Connor (In the Company of Snipers Book 5)

by Irish Winters

  All of her training told her she could still make him pay. She hadn’t used her hard head as a battering ram into his already broken nose. She hadn’t bitten him yet.

  “Let me go,” she pleaded.

  “Never,” he murmured deep and low.

  The need to hurt him subsided with that single word. The surety of it reverberated deep and low into the deepest black of her soul. Izza heard Connor. His strength encased her. Even his breathing sounded strong and sure. Lifting her easily off her feet, he settled onto their granite bolder with her on his lap. She twisted sideways in his arms, half facing him, half wanting to bolt away. The bitter memory came back with a vengeance.

  “I just want to see him again,” she sobbed, her arms twisted in front of her. “I want him to laugh at me. Just once more. He… he was all I had. We used to hide in the basement. Dad never came down those stairs when he was drunk. He thought he’d fall and break his neck. It was the only place we were safe.”

  “You had a damned hard childhood, Izza,” Connor said, gently massaging the tight knot between her shoulder blades.

  “No, I didn’t.” Anguish poured out of her. “I had Jamie. He was always there for me, but now he’s gone. Aww, Connor, I just want him back.”

  “I know it’s tough.” He smoothed a strand of hair off her sweaty face as the outburst waned.

  Izza sobbed. “No one’s left. They’re all gone.”

  “No,” he said softly, his hands still wrapped around her shoulders. “Not everyone.”

  She turned to face him. Connor blinked to hide his emotions, but she saw the tears—and the love. Her world had turned upside down. She cupped his chin in her palms. “Please don’t cry. I’ve been so mean to you. God, I’m so sorry. I don’t hate you. I never did.”

  He wiped his face and swallowed hard. “I know that, Izza, but you’ve got to stop hitting me. You pack a helluva wallop for a little gal.”

  “Connor. I....” She smoothed her thumbs over his whiskered cheeks. “I don’t even know why I do it. I just get so mad.”

  He leaned his forehead to hers. “You hit me because you need someone to hurt as bad as you do. I get it, but believe me, Izza. I do hurt as bad as you. Maybe worse. Jamie was my best friend. You lost your brother that day, but I lost both of you.”

  She burrowed into his chest. “But you’ve never stopped loving me.”

  “You’re the meanest woman I know, but you’re right. I do love you.” He tipped her face up to his again.

  Her response came with tears and sobs, “And I love you.”

  “Izza?” he asked hoarsely. “May I please kiss my baby girl’s mother?

  Her heart leapt into her throat. Connor could not have asked a more perfect question. A different kind of warmth flooded her heart, and she knew she had a lifetime of penance ahead of her. It had to begin today. Now.

  “I meant what I said. I do love you.” With that soft pronouncement she pulled her tank top up and over her head, and wriggled out of her cargo pants, her eyes fastened to his.

  Connor about dropped his teeth, he looked so flustered and surprised. He shook his head. “No, Izza. Not here. You don’t want to—”

  “Yes. I do.” Wearing nothing but her underwear, she straddled his thighs and prepared to prove herself, big belly and all. “I’m tired of fighting with you. I loved you then. I love you now. I need you to know. Please forgive me. Let me show you.”

  “I already know.” His breath hitched as he took in the sight of her. Amidst the desire, sadness shadowed his expression. “My God. You’re so thin.”

  She shrugged, needing him to not look so stricken. “It’s all them bunnies you keep catching.”

  “We need a break,” he muttered even as his hands smoothed over her shoulders and headed lower. The deep rumble in his voice struck a chord in her belly.

  She leaned in for a kiss. “I want you, Connor.”

  He didn’t have to be asked twice. The only problem was his gunshot wound. And his nose. And, oh yeah, she was definitely with child. But the more Connor kissed Izza, the less he worried. Izza’s mouth was a taste of heaven. He deepened the kiss, savoring every stroke of her tongue, every nibble and sigh. That same ferocious hunger he’d only known once before leapt to life. Now he knew why and how that night of passion had happened. There was no choice. He had to have her in his life, all of her, then as much as now.

