Special Ops Rendezvous

by Karen Anders

  “If you think this is easy for me, think again. I lost someone, too. I want these people to pay. I’m not diminishing what happened to your brother. I would never do that, but it’s counterproductive to attack this guy when what we need are answers. If there’s any punching to do, I’ll be doing it.”

  “I want him to pay for murdering my brother.”

  “Don’t you think I want that, too?”

  She stared up into his face and the pain and anger in her eyes softened. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”

  He cupped her face. “I want to get everyone who was involved, not just the guy who made it his job to kill your brother. Do you understand?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, pressing her face into his hands. His heart contracted and he was desperate to keep this woman safe. The light washed over her skin, deepening shadows, highlighting her curves, like the curve of her mouth, the soft fullness of her lower lip, the sweet dipping curve of her upper lip. His tie to her was strong. At first he was all hot and bothered for her. But tonight the need was deeper. She’d been there with him through that firefight and his subsequent meltdown. He wasn’t sure he understood why, but she’d twisted him up inside and he never thought it would feel this good.

  Her mouth was soft, sad when he met it, but she made a low sound in her throat and opened her eyes. Those warm chocolate pools he wanted to bathe in and get all sticky. For a moment their eyes met as their mouths moved together and she wrapped her arms around him and gave herself up to him. He hoped he hadn’t taken the fight out of her. He rather liked what had happened last night.

  And he wasn’t giving up the idea of getting her naked and keeping her that way.

  He broke the kiss and then pressed his mouth against her temple. “Trust me, sweetheart. Trust me in this. He might have been the triggerman, but the person who’s responsible for your brother’s death is the one who gave that order.”

  Everything in him went hard and tight. “I want him. He’s the one who also gave the order to have my mother killed and I think he used my best friend to carry out that order.”

  She nodded once and when he turned to go back inside, Olivia started to follow him. He stopped her with his hand on her arm. “Olivia, it’s going to get ugly in there. You stay here.”

  “But I’m not squeamish about this, Sam.”

  “Spare me you witnessing what I do. It’ll be brutal and I don’t want you to see me like that.”

  She took a breath. “Sam, I wouldn’t judge you or hold it against you. We have to have answers. I understand what you have to do.”

  “I hear all that, but it still doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to see it.”

  “You are such a man...such a man....”

  He smiled and chucked her under the chin. “And you, sweetheart, are all woman.”

  He went through the door, resolved to do what it took to get his answers.

  Before he closed it, he held out his hand. “I’ll take the Taser.”

  She handed him the device and he pulled the door closed. The guy was hurting. Whatever was in those drugs caused pain. Spasms. He would have had no regret shooting up Olivia with that stuff. Sam wasn’t going to hold back.

  Sam picked up one of the doctor’s chairs and sat down in front of the man. The sheen of sweat and the grimace on his face left Sam unmoved as he thought about the blood on his mother’s clothes, her pale face, the horrible, aching feeling in his gut when he thought he might lose her. He thought about Dr. Owens. His care, his patience, his skill. He thought about how he’d helped him through so much, using his skill to alleviate some of his mental anguish. Sam let the guilt of his death wash through him. He would have to live with it for the rest of his life. He didn’t care what Olivia said. Her brother would be breathing right now if he hadn’t become Sam’s therapist. Now his beautiful sister was all tied up into this. No matter how much he wanted her safe, she wasn’t going to go. He would have to work around that.

  Finally he thought about Mike. His ribbing, his pushing, his friendship. The many nights after what happened to them weighed on them so much they’d begun to talk about it. He remembered the many, many firefights where Mike had his back, saved his life without comment, without thanks. It was just an unspoken and unbreakable code.

  And here, even in death, Sam had Mike’s back. He’d been forced to do this, Sam was sure. Sick sure that Mike had been coerced in some way. Now he had to have answers about what they wanted Sam to do. Mike should have been buried with honors.

  “Jesse, I’m going to ask you a question. If I don’t like the answer, there will be some kind of repercussion. As long as you keep answering, you’ll live through this night. If you don’t...”

  “Go to hell, Winston. I’m already a dead man. Do you think after this screwup they’re going to let me live?”

  “Well, then, it’s all about how much you can take, Jesse. You as tough as my buddy Mike?”

  “Yeah, I heard your brother iced him. That must have hurt,” he taunted with a grin.

  Something raw and mean came out of the locked place where Sam kept it. The part of him that had battled and survived months of torture. The part of him that was cold and ruthless.

  He shoved the Taser forward until it connected with the guy’s groin and pressed the button. He jerked and screamed at the unexpected attack.

  It took everything Sam had to pull back.

  The guy leaned his head back and sucked in air around the pain.

  “I bet that smarted.”

  The guy swore at him. Sam showed no emotion at all.

  “I guess you didn’t like that answer. Too bad.”

  He shoved the Taser toward him again and this time held it just a bit longer. This time the guy’s head dropped forward and his chest heaved.

  “Was my kidnapping planned?”

  The guy looked up and his lips tightened as Sam held up the Taser and pressed the button.

