Blue Forever (Men in Uniform)

by Bruhns, Nina

  In his younger days in Force Recon, and later when he was promoted into the new Marine Special Operations Intelligence Battalion, his reputation for keen instincts, reckless daring, and a velvet hand as a team leader had earned him a fast track up through the ranks. But covert reconnaissance was a young man’s game. He’d been feeling the pressure from on high for a while now to accept one of the more sedentary, less risky jobs with SOCOM—Special Ops Command.

  You’re too good an analyst and advisor to be wasted in the field, Llowell. We need you alive and planning the ops, not chasing around the world putting your neck on the line.

  Sure, it would be a good promotion, but the thought of sitting behind a desk for the rest of his career made Kip break out in hives.

  Luckily, this time he was also the best man for the job.

  His skill with a camera was the one thing that gave him an edge over his younger colleagues. The young smartasses called him Zoom. But they were just jealous because the old man could still whip their butts on every level.

  This op was critical. The navy rep had warned that failure was not an option. But Kip’s unlucky landing while parachuting in had as good as doomed the mission before it started. A sudden wind shear had whipped him off course, right up the rugged side of the mountain instead of the softer jungle vegetation at the foot of it, tossing him and his equipment like confetti into the thick forest at the top. It had taken all his skill to avoid the dagger-like pine trees and not impale himself, but he hadn’t been able to avoid the jumble of boulders he’d landed on. His backpack had fared even worse.

  The camera had survived, but not the telephoto lens. With that damaged, there’d be no close-up of the cutting-edge AUV the Chinese would soon be using to spy on U.S. military installations and commercial ports—and anything else they wanted to—along America’s coastlines. The U.S. Navy scientists working on countermeasures would be designing blind. Not good.

  Which was why Kip had been so hell-bent on getting a ride back down to Sanya. There was no way he’d leave China without completing his mission. So he’d arranged for Jake Warner, his second in command in the unit, to meet him in the busy tourist town with a hastily scrounged replacement lens.

  But somehow, Kip’s cover had been blown. Sanya would now be crawling with cops and soldiers searching for him.

  He needed to make contact with Jake and move their rendezvous point before either of them was caught.

  DeAnne’s State Department intervention could prove a useful distraction. There wasn’t a chance in hell her plan to get him out would work. But it might just pull the dogs off him long enough to meet Jake and get what he needed.

  As long as he didn’t let himself get any more distracted than he already was.

  Jesus. He’d really gone off the rails this time. His behavior was so out of character he didn’t even recognize himself.

  On the other hand . . . Damn, it would be so insanely sweet to have DeAnne Lovejoy.

  Naked.

  Moaning his name . . .

  A vibrant image of her bare body moving rhythmically under his almost made him groan out loud. Somewhere along the line Ms. Practical had turned into Ms. Practically Irresistible.

  Make that Totally Irresistible.

  Damn, the woman was really getting under his skin, making him itch in ways he hadn’t itched in years.

  Of all the inappropriate times to regress into a hormonal teenager. How had that happened?

  Indecision had him waffling back and forth between being smart and employed . . . or being happily sated.

  Should he, or should he not, drag the delectable Ms. Lovejoy down on the ground, ruck up her sensible skirt, and fuck her till she screamed his name? That was the burning question.

  He’d more or less promised. And she’d more or less accepted.

  Didn’t seem right not to follow through . . .

  His mind went round and round.

  But before he had a chance to decide one way or another, the sound of voices drifted down from the trail ahead.

  Shit.

  He turned swiftly and DeAnne looked up. He put a finger to his lips. “Someone’s coming,” he silently mouthed, and reached for her hand. Tugging her off the path, he pulled her up into the cover of the thick forest vegetation. She stumbled, swallowing a gasp, and he caught her around the waist to keep her from falling. She grabbed him for balance and ended up plastered against his chest.

  A potent mixture of needing to find a safe hiding place . . . and liking the feel of her body against his . . . made him sweep her up in his arms to carry her.

  “Kip!” she squeaked in a whisper. “Put me—”

  “Shhh,” he admonished as he moved quietly up the slope at a fast, if slightly uneven, clip.

  The voices were approaching quickly.

  After a short hesitation, she slid her arms around his neck and hung on. “Soldiers?” she asked in the barest of whispers.

  His mouth brushed close to her ear. “Probably locals. We may have been spotted on the trail.”

  She tipped her head back to meet his gaze, her eyes filled with alarm.

  He shook his head. “They won’t find us,” he barely whispered.

  Her hold on him tightened, and a rush of protectiveness flooded through him. Whatever happened, he would not let any harm come to her.

  He ducked behind an evergreen and stepped into the thick tangle of its low, spreading branches. They were instantly enveloped by the prickly feel of stiff, fragrant needles and the pungent scent of pine sap.

  He carefully released her legs and let her slide to her feet, but kept his arms around her, tucking her head against his shoulder. She stayed there, holding him close.

  It felt good. Really good.

  So good he almost missed the voices and footsteps of a man and woman hurrying past.

