Renegade: Special Tactical Units Devision (STUD) Book 3

by Sandra Marton

  “I failed you,” he said in a harsh voice.

  “You? Never! You could never—”

  “After you hadn’t phoned for a few days, after you hadn’t taken my calls, I went to your apartment.”

  She smiled. “My shoebox-size two rented rooms, you mean.”

  “I used the key you’d given me to get in. And you were gone. I mean, everything that you were was gone. Your clothes. Your books. The sea shells you used to pick up on the beach…”

  Her smile tilted. “The men who came for me said they would see to clearing out all my things.”

  Dec leaned his forehead against hers.

  “Your landlord said you’d decided to move. That you’d left no forwarding address.”

  “Yes. The men who took me—”

  “How could I have believed him? You’d never have done something like that. Even if you’d decided to end things between us, you’d have told me.” His voice roughened. “My pride. My ego. Whatever you call it, I let it take over when what I should have done was gone looking for you.”

  “And you would have, if only I’d told you the truth.”

  He drew her to him. She buried her face against his shoulder.

  “Those bastards,” he said softly. “Your uncle. The Tharsalonian king. And now Amjad.”

  Annie pulled back. “Declan. Promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”

  His lips drew back from his teeth in a wolfish smile. “I won’t do anything foolish.”

  “I mean it. My uncle has no scruples. The king of Tharsalonia is greedy enough to be anyone’s pawn. And Amjad…” She framed his face with her hands. “Please, my love, please, promise me you won’t do anything foolish.”

  It was the first time she had called him her love. The words sang in his blood, in his heart, but there was no stopping the rage that coursed through him.

  “Declan?”

  Dec switched off the lantern, then brushed his lips over Annie’s and rose to his feet with her in his arms.

  “I promise,” he said. “I won’t do anything foolish.”

  He carried her to their bed and lay down with her, wrapping them both in a soft blanket, holding her close as her breathing slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. He’d made her a promise and he would keep it.

  There was nothing even remotely foolish about eliminating the uncle and the two other men who had chosen to sentence his Annie to what would have been a life of slavery.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The soft patter of rain woke Dec in the middle of the night.

  He’d already left the warmth of the bed and the warmth of the woman he loved so he could slip outside to make sure the perimeter was still secure.

  Time to check again.

  He’d done what he could to secure the house. He’d emptied out several soup cans, pried off the tops, half-filled the cans with pebbles and strung them on paracord. Then he’d tied the cord to trees and shrubs to make a kind of barrier around the house. He’d also rigged lines at the doors and at the single window.

  At least an intruder would not be able to make a quiet approach.

  Now, he pressed a light kiss to Annie’s hair, rose from the bed, pulled on his almost-dry camo pants, undid the alarm system at the back door and eased outside.

  He was greeted by familiar night sounds. Always a good sign. He took a quick look into the lean-to. The horse had his head down and was asleep.

  Nothing had been disturbed.

  Dec was more and more certain that the men following them had gone west instead of north. Tomorrow, he’d give the satphone another try. If it worked, he’d arrange for a rendezvous. If it didn’t, he’d have to wait until they reached the market town at the border and hope somebody there would have a telephone.

  One way or another, he’d get Annie to safety. To Santa Barbara and his cottage. Their cottage. From now on, it would belong to them both. Then he’d find a way to come back and deal with her uncle Cyrus, with the king of Tharsalonia, and with Altair Amjad.

  He entered the cottage soundlessly, re-rigged the warning system at the door, took off his pants and rubbed down with a towel. Then he returned to the narrow bed.

  In his absence, Annie had moved into the center of it. There was just space enough for him to lie on his side and wrap one arm around her.

  She sighed and rolled onto her side. Shifted her sweet ass so it pressed into the cradle of his thighs.

  A gentleman would have moved back a couple of inches and if that wasn’t possible, a gentleman would have grabbed a sheepskin and made himself a bed on the floor.

  But Dec wasn’t a gentleman, not when it came to how he reacted to his woman. His body responded instantly, sending his blood straight to his dick.

  Forget it, he told himself. She needed sleep.

  His hand moved from her hip to her waist to her breast.

  He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of it, the way the nipple kissed his palm.

  He bit back a groan. Told himself what a no-good bastard he was even to think about having her again…

  Too bad his dick didn’t get the message.

  The head of it was seeking comfort, seeking Annie’s heat.

  And, God, she was hot. Within seconds, she was wet. Her body was ready to welcome his.

  He moved.

  Just a little.

  Half an inch.

  A little more

  She sighed. “Declan,” she whispered sleepily.

  She reached back, put her hand between them, and stroked him.

  He slipped inside her. Slowly. Slowly.

  She said his name again and he slid deeper into her silky softness. She moaned.

  “Baby,” he said thickly, rocking against her.

  “Yes,” she said, “yes yes, like that. Like that. Like…”

  Her muscles convulsed around him; she threw her head back and cried out into the night.

  He came with her, sinking his teeth lightly into her shoulder as he did.

  They stayed that way for long minutes. Then he turned her towards him.

  “Never leave me again,” he said gruffly.

