation. She had donned the fluffy yellow robe she’d hurriedly thrown into her suitcase. Now she sat at her laptop at the kitchen table. Brody had mentioned before he’d headed for the shower that they’d get on it together later to download reading material for her. She’d just jumped the gun a little, finding it in his suitcase and retrieving it.

  She listened for the sound of running water, then plugged the laptop in to ensure it had enough power. She had found her office smart phone, too, but dutifully left it where it was since it had GPS and she didn’t know if the person who’d invaded her condo could use its chip to find her.

  Then there was her personal smart phone, the extra secret she had hidden from Brody. She kept it wrapped in her underwe
ar and turned off, too. She would cooperate with him but still wanted access to the outside world. Private access.

  Her computer was nearly state-of-the-art, but she wouldn’t use her potentially traceable electronic card that gave her satellite internet access. Instead, when she turned on her unit, she searched for an unprotected signal from a neighbor’s internet service provider.

  And found one. She wanted to both hug and scold that neighbor. Maybe, when all this was over, she would find a way to warn the person how easily he could get hacked.

  But that wasn’t Sherra’s goal today. Instead, she quickly set up a new email address on a hugely popular internet site, one where she could remain fairly anonymous. Then she briefly accessed her usual personal account and, using her best hacking skills in case anyone discovered the anomaly, she set it to forward all messages to her new address. Was that enough protection? Probably not, but it was at least an attempt.

  She opened her new account. Among the forwarded messages were several from her coworker Miles.

  She opened the most recent one. It sounded frantic.

  Apparently Jenny, her next-door neighbor in the condo building, the person she was friendliest with there, had been coming home as Sherra left in such a hurry with Brody yesterday. She must have sensed something wrong. When she failed to reach Sherra by phone to make sure everything was all right she had called the office to check on her. She had spoken with Miles, whom she’d met at a party at Sherra’s. He’d returned to the office after dropping Sherra off and had been working late.

  Now Miles was worried sick. He’d also tried calling Sherra and sending emails, and if she didn’t get in contact with him soon he was calling the cops.

  Great. If Brody wanted to keep what had happened low-key for now, that was in jeopardy.

  The distant sound of running water ended abruptly. What should she do—tell Brody she was disobeying his orders and using her computer on her own?

  Hell, yes, under these circumstances.

  He emerged from the bathroom a couple of minutes later. He must have headed for the bedroom since she soon heard his hurried footsteps in the hallway as he obviously began looking for her. He burst through the kitchen doorway wearing boxers, a towel still in his hand.