Connor (In the Company of Snipers Book 5)

by Irish Winters

  Her internal argument would have worked if, at that precise moment, the tiny little child residing in her body hadn’t decided to do a triple somersault off the high board that Izza was fairly sure now grew inside along with the baby. Wow. How could one little person make one big person’s life so miserable?

  She paused beneath a fluttering quaking aspen, her palm to the tree trunk as she caught her breath. Noon was not that far away. Ugh. Morning sickness, either.

  Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she willed the creeping sensation of nausea away. Mark couldn’t see through her, could he? She’d watched her weight. No one could tell she was over six months along, not with the loose shirt over her wife beaters. So far, so good.

  But was that why he’d insisted she go on ahead of the guys? Did he somehow sense she needed to throw up in private? After all, he was a married man. Libby and he had two small children. Had he recognized the signs and been waiting for Izza to spill and tell?

  Just the thought was enough to encourage an uneasy sensation at the back of her throat. She gulped and forced it down. Think of something else. Think of the Hoh Survival training course. Think of that trip to Hawaii you want to take when this op is done. Think of....

  Z-z-z-r-r-i-i-p-p. The sound of a zipper hit her very attentive and overly sensitive eardrums. Izza peered around the tree trunk to see where that out of place sound might have come from. A man stood there with his back to her, but she’d recognize that physique anywhere. What the hell was Connor Maher doing half-naked in the middle of nowhere? She knew she’d have to face him sooner or later, but here? Now? So soon?

  She took a step toward him, keeping herself hidden behind the branches of her friendly tree. He’d already stripped his shirt and boots off. His belt was undone. Camouflage printed pants hung loose and low off his hips. God, the man was as crazy as ever. And still as sexy. Ripped shoulder muscles led to a strong back that narrowed to a muscular V that lead to—

  She gulped as the sight of that handsome hard body battered down her last line of common sense. Did he ever think about that night? Could he possibly know what it meant to her? Her mouth went dry remembering the intensity of their bodies slamming together. The heat. So much passion.

  He was not gentle, but neither was she. It was the most frightening, glorious, feral sex of a lifetime that left her wanting him all the more. And pregnant. And sick at heart. The fool.

  Was he thinking of stepping into that ice cold waterfall and—

  Izza blushed. Connor stepped out of his jeans and kicked his boxers off next. With a shivering growl, he walked into the thin stream of water sluicing over the gravel ledge from the mountainside above.

  “Br-r-r,” he declared while his hands raked over his wet head.

  The sight of his naked body watered her mouth. Warmth filled her belly and it didn’t have a thing to do with the baby within. This warmth was more sizzle and hunger than offspring related. This was desire for Connor all over again. Wanton with a dash of definite need to feel his hands on her body.

  Her tongue slid over her bottom lip, remembering how his mouth had tasted. And why the hell was she shaking like a leaf? She didn’t want him. Boston was trouble, nothing but pain and suffering, and, oh, my hell, look at that cute butt. Her eyes scrolled over his tanned body, taking in the taut and firm ass she remembered digging her fingernails into.

  The man was one muscle from his bare feet all the way up to his hairline. He should have been a surfer. Tan, sun-streaked blond hair – what was not to love? Connor radiated the easy-going man she knew he was.

  Izza held her post while he proceeded to shower, totally unaware of his audience. He stood there, his back to her and his face tilted upward, his hands busy splashing the thin stream over his shoulders and under his arms. The water skimmed over his hair, off his shoulder blades and down his back. Blond hair darkened to deep gold. What a picture.

  Izza couldn’t breathe. He looked so—hot. Not so much the body builder type as—just damned good. Slim. Athletic. Narrow at the waist, but built. But—wow.

  She couldn’t stop absorbing every detail, the way he rolled his neck to let the water spill over his chest and then his back; the way he scrubbed his hair with both hands and shook the chilly water away from his face. But when he stepped out from under the waterfall and turned her way....

  Izza took another involuntary step in his direction. All of her feminine radar had responded in sync with him. The chilly water hadn’t kept him down. Not one bit. Six pack abs dropped down into the perfect trail of water-darkened hair that only grew darker. She licked her lips.