  With a grunt, he clutched two handfuls of her backside and stood. His gut didn’t complain as much as he expected, maybe because another body part spoke up loud and clear. He meant to comply.

  A hint of worry deepened her brown eyes. “Are you sure you can carry me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with conviction. The best mission of his life lay ahead. He would deliver.

  Placing her center on the makeshift mattress of other people’s cast off clothing, she never looked more stunning. The moment jelled. There she sat with her knees to her chest and her arms circling her knees, half-naked and beguiling as hell. No hotshot celebrity or model could compare. Rags or not, she was the rarest pearl, the treasure he’d been looking for.

  “I’ll try to go slow,” he said, “but it’s been over six months and I—”

  “Wait. What? You haven’t been with anyone since me? Really? Not even—her?”

  He had to grin. She looked so happily shocked.

  “No, ma’am,” he declared with honor. “I won’t say I haven’t been looking. I just have a knack for picking the wrong women.”

  “But you and that Dancer woman looked so—together.”

  “But we’re not,” he said. “I might need to explain things to her one of these days. Maybe not, but Izza. You were my first, and you’re going to be my last.”

  “But what about—? You mean you never—?” Suddenly shy, she’d loosened her ponytail and tossed her head. “But you’re so handsome. I’ve heard about your reputation in the East Coast office. All the ladies think you’re a stud. I find it really hard to believe women aren’t falling all over you.”

  “Ha,” he said with a cheesy grin. “People like to talk. What about you, gorgeous? How many guys am I going to have to fight off back in Seattle?”

  She snorted. “I’m too mean. Guys are scared of me.” Scintillating curls rolled off her shoulders. He forgot to breathe. She held her hand up for him to accept her offer. He doffed his clothes and joined her. And very gently, she pressed him to his back.

  “Besides, you’re my only, too,” she murmured.

  And the rest of the world slipped away.

  The tenderest assault began the second her hands and lips roamed over his battered body. He closed his eyes and soaked it all in. She knew which areas to avoid and which to encourage, and it took so little encouragement. Unlike the last time, they had all the time in the world now. He explored her curves with his fingers and tongue. But each touch and taste brought a need for more. Exploring and fondling transformed into ardor that couldn’t wait. Izza groaned against him when he clenched her backside again.

  “Come here,” he breathed, and that’s all she needed to hear. She gave him everything. Passion. Energy. And the gentlest love.

  With her still panting above him, he took charge. Rolling Izza to her back, he stared down into the dreamiest eyes. An aura of pure contentment glowed around her. This wasn’t just the physical act they were doing. They were pouring love into each other, joining energy and lives, etching memories and bonds that would stand a lifetime. And beyond.

  He sank into her with their eyes locked on each other. There was no world beyond the one they’d just created, only deep browns that drew him into their eternal depths.

  “I’ve always loved you, Isabella Ramos,” he said reverently as he acknowledged what he’d been searching for in all those other dalliances.

  The heat in her eyes reached all the way through him. In a flash, Connor was on fire. It swept up from the backs of his legs and into his groin. Her lovely body clenched and he poured all that he was into her. Agai
n. And again.

  He collapsed into her arms with one prayer on his lips. “Izza. My love.”

  What the hell else could go wrong?

  Alex was in his rental car on his way to the Utah State Capitol. On top of everything else, Tom wanted him to add his two cents worth to a meeting with the press, not Alex’s favorite people on a good day. Mother and Ember were in the process of running all of Mark’s video intel through their facial recognition program. That was the only thing that made sense. Ramirez had seen something in those pictures from his own hacienda that panicked him. Apparently, it panicked someone else too, enough to murder him. The County jail was in lockdown, no one in and no one out until Governor Baxter knew exactly who’d done it and how.

  Turning left on State Street, Alex had to admit the view of the state’s capital was breathtaking with the Wasatch Mountains for a backdrop. The smell of smoke still tinged the air, but all the fires had made for outstanding sunrises and sunsets over the past couple of days.