  “Yes. It was planned. They wanted both you and Harris. Everyone else was dead meat the moment they hit that ambush.”

  “Who planned it? Who’s in charge of this?”

  “You are so out of your league here. They have resources you can’t even imagine. I don’t know their damn agenda. They didn’t tell me that.” He had the same look in his eyes as when he’d told Sam his real name.

  “What was the purpose of my kidnapping?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just hired muscle.”

  The right cross caught the man on the jaw and snapped his head back, blood blossoming on his cheek.

  “Okay, okay. What does it matter, you can’t stop it and I’m not getting out of this alive. They wanted you and Harris for something specific. Apparently, since Harris tried to kill your mother, that’s what they wanted him for. You? I have no clue.”

  Sam squatted down, his knuckles stinging. He stared into the guys eyes and reluctantly felt he was telling the truth. “Who do you work for?”

  The guy was sweating profusely now and every ten or twenty seconds he would jerk as his muscles spasmed. A faint memory sent chills crawling down Sam’s spine. The white room, the drugs. The pain and the fear. He remembered and he shook his head. He couldn’t lose it now. Or had it been real? Was this the drug they used on him?

  Sam sent another blow against the guy’s face, and when his head snapped back it stayed there for a moment, blood trickling from his mouth.

  He exhaled and sucked in a mouthful of air.

  “The Cartel. They’re called the Cartel,” he mumbled through his swollen lips.

  “What do they want?”

  “I told you. I don’t know!”

  “I think you do.” This time Sam delivered several blows. When he stopped punching, Jesse swore at him.

  “They were right about you,” Jesse said, spitting bloo
d. “You are a dangerous son of a bitch.”

  Sam got into his face. “Answer the question!”

  “The Cartel’s plan is to assassinate several key people who may run for president in the next few years. Like I said, Harris was programmed to kill the former vice president.”

  “I was programmed to kill someone. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “You don’t get it. Yes! That’s what everything was about! Do you really think insurgents kidnapped you? You weren’t in an Afghani prison. You were in a compound specifically designed to look exactly what you expected it to look like. They’re smoke and mirrors, man. They live in shadow and they have some scary dudes working for them. You and that hot babe don’t stand a chance against them.”

  “But I was rescued.” Memory came flooding back as sharp and clear as the man in front of him. “She rescued me and took me to a CIA compound.” He closed his eyes. He’d been tricked. These bastards had kidnapped two U.S. Army Rangers, murdered two others and tortured them so they would believe they were captured by insurgents. And Sam had swallowed it. Everything had seemed so real. He realized that the torture wasn’t just something they had planned to stage. It was real. They tore him and Mike down, broke them. Sam knew that was what they did. He couldn’t remember it, but he felt it in his nightmares.

  “CIA. That wasn’t the effing CIA. They screwed with your head and they’re good at what they do. They snowed you and they snowed you good. You’re a ticking bomb, Winston!”

  With a growl, Sam kicked out and both the man and the chair hit the wall. The chair shattered. Jesse, loose, came up swinging and hit Sam with a hard blow to the jaw, then rammed into him. They crashed into the doctor’s desk, rolled off as they fought for supremacy. The guy was good, and though he was fighting for his life, he was under the influence of the drug and, as a result, weaker. They broke apart and he picked up one of the chair legs. Sam blocked with his forearm as it cracked against his skin.

  He ducked the second wild swing and punched the guy right into the kidney, sending him flying.

  “Sam!” Olivia came through the door and Sam was momentarily distracted. The guy swung the chair leg and hit Sam with a stunning blow to the side of his face. He then bolted out the open door.

  Sam scrambled up off the floor and chased the guy to the front door of the office, his rage making him out of control.

  He caught him and shouted in his face, “Who was I programmed to kill!”

  But the guy was ready and fought Sam off. Rushing frantically out the front door with Sam in hot pursuit, he made it to the road, but as he dashed across, a car struck him so hard he flew into the air. When he landed, he lay still.

  Sam could see from where he was standing that his eyes were open, but Jesse Carter was dead. There was no getting any more answers out of him.

  Sam backed into the shadows, his chest heaving from exertion and his anger that still burned through him like a brand.

  When Olivia came out the door, he grabbed her and pulled her back inside, dragging her to the truck in the back parking lot. He heard the sirens and drove away as the police arrived along with an ambulance.

  For once, Olivia took one look at him and didn’t say a word. She just pulled the seat belt across her lap and settled into the seat.

  Sam was reeling, terror running through him like electricity.

  You’re a ticking bomb, Winston!

  The impact of the guy’s words was like the impact of a bullet tearing through muscle and bone.

  Oh, God.

  Who was he programmed to kill?

  * * *

  Back at the house, Sam sat down on the couch and set his weapon in front of him and stared at it. Olivia hovered, but again she said nothing. Asked no questions.

  He’d been living in denial. He knew he’d been compromised after what happened with Mike. It was hovering around in his head. That had to have been what Dr. Owens found out. That Sam had been tampered with. His mind had been altered. Brainwashed.