  She clasped his face between her hands. “Never. Never, never, never!”

  He kissed her. And then he was hard again, he needed her again, and he rolled her onto her back and she wrapped her legs around his hips and took him into her.

  He rode her, hard and fast.

  They came together, flying through the night with the swift brilliance of shooting stars.

  Then they tumbled into sleep.

  * * *

  It was dawn the next time Dec woke. He’d rigged a blanket over the window, but the early morning light managed to slip through the soft weave.

  He lay on his back, his arms around Annie. She lay half-sprawled over him. They must have been lying that way for a couple of hours because his muscles felt a little stiff, but he wouldn’t have moved for anything in the world.

  He loved the feel of her against him, the whisper of her breath on his throat, the silky drift of her hair against his chest.

  He stroked her hair. Her back. She sighed and rolled onto her side. He rose up on one elbow. Her lips were slightly parted and he gave into temptation, bent his head and kissed her.

  Even in sleep, her mouth clung softly to his.

  God, he loved her!

  He knew now that he’d always loved her; he just hadn’t been ready to admit it to himself. Love—the forever kind of love—was scary as shit when you’d lived strictly for yourself for such a long time. Not that he’d never loved anybody. He loved his parents. His STUD brothers. But the one man, one woman thing?

  He’d never thought about it much and when he had, he’d been unable to imagine wanting only one woman for the rest of his life.

  Dec took a strand of Annie’s dark hair and let it run through his fingers.

  Now he couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else.

  It still killed him that he’d let hims
elf believe she’d just packed up and left him. Sure, he’d felt her putting up a wall between them, but he should have known she’d never have walked away without some sort of explanation.

  He’d been so fucking focused on himself that he’d been blind to everything else. Even at the wedding, during those few moments he’d been alone with her, he should have known something was wrong. She’d had a sad look in her eyes, a sorrow that was almost palpable, but instead of asking her about that he’d asked why she hadn’t told him she was a princess.

  Because you never asked, she’d replied.

  Jesus.

  Such a dumb question, and such an empty answer. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d meant he’d never asked her the things he should have. Even that day, he’d walked away instead of saying Why did you leave me? Why did you run away when you must have known that I loved you?

  But she hadn’t known, because he hadn’t told her.

  Well, he was going to make up for that omission. He was going to tell her he loved her every day for the rest of their lives. That she completed him. That she was everything he could ever want.

  Pathetic male creature that he was, he wanted her now.

  Okay. It was time to get away from temptation. She had to be tired. Maybe sore from all the times they’d made love. He had to leave her alone. Get up. See about making some coffee. Check the shelves for breakfast stuff. Crackers. Jam. Was there such a thing as peanut butter in this part of the world?

  In other words, do something useful instead of lying here and imagining making love to her.

  Dec began to ease away, but Annie gave a little hum of protest and flung her arm over his chest.

  He held still. Seconds went by.

  He tried again.

  Another murmur of protest—and this time, she tossed her leg over his.

  Oh, man.

  Dec gritted his teeth.

  Her leg was high over his. High enough so she was open against his thigh. He could feel her heat, her dampness on his skin.

  His dick shot to immediate attention.

  He shut his eyes. Silently began counting. One. Two. Three…

  “Good morning.”

  Her voice was soft and sexy. And her hand… Ah, dear God. Her hand was snaking down his chest, down his belly…

  “You’re asking for trouble, Princess,” he growled.

  She laughed. It was a deep, dirty, wonderful laugh. “I certainly hope so, Lieutenant.”

  “Anoushka.” Her hand closed around him. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Honey. You must be sore.”

  She was. Riding behind him on the horse had put a strain on her thighs. And they’d made love so many, many times.

  Still, there was no way she could get enough of him. Her Declan. Her lover. A little soreness was a small price to pay for the joy of having him inside her.

  She told him that, not with words, with her body. She moved over him, kissed him, and he groaned, clasped her hips and brought her down on his erect penis.

  She moaned. Her head fell back. She raised herself and slowly came down on him again.

  “Is that good?” she whispered.

  Dec gave a tortured laugh. “It’s perfect.”

  He put his hand between them, found her clit, caressed it while she slid up and down his hard length.

  He was never going to get enough of this. Of her. He would never lose her again. Never. So what if he was a soldier? So what if she was a princess? So what if their two nations were enemies…

  “Declan,” Annie whispered.

  There were tears in her eyes. His heart clenched.

  “Sweetheart. Am I hurting you?”

  “No. Oh no, Declan. I just—I love you. I love you. I love—”

  “Anoushka,” he said, and he stopped thinking, tumbled her beneath him and swept reality away.

  * * *

  They found coffee, sugar, even a small can of condensed milk plus a box of something Dec swore looked like small brown floor tiles, and a jar of something that turned out to be jam.

  “A feast,” Annie said, laughing.

  Dec poured some of the condensed milk into his coffee, took a sip and rolled his eyes.

  “Heaven.”

  “The coffee?”

  “Well, sure. But mostly the condensed milk, that combo of sugar and cream… My mom used to bake Christmas cookies and one of the ingredients was condensed milk. I loved it.”