  His cell phone vibrated. Alex answered it expecting Mother or Ember. He got Mark.

  “Boss, got a few developments you need to know.”

  “Hope it’s good news,” Alex growled.

  “Are you still in Utah?”

  “Yes. Ramirez is dead. Poisoned at the jail.” Alex was pissed.

  “Shit,” Mark cussed. “Then it’s not him. I was going to tell you to grill that bastard for more information, but now—”

  “Why? What’s going on?” Alex pulled into the closest vacant parking stall and killed his engine.

  “A convoy of trucks showed up yesterday at the Ramirez hacienda. Looked like an army. At first, we thought it was a peaceful takeover, but when one of the trucks left in the middle of the night, we followed. Ramirez also owned a gravel pit, Boss. The truck was carrying bodies.”

  “Who’s dead?”

  Mark huffed over the phone. “That’s the thing. Most of the bodies are buried under a ton of gravel. Only one was close enough to the surface. I just sent at picture of it to Mother for positive identification, but we think it was Ramirez’s housekeeper. And we found the little girl’s dog, too.”

  Alex checked his watch. Mark and his team must have been digging for bodies during the night to have this kind of information so early in the morning. He gulped at the unsettling thought before he asked, “What dog?”

  “His daughter, Sophia’s,” Mark answered somberly. “Fuzzy little mutt. It looks like whoever’s taken over the cartel is executing everyone and everything loyal to Miguel Ramirez.”

  “Stop digging, Mark,” Alex said somberly. “You may be right. This whole thing just keeps getting better and better.” A stab of fear jolted him. “Where are his daughters? Have you seen them yet today?”

  “Yes. They’re still inside the hacienda. You don’t think they’re in danger do you? Ramirez’s wife seems to come and go as she pleases.”

  Alex shoved his hand through his hair, frustrated at what he was about to order. “You need to secure those two girls.”

  The dead silence on the other end of the phone was not unexpected.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you,” Mark said quietly. “Guess I don’t understand what you’re telling me to do, though. You want me to kidnap two little girls?”

  “Yes.” Even as he gave the order, Alex knew what he was asking was over and above his four man team’s capability.

  “And do what with them?” Mark’s tone was incredulous.

  “Not sure, but if I’m right, they’re in mortal danger.”

  “Why? What do you think is going on?” Mark’s question belied his disbelief. “I mean we didn’t come down here to save the world, Boss. This takeover stinks of cartel business to me and as long as it’s in Mexico—”

  “As long as it’s happening in Mexico, it will keep happening up here. Someone from that hacienda just ordered a hit on a very powerful cartel boss locked inside a secure United States jail. Whoever that person is, they may also know where Connor and Izza are. They’re very much in control of what’s happening here in Utah. We need to take this cartel down once and for all.”

  Weariness pegged Mark’s voice. “Boss, I’ve got one trained sniper with me, and two DEA agents. I only came here to bust Ramirez. Now you’re telling me to steal not one, but two little girls?”

  “Not steal. Rescue. Ramirez was about to turn state’s evidence when they got to him. He knew he was going to die. The only thing he asked was for me to save his daughters. Can you do it or not?” Alex waited through the silence on the other end. He knew what his junior agent was going through. Want to or not, Mark was mentally working a strategy, weighing risks, scenarios, and back up plans against the talents and skill of his team. Two small little girls would be difficult to handle. They’d have to be removed from the hacienda at the same time and without a sound. That alone would prove daunting.

  Alex went through the same mental exercise. Mark and his team were on the ground and capable, but this was Mexico they were talking about executing a covert operation. The most proper course of action would be to go through the State Department. Maybe the DEA too, since they were already somewhat involved.

  But Alex knew better. All those very proper channels spent more time covering their asses than getting the job done. By the time they stepped up to the plate, two little fatherless girls would be in that same gravel pit with their dog.

  “I’m coming down,” he decided. “I can be there by—”

  “No, Boss,” Mark ground out. “You’re too late. If we’re right, those girls won’t live the day.”

  “Exactly,” Alex muttered. “What are you thinking?”