  Everyone breaks under torture. He’d been no different, and the feeling of betraying his country washed over him like a huge wave, sending him into a free fall.

  He was a warrior, a damn tough one, but everyone broke.

  Everyone.

  He was so tight. Just barely holding himself together by sheer will. All this time he’d been a walking time bomb.

  For a man who was always in control, it was frightening. The feeling of absolute, utter helplessness transfixed him. The dread from the guy’s words compounding into something cold and heavy, his heart laboring as if it were encased in wet cement.

  Olivia watched him intently

  That guy had been tough. Olivia would give him that. She couldn’t feel sorry that he was dead. He killed her brother and got what he deserved.

  These people, if they got their hands on her, would most likely kill her. She really didn’t doubt that. She knew they had killed her brother, so she had no hesitation about taking the Taser and using it to get all the information out of him that they could.

  She watched Sam. Looking for any signs that he might be close to another episode.

  Close to the edge. It was the only way she could describe him. But there was more than that. A hard male force radiated from him; it was in every movement, in his posture, how he carried his head, the glint of steel in his eyes. Olivia had never felt his strength and size the way she did in this moment.

  His hair dark with sweat, his face set and determined. Olivia stared at him, a strange flutter of awareness slicing through her when she identified the tone of his whole bearing; it was a silent warning that no one, absolutely no one, better challenge him.

  There was violence in him.

  And that made her shudder.

  Not for the sake of the man in the chair when Sam had done what he had to do. That was his life in the Rangers. He did what he had to do. That man had been a killer, a contract killer. Whoever he worked for was somehow holding Sam hostage. She and Sam just didn’t know how.

  In the cab of his truck, the silence had been strained and alienating. As if Sam’s own perception of himself had shifted her own. She wanted to know what had happened, what he had found out, but she didn’t think pushing Sam right now was a good idea. He was hovering on the very edge. She could see it and she didn’t know what to do. A frisson of fear shivered down her spine as she remembered how he had looked at her as if he didn’t know her right before he blacked out. His mouth was set in stern lines, the fading light in the room softening the tautness in his expression. Experiencing a strange little flurry in her chest, she folded her arms across her abdomen, clenching her waist, and just stood there feeling totally ineffectual.

  Could it have been only three days since she’d had her “date” with Sam? She felt as if she’d been walking some kind of emotional tightrope ever since.

  Maybe she should try to get him to talk. Her brother had once told her that keeping things inside was counterproductive to dealing with them.

  The wrenching, shell-shocked look in his eyes broadcast loud and clear that whatever he’d found out, it was bad. Very bad.

  A tight ache settled around her heart.

  She noticed the back of his hand was raw and he had a cut on his temple and one on his arm. She went and got antiseptic and a small bowl of water. Sam didn’t even move when she sat down next to him. When she touched his knuckles, he drew a sharp intake of breath. She dabbed them clean and put on the ointment, then handled the arm wound and the cut on his temple.

  He was so silent. Getting up, she went into the kitchen and dumped bloodied water into the sink, the feeling of being isolated from him making her unsure.

  She took a deep breath and went back out into the living room. Her heart pounding in her chest, she sat down beside him, feeling shaky and afraid. Not of him, but of t
he weight of what he carried.

  Gathering her courage, she tugged at him until he moved enough that she could get her hands on his back muscles. She bit her lip. They were so tight.

  He made a sound between despair and agony, dropping his head down and clasping his hands around the back of his skull. He folded into himself, and Olivia felt her heart break.

  “Oh, Sam.” She swallowed against the tears that threatened and the panic that spiraled, wanting to touch him so bad, unsure if she should.

  Deciding to retreat and give him some space, she rose and headed toward the front door to make sure it was locked. She would give him a little time, and once he’d gotten his feet under him, she’d start asking her questions. She knew this much about Sam. When he was ready, he would talk.

  But she didn’t make it to the door. Sam came up behind her, wrapping one of his arms around her waist, burying his face into the back of her neck, sending spiraling shivers in every direction.

  “Don’t leave me, Olivia. I should let you go, but I can’t....”

  His free hand slid sensually down her arm, his palm against hers as he gripped her hand.

  The instant his fingers slid through hers, she understood, and she closed her eyes against the wild surge of emotion that made her shiver. She turned against him, keeping the close body contact.

  He stared down at her, her wounded warrior, the muscle of his jaw tensing, his expression so rigid he appeared angry.

  Her tone was gentle. “I won’t leave you. I promise. Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head, his eyes bleak. “Not now. I need you, babe.”

  “You have me.” She wrapped her arms around him, trembling at the basic, elemental, raw way he looked at her.

  With a low moan, he folded his head down against her, his temple settling into the hollow of her throat as he clasped her butt and pulled her against him. His coffee-hued stubbled jaw grazing against her collarbone. For several seconds they stood like that. Delving under his T-shirt, needing the skin-to-skin contact, one of her hands went around the thick muscle of his shoulder blade to hook over his collarbone; the other curved over his buzzed head, holding him against her, giving him as much comfort as she could.