That depiction rarely was used in describing Honey Lynch, she realized. Suddenly she felt claustrophobic, a little panicked and a lot guilty. Honey patted Heather’s head and returned to wait for Robert by the enclosed fire on the deck. She stacked up their paper plates and threw them in the fire, closed the box of graham crackers and poured some water on the fire.
“Thanks for your help.” She barely smiled and made no eye contact as Robert softly closed the screen door. “Your call, is there a problem? You seem a little upset.”
Honey dusted some crumbs from her hands and moved toward the steps. “No. Just a guy I know.”
“Boyfriend?” Robert asked with some interest.
“Not anymore.”
Lights faded in the Scott cabin two hours later as Honey waited in the cover of darkness. Another beautiful night, Honey thought as her eyes searched the heavens splashed with starlight. A gentle breeze initiated her tug on the hood of a sweatshirt she’d slipped on after leaving the Scott family. She could smell the smoldering fire where she’d made chocolate s’mores with the kids a few hours earlier. Their laughter still raced in her head. But nothing haunted Honey more than Heather’s words: “I want to be like you cuz you’re nice.” She smirked at that comparison. Robert appeared to be unaffected by her charms. That definitely was a first. Maybe he really did love that plain-Jane-of-a-wife; why else would he not take the hint? There existed the possibility he just didn’t find her attractive. Other happily married men had strayed to her from time to time. They paid dearly for that mistake. No matter. It would soon be over. Honey took out her weapon holstered at her waist. She moved toward the cabin. Orders were orders. Playing both sides against the middle was starting to take a toll on her. Maybe this would be the last time.
Mansur frowned at the Haskins twins sleeping on the floor. Their gags had been removed but their hands remained bound with flex ties. He’d fixed a simple meal of tomato soup earlier in the evening, pouring it into chipped Fiestaware cups. The boys cautiously drank the liquid, always conscience of what Mansur did next. His bulky form seem to lumber from one simple task to another as night fell around the three room structure that was more of a shack than a cabin. The windows were open to let the night breezes cool the musty smelling room. A camping stove hissed as Mansur brewed some coffee. His thick fingers looked awkward handling the utensils needed to make soup and coffee. His curly hair needed washing and his beard trimmed, but there had been too much to do the last few days to worry about personal hygiene.
Honey had managed to take care of herself, often complaining that Mansur smelled like a pig and why didn’t he take more after his brother. Mansur ignored her, knowing his appearance both irritated and repulsed her sensibilities. It had been the only way to tolerate her overbearing insults and provocative body language. Moody and unpredictable were not qualities he liked in a woman, but confidence and beauty were and Honey Lynch possessed more than her fair share of all those characteristics. He hated and admired her. Longing to strangle her very tan neck and caress it passionately kept Mansur a little off balance. It was better to keep his mouth shut and follow orders than to ponder the possibilities with the volatile assassin.
He lumbered to the window when the sound of gravel crushing beneath tires reached his ears. The headlights of Honey’s truck swung in off the road and stopped at the edge of the small porch. Moving away to the stove he stopped long enough to rap on the bedroom door with his knuckles. Jamaal timidly joined him waiting for Honey to enter the cabin. He looked to Mansur for some kind of signal, a message, anything that would let him know everything was okay with the world again. Mansur just shrugged and smirked, knowing Jamaal was terrified of Honey and dreaded this encounter.
“I thought I smelled pig grease,” Honey said casually, knowing the reference insulted his Muslim upbringing. She held a blood splattered ranger shirt and hoody in her hand which she tossed on a nearby wooden chair. Her purple camisole, tight and damp, left little to the imagination. Mansur diverted his eyes when Honey started to stretch but Jamaal couldn’t tear his eyes away from her breasts that showed through the flimsy garment. When she’d finished, Honey let her hands fall to her hips. Their eyes locked at that moment and Jamaal dropped his head and slithered away to sit at the unsteady table. “Creep!” she fumed as the bedroom door swung open and a self-assured Essid walked into the room. His clothing, jeans and a red polo shirt made him look more like a golf pro than a Libyan terrorist. He devoured Honey with his eyes, letting them linger on his favorite parts. Frozen in his gaze, Honey waited for the light skinned Libyan to speak.