  Maybe there was still hope. Maybe she needed to reconsider. Maybe—

  “Connor?” A raucous female voice intruded from the trail below.

  “Over here,” he called as he picked up his boxers and jeans.

  Izza stepped back behind her tree before a blond and tanned woman appeared on the scene. Who the hell is she?

  “Hey, Cassidy,” he answered the moment he saw her, pulling his shirt over his head as he finished dressing. At least he’d put his pants on quickly.

  Izza rolled an annoying tweak out of her neck. Cassidy, huh. I hate you already.

  “Sorry about this morning,” this Cassidy person said as she walked easily up to Connor. “Randy gets his nose bent out of joint pretty fast these days.”

  He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he reached for her with a huge boyish grin on his face and pulled her into his still damp shirt and very wide chest. The jerk.

  She smoothed her hands over his biceps like this wasn’t the first time they’d touched each other. “What were you doing? Taking a shower? Out here?”

  Who the hell is Randy?

  Connor grinned down at Cassidy, and Izza held her breath. The light in those blue eyes. That smile. He still had irrepressible charm going for him, but he wasn’t going to kiss this woman, was he?

  “I’m glad you’re safe.” He smoothed an adoring hand over the side of Cassidy’s face, and Izza wanted to puke. “You need to get word to your boss. The cartel is making a move on the RVs.”

  Cassidy wrapped her hands around his neck, clutching him like some hooker standing under a street lamp. She had to. She was just as short as Izza. Only—

  “I’ll tell him what you said, but he won’t listen to me.” Cassidy lifted up to her tiptoes even in her hiking boots.

  Izza’s hand fisted. Tiptoes? Really? Connor used to lean down to kiss her.

  He eased forward, his mouth definitely poised to plant one on her. Thankfully, a familiar male voice barked from the trail below. “Connor? You around here somewhere?” Roy called.

  Izza ducked deeper into the shade of the quakies.

  Chagrin shifted across Connor’s face as he pulled back from Cassidy’s upturned lips. “Damn. He’s got the lousiest timing of anyone I know.”

  Izza turned her face to the shadows and became one with the tree. She gripped the trunk with both hands, trembling so hard. The whole gang was marching by with their backs stacked high with supplies. Rory carried an ice chest in his hands on top of his over-burdened backpack. No way was she going to get caught spying.

  “Look who’s here?” Morgan teased. “Connor’s got a new girlfriend. Why am I not surprised?”

  Because you’re stupid, Book Boy.

  Connor chuckled. Roy chuckled. Hell, even good-natured Mark chuckled. Not Izza.

  She waited until everyone passed by before she fell out and followed at a safe distance. Gulping back the bile climbing up her throat, she choked, only this wretched sensation had nothing to do with her biologically scheduled morning sickness.

  It felt more like heartbreak. Again.

  Six

  “How many?” Roy asked.

  “Two, maybe as many as three dozen,” Connor replied easily.

  With Cassidy safe and looking as good as she was, the day that had started out so bleakly had a family campout kind of a feeling to it now. She proved to be the proverbial good sport as she pitche
d in and passed bottled waters from her own backpack to the thirsty men of The TEAM. It didn’t hurt that he’d just proved his worth in aces. His chest swelled with a touch of pride. His head too, but so be it. It never hurt to look good in front of a lady, especially this one.

  “Why’d you go down there alone?” Mark asked.

  “Because we needed eyes and ears inside the new camp, and I figured the sooner the better,” Connor answered as he took a hit off his bottle of water, trying to not sound like the braggart he felt like. “We may have trouble sooner than we thought. Several tour buses pulled into the Beacon Point picnic area. Civilians could pose a problem for the cartel considering what we saw last night.”

  “What’s that?” Mark waited expectantly.

  “Enough men to harvest the crop. And armed guards at all the grow-sites I passed.” He turned to the pretty lady standing nearby and winked. “You need to call your boss. There’s at least one cartel guard on the prowl. I’m pretty sure Felipe was headed your way.”