  A moment later, DeAnne whispered, “They were arguing over what kind of seeds to plant.”

  Right. She spoke Chinese. At her translation, his shoulders notched down a bit. But he made no move to release her. And she made no move to pull away.

  He circled his arms more snugly around her. He loved how her curves pressed into his body, soft and warm. Perfect. He spread his feet apart and urged her into the V of his legs, bringing them center to center.

  He felt her inhale sharply. But she didn’t resist. She melted against him. He went hard again, thick and pulsing with want. He could tell she noticed. Her body adjusted with a subtle undulation of her hips, pressing against him. Jesus. Did she know what she was doing to him?

  He grasped her practical ponytail and wound it around his palm, pulling her head back so her face was forced to tip up to his.

  “Kip,” she whispered, her voice a silken thread, her eyes molten.

  It was nearly his undoing.

  He loved the sound of his name on her lips. And the blush of desire on her cheeks. Desire for him. His cock thickened even more. His nostrils flared, drinking in the scent of her skin, dewy with the sweet, honest sweat of exertion, more intoxicating than any frilly perfume.

  He wanted to kiss her so badly he almost shook with the self-restraint it took not to lower his mouth and take what he wanted.

  He held her head immobile, slowly dipped his lips to her ear, and murmured, “God, I want you naked.”

  He felt a tremor go through her. Several heartbeats went by. “You mean . . . here? Now?” she whispered shakily.

  The corner of his lip curled. Scared, but willing. He ran his hand over her ass, pressing his fingers deep into the dips in her skirt formed by the contours of her bottom. Her heartbeat quickened. He could feel its thump a-thump a-thump against his chest.

  “No,” he said, brushing his mouth over the shell of her ear. “I want to take all night with you. Fuck you breathless. But we still have ground to cover today.”

  Her lips par
ted against his throat and she swallowed, making a soft, incoherent sound.

  “I’m not going to kiss you,” he said. “If I do, it’ll be all over.”

  She shuddered out an exhale, sounding strangled and breathy.

  “Okay?” he asked. He wanted to hear her voice. To be sure she felt the same crazy need.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  She did.

  He held her tight for another few seconds, then somehow found the strength of will to grasp her by the arms and set her away from him. He met her gaze one last time, sharing a look that could have powered New York for a week.

  Then he took her hand again and helped her down the slope and back to the trail. “There’s a cell tower on the next mountaintop over,” he told her. “We should be able to make that phone call once we reach the crest up ahead.”

  She nodded, her expression a potent blend of desire, frustration, and fear. “All right.”

  Then she seemed to gather herself. “We— We’re twelve hours ahead here. So it’ll be”—she slid her hand from his and checked her watch—“around four a.m. in Washington.” Her lips twitched. Not exactly a smile, but close. “Roger will be thrilled.”

  Hold on. “Roger?” An unbidden bolt of jealousy lanced through him.

  She blinked. “Roger Achity, Deputy Assistant Secretary. My boss.”

  He took an involuntary step toward her. “You call your boss by his first name?”

  She backed up. “Don’t you?”

  He scowled. “I call my boss colonel or sir.”

  This time she held her ground. “Well, the State Department is less formal than the military, I guess.”

  He was seized with an overwhelming urge to interrogate her about her exact relationship with this Roger Achity guy. With difficulty, he reined it in.

  None of your damn business, he told himself.

  “No doubt,” he gritted out.

  He shut his mouth before something completely inappropriate came out of it, then turned and continued up the trail.

  Like he said, totally messing with his heads.

  And every other damn part of him, too.

  “Kip!”

  He halted, looked back, and realized DeAnne must have called him several times. She’d stopped a ways back on the trail, and was holding her cell phone in her hand.

  He saw to his surprise that they’d reached the top of the ridge.

  “Sorry,” he called back. “Gathering wool. What’s up?”

  “I got a signal.”

  Ah. “That’s good,” he said, and backtracked to where she was standing.

  At least he hoped it was good.

  Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure anymore. State Department personnel were notorious for being officious rule followers. What if instead of negotiating on his behalf, they ordered her to turn him in to the Chinese authorities? What if she refused, and got fired for trying to help him instead? For aligning herself with a known spy? Her mandate to help U.S. citizens abroad only applied to those citizens who weren’t embroiled in international espionage.

  She put the phone to her ear. “It’s ringing.”

  They could both be in big trouble.

  “Wait!” he said, and covered the last few yards to her in two steps. “I—”

  But she held up a finger at him and nodded.

  Too late.

  “It’s DeAnne.”

  He just had to pray she knew what she was doing.

  “Hi Roger.”

  And that he didn’t end up strangling that Roger Achity.

  10

  “DeAnne?”

  Roger’s voice halted for a stunned second, then burst through the connection loud and clear. “Christ have mercy, woman! We all thought you were dead!”

  “Oh, gosh no, I’m—”

  “Where the hell are you and why haven’t you called in before now? I’m over the Pacific on a frigging Air Force transport plane on my way to China to find your damn dead body.”