  That Mark didn’t respond quickly verified the serious nature of this additional effort. At last, he said, “I’m thinking if we get caught, we stand to create one helluva firestorm for U.S. and Mexican relations.”

  “True.” Alex let his agent work it out. Covert ops always carried the risk of offending friend or foe alike, but when it came to intentionally putting his team’s lives on the line, Mark had to be the one to make the call.

  “I’ve got Rory and the others watching the Ramirez estate right now,” he muttered. “He and I have both been inside. God, it’s huge. Two little girls. Might need to dope them to keep them quiet. Military-type guards all over the place. No dogs. The housekeeper’s dead. Damn. Two little girls.”

  Alex listened while Mark went through a mental list. He did notice Mark’s focus, though. Two little girls.

  “Shit, Boss. We can do it. I’ll tell my team.”

  Alex blew out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “How are they?”

  “They’re good troops,” Mark answered. “Damned glad they’re down here with me.”

  “You mentioned Ramirez’s wife came and went as she pleased. Does she take the girls with her when she goes out?”

  “Not that I’ve seen, but she’s got servants. At least, she used to. I’m not sure who’s left inside. Why?”

  “Watch her,” Alex said. “She may be the key we’re looking for.”

  “Will do, Boss.” Mark sighed as he hung up.

  Alex did as well. He had the nuisance of a press conference to endure while his men were putting their lives on the line on foreign soil. The familiar throb of his daily migraine ramped up. There were days when he wondered why the hell he did what he did, but not this day. Mark had said it well. It all came down to those two little girls.

  Twenty-One

  “So where do you think we are?” Connor peered into the east, still thinking that might be their best direction to start hiking. Now that he was feeling better, he wanted to get back to civilization. Izza needed proper care and so did the baby. He could stand a little medical attention himself.

  “I think we’re in, umm, Utah?” she teased, crouched busily at the campfire turning the latest rabbit on its spit.

  They’d worked out a trade. He’d catch and skin the rabbits or maybe a rattlesnake if
he could find one, and she’d grill them. She’d become quite the domestic little woman lately, filled with the compulsion to clean and organize their very rustic hole in the wall camp. It seemed she couldn’t gather enough sagebrush for the fire or enough rocks to keep the pesky Boomerang at bay. She called it the nesting syndrome. He called it good.

  Connor pulled Izza to her feet, his arms around her again and his hands forever on her wonderfully rounded belly. “You might be right, smart ass,” he muttered playfully.

  She pushed her butt into him. They didn’t fight anymore. The passion they felt for each other was finally focused in the right direction. She’d even retrieved the locket and wore it around her neck, another sign of her acceptance that Jamie was gone.

  With his arms full of Izza, Connor stared to the east, calculating everything he could remember from his computer searches on Utah, if that’s where they were. While he’d checked on the peculiar liquor laws and religion of the state, he’d also studied the enormous areas owned by the Bureau of Land Management. More than fifty percent of the state belonged to BLM, a lot of it closed to mining and oil exploration. Most was still open to grazing, sheep or cattle, but it was dry, arid, and unforgiving as all get out. Like Nevada. Arizona. Texas for that matter. And, oh yes, Mexico. Bingo. In other words, he and Izza could be just about anywhere.

  “I’ve been to Arizona before, and Moab, too.” Izza pulled his arms tighter around her. “There’s a lot of good rock climbing and red sandstone in that part of the state, so I’m pretty sure we’re not there.”

  “That’s helpful. At least we know where we’re not. Like we’re not in Alexandria. We’re not in Seattle. And now we know we’re not in Moab, Utah, either.”

  She gave him a sharp nudge with her elbow. “Where do you think we are if you’re so smart?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think the cartel would have driven too far just to dump a couple half-dead bodies in the desert to die. They could’ve killed us at the RV in that case. No, they wanted us isolated for a reason, but close-by. Utah makes the most sense. Just the fact that they left two canteens scares the hell out of me. They meant for us to survive. We can’t stay here much longer. They’re going to come back. East looks like our best shot.”