  She nodded, pulled her own sat phone off her belt hook and stepped away to make the call.

  “Alex told us to expect trouble,” Morgan said.

  “You accomplish what you set out to do in that camp?” Rory Dennison asked, his dark blue eyes full of mischief. He and Connor were forever locked in friendly battle with each other, both vying for longest shot, tightest pattern, and quickest draw. Range time might end in a tie, but Connor knew hands down he held the record for longest shot. Only one other person had ever bested him, but that happened a long time ago. She didn’t matter anymore.

  “What do you think?” Connor couldn’t resist bragging to his best competitor. “I not only planted the bug that is at this very moment ratting on Ramirez Central, but I popped a guard named Carlos smack in the chops. He went down like a ton of bricks. You should’ve seen it. He never knew what hit him.”

  “Sounds like you took good care of us.” Mark clapped him on the back.

  Connor turned, feeling pleased with himself. Mark was a bear of a man, as gentle and kind as a guy could be. Rory was much the same. New to The TEAM by five months, he’d been hired shortly after Connor. Only one junior agent was a better marksman, and that would be Connor. The friendly competition between them added to an already great work environment.

  Cassidy had returned to his side, still arguing with Randy. She winked coyly up at him from her sat phone. There was nothing better than being surrounded by good buddies and a sexy woman. He grinned. A tough op could not get much sweeter. “Oh, yeah. One more thing—”

  Mark stepped aside. Connor came face to face with that other agent from the Seattle office. He stopped dead in his tracks. His ego hit the dirt right between his boots. All that good team-spirit feeling evaporated. When did Alex pick her up? Why?

  Crap.

  Mentally paralyzed, he couldn’t remember what he’d been bragging about. For some unexplainable reason, his feet sidestepped away from Cassidy. “Izza,” he rasped, his throat suddenly as dry as grit.

  “Nice to see you too, Boston,” she snapped, the light in her eyes as dark and deadly as ever.

  He groaned, raking a quick hand through his hair while he tried to swallow. Why did it have to be Izza?

  “What else is going on down there?” Roy asked.

  “Ahh, we’ve got, ahh....” Connor jerked his thumb toward the west, his usual succinct reporting skills gone the way of the wind. “New camp. I... I....”

  “You still can’t talk worth a damn, can you?” Izza’s sweetly sarcastic voice grated over his already tenderized ego. She looked pale, but good in a weird, mean kind of a way. A little on the gaunt side, maybe. Still wearing her hair pulled back into her usual no nonsense ponytail. Still wearing her signature camouflage shirt over the customary two tank tops.

  Those once pretty brown eyes seemed a little sunken, or maybe it was all that nasty attitude pouring out of her mouth. “Spit it out, Boston. Your boss asked you a question. What else is going on? Did you forget?”

  Connor blinked like a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler rig hauling triples on an icy eight-percent downhill grade. There was no escape, only duck, roll, and pray like hell. Roy’s brows lifted. Mark and Rory’s did, too. They’d caught onto the not so amusing undercurrent to the confusing, one-sided conversation. He forced his mind back to his report, but his tongue had turned to parchment and his brain to mush. “The cartel’s setting up another camp at the mouth of the canyon.”

  “My, my. Aren’t you the efficient one?” Izza needled him as only she knew how to do. “Always gotta be the hero, don’t you?”

  Connor focused on his senior agent’s bemused face, trying hard to remember what he’d told Roy and what he hadn’t. Hero, nothing. Right now he didn’t know Jack.

  “What’d you do, Boston? Draw them a map so they could join us for lunch? Huh?” Izza wouldn’t let it go. She dropped her gear bag to the ground at her feet. “What’s the matter? Cartel got your tongue?”

  Connor took a half step back. Challenge sparked to life in her eyes. Was she calling him out? He wouldn’t put it past her.

  “I overheard something,” he said simply, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall what.