  “The cookies or the milk?”

  Dec grinned. “Both.”

  Annie reached for the can and read the label.

  “I bet you can get a sugar-high from this stuff,” she said.

  She dipped her finger into the can and raised the finger to her lips, but Dec grabbed her hand and sucked her finger into the heat of his mouth.

  “Super delicious,” he said. “And you’re the best sugar-high I can think of.”

  She smiled, leaned towards him and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “So your mom baked cookies?”

  “Yeah. Well, when she had the time. She drove to work in Taos every day. It was thirty miles one way. Plus there was always a lot to do around our place.”

  “That field of corn.”

  He smiled. “Right. And we had a big vegetable garden. We kept chickens. And we had a couple of horses.”

  “What did your mother do in Taos?”

  Declan looked at Annie.

  “She cleaned houses,” he said. “And motel rooms. Not any more, though.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been, you know, I’ve been able to help out a little.”

  Annie nodded. Of course he helped out. She’d never met anyone with a bigger heart than her Declan.

  “And your father? What about him?”

  “My old man’s a great guy. He paints. He sculpts. Last time I was home, he’d taken up pottery.”

  “An artist,” Annie said with delight.

  “Only problem is, he’s not very good at the commercial end of it. I don’t think he’s sold more than a dozen pieces of his work in a decade.” Dec took her hand and played with her fingers. “Sounds like the setup for a five-handkerchief boy-girl movie. My mother cleaned houses and my dad’s a dreamer. Your mother was a debutante and your father ruled a kingdom.”

  “Declan. You’re not going to tell me you think that matters!”

  He kissed each of her fingertips.

  “I’m not going to tell you that, no—but you have to admit, it’s a little unusual.”

  “You’re what’s unusual,” she said softly.

  “No way, honey. That title belongs to you.”

  She smiled at him. He smiled back, leaned in, brushed his lips over hers and felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of foreboding.

  They kept talking about being together, but how was that going to work? The cards were stacked against them. Yes, absolutely, she would not return to Qaram. And yes, absolutely, he would find a way to deal with the men who had harmed her. But it was hard enough to find happy endings in today’s world even when there were no obvious barriers in the way…

  “Whatever you’re thinking,” Annie said, “stop thinking it.”

  Annie’s arms were folded over her chest. Her eyes were narrowed. She was all determination and intensity.

  He laughed and pulled her onto his lap.

  “Kiss me,” he said, “and then get that lovely ass in gear because we have work to do.”

  She gave him the kind of smile that would have melted iron. “Is that what you think? That I have a lovely ass?”

  He grinned and set her on her feet.

  “I’ll answer that question later—but only if you’ve been a very, very good girl.”

  “How good?” she said, batting her lashes.

  Dec nipped the side of her throat. “Extremely good,” he said in a sexy whisper. Then he slapped her lightly on her backside and they got to work, straightening things up and packing their gear.

  * * *

  Annie had hoped to find a currycomb in the lean-to, but none turned up
so she used a couple of rough rags to rub down the horse.

  The horse didn’t have any objections. In fact, after a few minutes, it snorted, lowered its head and rubbed it against hers.

  She paused and stroked his neck. “I agree,” she whispered. “It’s good we’re not on the road just yet. I don’t know why, but my head’s starting to hurt.”

  “What’s hurting?”

  Annie turned around. “Declan.” She smiled. “I thought Big Boy here could do with a little TLC.”

  “What did you say about something hurting?”

  “Nothing.” She sighed when Dec raised his eyebrows. “I have a little headache. Don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing.”

  “I have some ibuprofen in my gear.”

  “I don’t need ibuprofen. Really. I’m…” Her gaze went to the satphone in his hand and her smile faded. If the phone worked, that would be the good news and the bad news. They had been so happy here…

  “The phone. Does it work now?”

  “We’re about to find out.” He sat down on a wooden bench by the door and gestured to her to come sit next to him. Once she had, he activated the phone.

  A click. A hum. And Dec heard the voice of the Recovery Mission COM OP in his ear.

  “Lieutenant Sanchez? Jesus. I mean, heck, sir, is that you?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Billy Taylor, sir. Ensign William B. Taylor. Sir.”

  “Taylor. Can the ‘sir’ crap and put me through to Captain Black.”

  “Yessir. I mean, jeez, sir, we’ve been goin’ nuts here, wondering what happened to you and the lady. I mean—”

  “Goddammit, Taylor. Put me through.”

  “Sanchez?”

  Dec let out his breath. “Captain.”

  “You okay?”

  “Fine, sir.”

  “And the princess?”

  Dec reached for Annie’s hand. “She’s fine too, sir.”

  “What the fuck happened? Why didn’t you make it to the bird?”

  Okay. So his guys hadn’t said he and Annie could have made it, only that they hadn’t. He owed them—but then, that was what SEALS and STUDs were all about. They had the loyalty of brothers.

  “Sanchez? You hear the question?”

  “Yessir. We didn’t make it to the Black Hawk because it wasn’t safe for the princess.” True enough. “I’ll explain more when I see you.”