  “There’s no— I’m not—” He was on his way to China?

  “We’ve all been sick about this. My God, DeAnne! What the fuck happened to you?”

  DeAnne cringed at the tirade. She’d never heard her boss swear so much in under five seconds. “I’m sorry, Roger. We’ve been out of signal range, and—”

  “We? Who the hell’s we?” he demanded.

  Leave it to Roger to zero in instantly on the one important detail. He also sounded suspiciously like he already knew who the other half of the “we” was, and just needed a confirmation.

  She decided to play along. Circumspectly. In case the call was being monitored. “Um. You remember that certain citizen we were speculating about the day before I left?” She glanced at Kip, who was watching her, stone-faced, arms crossed over his broad chest.

  “I’m listening.” No surprise in Roger’s voice. Of course, there wouldn’t be. If he thought she’d died when the SUV went over the cliff, then obviously she must be with the spy.

  “Well, I um, happened across him . . . that is, he happened across me and Ms. Tanner—Chrissie, you know the art dealer I was escorting?—in a marketplace and—”

  “He’s with you now?” Roger interrupted.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m hanging up now. Stand by for instructions. Ten minutes.”

  “Wait! Rog—”

  The connection cut off.

  She held out the phone, looked at it, and blew out a breath of frustration. “Well, that was rude.” And unusual for Roger. He was a consummate diplomat. Something must really have rattled him. “He thought I was dead,” she said to Kip, who was still staring at her through narrowed eyes.

  “Good. Our plan worked,” he said. “What’s going on now?”

  “Heck if I know. He’s on his way over here.” Not exactly the reaction she’d expected from her boss, that was for sure. Although, she supposed . . . Darn, she hadn’t really considered the embassy’s reaction to the SUV accident. She hoped her “death” hadn’t caused any trouble.

  “To China?”

  “Yeah.” She bit her lip. “I think he’s calling Washington. He said to stand by for instructions.”

  Kip paused for a beat, then said, “I don’t like it. Instructions for what?”

  She ventured, “For bringing you in, I suppose.”

  “Or turning me in. What if he’s calling the Chinese authorities?” he said, his voice tight. He searched her face. “What if he orders you to hand me over to them?”

  “I’d never do that!” she exclaimed.

  “Even if it meant losing your job?”

  “Of c—” She faltered halfway through the protest.

  His mouth thinned and he started to turn away.

  In that second, she knew she could never betray this man.

  She reached out and grasped his forearm. “Yes,” she said with conviction. “Even if it means my job. I said I’d help you. I keep my promises.”

  The taut edges in his face slowly eased. “You don’t have to do that. Just promise you’ll tell me if that’s what he wants.”

  “I promise,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.

  He inhaled and nodded. “Okay. I trust you.” Then he pointed to the phone. “My turn.”

  * * *

  DeAnne handed Kip the phone and asked, “Who are you going to call?”

  “Friend of mine.” She didn’t know who he worked for, and he meant to keep it that way. The less she knew, the better.

  Just in case.

  He punched in Jake Warner’s number. Fun and games were over. Time to get the real show on the road.

  “Joe’s Bar and Grill,” came the reply after three rings. SOP when a strange or blocked number came up.

  “I need to change a takeaway order I phoned in yesterday,”
Kip said.

  There was a rustle, then Jake said, “Thank God you called.” He sounded agitated. “That takeaway order is—Fuck it,” he said, jettisoning the code-speak. “You were set up, man. You need to get the fucking hell out of there.”

  Kip straightened. “What are you talking about?”

  “Tony was scanning for chatter, keeping tabs on the situation over there, and came across some encrypted e-mails referring to the ‘decoy’ on Hainan and how someone had jumped the gun on blowing his cover.”

  Kip felt a jolt of shock, then a thick core of ice drilled down the center of his body. That explained a lot. “Who?” he asked.

  “Tony couldn’t decipher where the e-mails originated.”

  If Tony couldn’t, no one could.

  Kip digested for a moment. If he was just a decoy, something else was going down. “What’s the real op?”

  “Seems to be the same objective,” Jake said. “Or close. But apparently some team has been sent out. Not one of ours, though.” He sounded somewhat mystified.

  So was Kip. If the objective was the same, why send a whole team to do something one man could do much more quietly and efficiently?

  “Get down to the coast,” Jake told him. “One of the big hotels with lots of foreigners. We’ll arrange an extraction.”

  Which Kip knew was code for the team would go AWOL and come get him. He was also well aware of the repercussions that action would likely result in for all of them. “Stay put,” he ordered. “I’m serious. No sense all of us getting in trouble. I’ll figure something out.”

  There was a pause. “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He could hear the reluctance in his friend’s voice when he said, “All right. But I’ll keep this channel open. Ping if you need us.”

  “I will.” He wouldn’t. “Thanks. And thank Tony for the heads-up.”

  “Be safe, bro.”

  Kip hit the “off” button and wordlessly handed the phone back to DeAnne. Her eyes were glued to his face, worry etched on her own.