Essid spied the blood splattered clothing on the chair then extended his hand. Honey removed her weapon from its holster and handed to him. Sniffing carefully, Essid caught the scent of gunpowder. Smiling, he checked the chamber and decided four rounds had been fired. He walked to the stone fireplace and laid the gun on the mantle before turning to face the still frozen Honey. Opening his arms he continued to smile at his enchanting assassin.
“I have missed you,” he said nodding to her.
Without a moment’s hesitation Honey ran to Essid and jumped into his arms, circling his hips with her legs. She found his mouth, kissing him passionately. As he began to pull away, Honey sunk her teeth gently into his bottom lip and pulled as her own smile spread across her face. “Send them away,” she moaned into his ear as her feet touched the floor. “Now!”
Essid motioned toward the door with his eyes making Mansur and Jamaal quickly leave. He looked at the boys curled up on the floor and knew with the drugs he’d given them they would not hear anything from the bedroom.
“Still no answer,” Tessa sighed as she handed Chase the phone he’d dialed for her. “They must not be getting a signal. I wonder what they’re doing.” Tessa verbalized her thoughts out loud. Chase continued to drive silently, keeping an eye on his rear view mirror. She turned to look at the two men in the backseat; Mr. Crawley who looked much better today, and Zoric who also kept a cautious eye on the surroundings. When Zoric shifted his eyes suddenly to meet Tessa’s, he narrowed them and smiled, almost impishly like he knew a secret. Her sudden turn to face the front drew a small chuckle from the backseat. He thinks I slept with Chase! The truth of the matter, she actually had slept with Chase Hunter. Tessa started pulling her hair up into a ponytail as memories of the night before came flooding back.
Exiting the bathroom, Tessa had found Chase propped on the bed again grumbling about how the Cardinals had beaten his team. “Well they are the first place team in their division,” Tessa smirked with a shrug. “And they’ve beaten the Giants the last three times at home. What’d you expect? They choked, just like always.”
Chase pushed a button on the remote to turn the television off. “You’re a baseball fan?”
“Only if it involves the Cardinals. My dad took me to a few games when we visited my Aunt Marie in St. Louis.”
Chase boldly eyed her standing there in front of him, dressed in a pair of cut off pajamas and a long sleeve tee shirt that wasn’t really meant to be slept in. She’d made sure all the important parts were covered and started to fidget under his appreciative gaze. Her lazy blonde curls damp from the shower and her face scrubbed clean, gave her a youthful appearance. The scent of soap clung to the air as the remaining steam escaped the bathroom.
“I’m tired. Can we go to bed now?” As soon as the words had spilled from her mouth, a blush bloomed on her face. “I mean…” the stutter forced her to move to the other side of the bed.
Chase reached over as if to turn out the light. “I thought you’d never ask,” he grinned mischievously, knowing that Tessa Scott was so mortified that she’d probably stutter the rest of her life.
“No! I meant…”
Chase paused before darkening the room. “Relax, Tessa.” Again that smile: “I know what you meant. Which side do you want?”
“Side? Side!” she said nervously. “You don’t honestly think I’m going to sleep in the same bed with you
?”
He jumped off the bed and went to the closet, pulling out another blanket and pillow before throwing it at Tessa. “Suit yourself. I paid for the room so I’m sleeping on the bed,” he said off handedly as he flopped back onto the bed.
The lights went out. “Will you be reimbursed?”
“Probably,” came a yawn response.
“Then as a taxpayer, I also paid for the room.” No comment. “Fine!” Tessa pulled up the faded wingback chair and wiggled into place, propping her feet on the bed.
Two hours passed and Tessa still couldn’t fall asleep. She tried to curl to the side, scrunch down, take her legs down and lean back, but nothing worked. Chase hadn’t moved after conquering the bed and a soft snore started soon after. But around midnight, Chase began to toss and turn, and then seemed to be agitated, mumbling something that Tessa didn’t really care to understand. Obviously a man like the captain would have nightmares from time to time. Serves him right, she thought without sympathy.