  “What else is new?” Izza never had a problem speaking up or being confrontational. She took one step closer. He took one step back. Cassidy was out there on the hillside somewhere watching. Hell, everyone was watching, and he was making a fool of himself for all to see.

  “Connor.” Roy jerked his head toward the deer path headed downhill. “Sitrep. Now.”

  Connor put his head down and followed, glad to be doing something besides looking like an idiot. When they were out of earshot, Roy asked again. “What’s the matter, son? What kind of problem?”

  “I planted a bug.” Connor could suddenly speak. The words blurted out of him in a rush. “It’s in the rear of their tent, but I was seen. I was in a hurry because of something I overheard. I had to suppress one of their men. A guy named Carlos. I didn’t kill him, though. Just knocked him out. He didn’t see me. Much.”

  “You already told me that,” Roy said, his hand on Connor’s shoulder and peering deeply into his face. “What else did you overhear?”

  Connor closed his eyes, forcing his mind to focus on the op, not the female Tasmanian devil in camp. “Three guards arguing. Sounded like they were talking about us.” He took a deep breath to clear his head.

  Izza. Why did it have to be Izza? Why now? Why here?

  “What the hell is going on with you? You’re repeating yourself,” Roy muttered.

  Connor grimaced, his brain still pinging from Izza to Cassidy and overseas to another day seared forever into his memory. Roy and the operation were caught in the middle somewhere.

  “You should’ve waited for back-up, but I’m glad you took care of business. Anything else going on I should know about?”

  Crap, yes. I just can’t think right now. Connor brushed a hand over his still wet head, aggravated that the sight of Izza rattled him like it had. All his analytical skills were gone. His heart too. Damn. Why did it have to be her?

  “I found a place where we could grab a shower if we don’t mind cold water,” he offered weakly, sticking his thumb in the direction of the waterfall. It wasn’t important news, but it was something he hadn’t said yet.

  Dark brown eyes drilled into blue. “Connor. We’ve worked together the last six months. You can tell me anything.”

  Connor knew what Roy was probing for. He returned his steady gaze. “Izza and I have a history, that’s all. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  Roy waited, his hand to Connor’s shoulder like he had all the time in the world.

  “And she hates me.” There. It was out in the open, at least as much as he intended to share.

  Roy studied him a second longer, but Connor looked away. No way was he answering the unasked why to that confession.

  “Guess I just thought you’d be a little more excited to see
her since you both served in Fallujah together.” Roy nodded back to camp and the woman in question.

  Connor bit his lip. What happened in Fallujah was not the problem.

  “Okay. Never mind. I get it. I’ve certainly got enough women who hate me. Let’s keep this operation professional. You two work your differences out on your own time, okay?”

  “Not a problem.” Telling Roy seemed to help. His brain kicked back into gear. “Oh, yeah. Almost forgot. Ramirez is on his way to the main camp. The crop has to be ready to go by the time he arrives tonight.”

  Roy’s eyes widened. “Good to know.”

  Connor licked his dry lips. Yeah. That last tidbit was damned good to know. Wished he’d thought of it sooner.

  He followed Roy back to their slap-hazard camp on the side of the mountain. Mark and Morgan were busy organizing supplies, bedrolls and foodstuffs. Rory had a fire pit built of odd shaped stones. He’d located two boulders, which he’d rolled into place for primitive seats.

  Izza had her back to Connor, but worse, Cassidy had left without giving him the chance to explain. He needed to call her. A shudder rolled over his shoulders.

  Why, oh, why the hell did it have to be Izza?

  “Is Mark there with his team yet?” Alex asked.

  “Here, Boss.” Mark spoke up. Their ragtag camp seemed an unlikely setting for a teleconference, but that was Alex for you. Connor had his laptop set up so everyone could participate.

  “Hey, Alex,” Izza piped up with a wave of her hand. He needed to know she was there, ready to rock and roll. A solid team meant team members who weren’t afraid to speak up to their boss. Like her.

  “I talked with Tom Baxter,” Alex said. “He’s getting mixed signals from the DEA. They’re not happy that you guys are there and they don’t want the Utah National Guard involved. Not yet anyway.”