Quietly she tip toed into the bathroom to get a drink when she heard Chase start to speak. He called out a woman’s name. Christina. Tessa stood in the doorway of the bathroom and watched Chase become more restless, rolling from side to side, yelling for Christina to be careful, Christina watch out, Christina don’t do it, until his voice grew louder and more troubled. Tessa gingerly came to the side of the bed where Chase had rolled. Even in the ribbons of light that came through the cracked curtain, Tessa could see that perspiration had formed on Chase’s forehead.
When the words “My God! No!” came out in a near scream, Tessa reached over and gently touched Chase on his shoulder.
“Captain Hunter?” she whispered. “Captain Hunter,” she repeated as her hand firmly shook his shoulder. “You’re having a…”
In a split second Chase grabbed Tessa, throwing her on her back, next to him. Before she could scream, Chase was on top on her with one large hand wrapped around her throat, murder in his wild brown eyes. She tried to buck him off, knowing he might still be asleep. When she landed a fist on his face, Chase blinked, releasing his grip.
“Chase!” she cried. “It’s me! Tessa! You’re having a bad dream.”
His breath was ragged and his heart beat so fast it felt like it might jump out of his chest. The fog began to clear and Chase realized Tessa lie beneath him, terrorized. Slowly he withdrew his rough hand from her milky white throat and slid it up to her face, stroking it tenderly. He could feel her body trembling and her gasping breath as he removed himself to sit on the edge of the bed.
Tessa quickly jumped from her position and ran to the door, cowering like a wounded animal. She watched the captain take deep breaths as he closed his eyes and outstretched his arms on his knees like a Buddha in meditation. In a few seconds he appeared to be at peace. He stared into the darkness toward the window where only a sliver of light pierced the room. Tessa was well aware when his focus turned to her. Although silence hung like thunderclouds before a storm, Tessa timidly moved toward the bathroom to get a cup of water and a wet washcloth.
Returning to Chase’s side she held out the cup of water to him. It seemed like an eternity before he looked up at her and took the cup. Tessa was startled at the broken look in those eyes. Up until this moment in time, Captain Chase Hunter had been the epitome of strength and bravery. Now here sat a man haunted by ghosts and some crushing deed that visited his dreams, robbing him of sleep. Tessa remembered how Chase had cooled her hands when she’d saved a soldier’s life then watched him kill a terrorist in front of her. Carefully she laid her hand on Chase’s and brought it up so that it could be wrapped in the cool wet cloth she’d brought from the bathroom.
“This will make you feel better, Chase,” she whispered nervously, not knowing how he would react to her touch. He seemed limp beneath her touch as he turned his eyes to her and began searching her face.
“I’m.” He stopped and swallowed, then laid his other hand on Tessa’s. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t had dreams like that in a long time.”
Chase’s voice was so low that Tessa found herself leaning in to hear him. “You said ‘Christina’. Your wife?”
Chase took in a deep breath and removed the washcloth from her hands. He ran it over his face and ears. “Sister. Died some years ago.” He knew he owed her more of an explanation. “The coroner said it was a drug overdose, but I know it was murder.”
Hesitantly Tessa rested her hand on his forearm. “That’s awful. I can only imagine the pain you’ve had to endure. Chase, I’m sorry,” she whispered tenderly.
Chase turned his head and found himself inches from her face. Openly he admired Tessa’s delicate bone structure and smooth skin. “You remind me of her. She was head strong too.” Chase smiled weakly. “She also had a strong faith, like you seem to. Talked about angels being among us, giving people second chances and charging in without a thought to her own safety.” Chase watched Tessa smile and felt her fingers squeeze his arm. “I should have been there to protect her. But I wasn’t. Some big brother I turned out to be.”
Tessa withdrew her hand. “We always see what we should’ve done in 20/20 vision, Chase.”
“Today when I thought you were in that car that crashed, I felt I’d let your family down, let you down. That probably triggered all this night terror.” He stood and grabbed the blanket and pillow from Tessa’s chair. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” She started to protest. “I just got back from a six month stint in Afghanistan. I slept on the ground most of the time. And,” Chase stopped and looked down at the still shaken Tessa, “thanks for the rescue.”
Tessa crawled up onto the bed and pulled the covers after her. “Thanks for not strangling me,” she said flippantly. Tessa thought she heard a short breathy laugh, then silence.
It had taken Tessa longer than Chase expected for her to fall into a deep rim sleep. When he glanced at the digital clock Chase realized it was already after 2 a.m. He stood and quietly moved to the air conditioner unit, turning it up on high. Tessa sprawled in the middle of the bed on her side, facing away from Chase as he slipped quietly beneath the sheet. He waited patiently as the room temperature fell below sixty degrees. Goosebumps formed on his exposed arm as he lay on his side, looking at the relaxed body of Tessa Scott. The leg she had rested on top of the sheet now went under it. Pulling the blanket up onto their shoulders, he felt her move restlessly and scrunch her body up into a fetal position. Chase waited, watching, what he knew would eventually bring Tessa to him.
This scenario, in bed with a married woman, went against the grain for Chase Hunter. Something in Tessa Scott reminded him of a life long ago, when his mother made cookies from scratch, his father took time to throw him a baseball and his sister teased him about the village girls liking him. The darkness in his life began to fall when he fled China, leaving his parents behind to be slaughtered by Madame Mao’s recruits. The escape across the Tibetan Plateau left him and his sister dangerously ill. Had it not been for the kindness of Buddhists monks risking their own lives to protect them, Chase and Christina would never have returned to start new lives in the states. Less than ten years later his baby sister was dead too. Nothing had prepared Chase for the deep loss he experienced when Christina died. A deep seeded anger swallowed him so savagely that Chase swore he’d take revenge on the man who extinguished the light in his life no matter how long it took.
Upon finishing his training in Delta Force, Chase had been called upon to do things he never thought his conscience would allow. But the darkness in his soul told him it was for the greater good and love of country enabling Chase to live with his sins and trespasses. He’d continued his studies until he’d received a Ph.D. in literature. There had been times when he wondered how his father would react to his choice since Chase had been expected to follow in his footsteps as a surgeon. Upon entering West Point Chase had indeed tried to follow in his father’s path, majoring in Chemistry and then training as a medic for the Rangers. It had been his courage under fire, saving liv
es that forced him onto the radar of Benjamin Clark. With Ben’s stern leadership and guidance, Chase began to channel his rage and focus on the big picture rather than his own selfish, vindictive world. Ben helped him take on a new role, doing what he loved; teaching. He also provided the adrenaline rush of lethal force in Enigma he needed to survive.
Tessa inched closer, snuggling into her pillow.
Chase conjured up the imagine of Honey Lynch, comparing her to the innocent creature now less than a foot from him. Honey had been the vessel he’d taken refuge, spilling his rage, fear and torment into whenever the opportunity presented itself. She’d taken his lust, never asking for anything in return. There had been no allusions to what the chameleon did for a living or that her loyalties always went to the highest bidder. Targets were subjected to her lack of conscience which made Honey’s expertise in elimination attractive to the most perverse clientele. Her passionate love making skills came without a heart or strings attached. She and Chase worked together on occasion, celebrating when victorious, separating with suspicion when failure prevailed. You could never really be sure of Honey’s intentions. Knowing that she watched the Scott family, gave Chase more than a little concern.
Tessa reached out for more covers, but Chase lifted the blanket where she couldn’t reach it. His eyes narrowed as a devious smile formed across his lips. Just a little closer, he thought without shame. I want to know what redemption feels like in the flesh, Tessa Scott.
Chase waited another few minutes before Tessa rolled over into his chest. Holding his breath, Chase continued to wait; would she be startled awake and scream or continue to sleep, catching the warmth of his body? Cold feet and nose forced Chase to drape his arm across Tessa and draw her tightly into his body. In minutes Tessa relaxed and stretched out along his body, so warm, soft and inviting. Chase felt her breath on his face as her hair fell down around her chin. The smell of soap and shampoo clung heavily to her body. His eyes felt heavy. Sleep often evaded Chase, but not tonight. Having something good in your life made the world appear to be a better place. Tomorrow he would get on with the business of Enigma, but tonight he would pretend that his mirage would last forever.
An Unlikely Hero (1) Page 24