“Kalani? We’ve vetted her. Background checks.”
“In hours?”
“Days. Her sister works at the Khan facility. There’s a personal connection.”
“Isn’t that a risk, too?”
“No,” he said. “She’s different. She’s the good sheep. Her sister, on the other hand . . . well, she’s the secretary of the captain. We all know what that entails.”
Annica didn’t. Well, she had a clue, but nothing made much sense. She also wasn’t curious. For the first time in her investigative career, she was happy to not know. “So, background checks?”
“We’ve also had Sam take a look at her,” Jackson said. “You know about Sam, right?”
She knew about Sam. Also known as the human lie-detector.
“We got her in a video call with him,” Jackson said. “Little did she know her vitals were also being monitored. She’s clean.”
“You gave her a drug test, too?”
“No,” Jackson said with a laugh. “But she’s no liar. Cole’s friend, on the other hand . . .”
“I’ll talk to him tonight.”
Jackson was smiling at her.
“What?” Annica said.
“Nothing. I was going to talk about it to Cole in my little speech, but maybe I’ll just leave that up to you. I think you speak his language.”
Annica thought so, too. At least she hoped she still did. In the events of the last hour, so much had changed. She hoped the way he felt about her wasn’t one of them.
She sat beside Cole during the briefing, careful not to let her hand wander to his body, to his leg, or into his hand. She wanted to feel him again, to let him know she was there. That she was more than just a briefing attendee, or even a teammate. But she settled for holding the towel that sat in her lap. After the proceedings, she would take a shower and then find her guest room outside. She thought of the bed there, clean and warm and in the safety of a mosquito net. And in the safety of Jackson’s defense team. She thought of sharing the bed with Cole. Her mind drifted in and out as Jackson spoke.
“. . . concluded that it was a very small earthquake. Well, an event big enough to shift all that water. But small for Hawaii. The tsunami, too. It actually hit our beach the hardest because of how steep the local ocean shelf is. But as you can see, it hardly made it a few feet up the cliffs. I’m sure the homeowner here would be happy to hear that. I know he won’t be too happy about his guests, how many of us, and what we do for a living. But hopefully this will be all wrapped up soon. Hopefully we can . . .”
She hoped it would wrap up and set her free. Free with Cole. Free to explore the possibilities.
“. . . moving away from the phone mission. In fact, we’re dropping that completely. We don’t have time for it, to sit back and wait for the data to come trickling in. I’ve talked to Cole about this, and he’s willing to step up for us, to breach enemy lies and come away with one of the captain’s laptops. That’s huge. We’re also in a rush because our intel has picked up on some emerging threats. Not threats to us, but to the facility. A rival operation is plotting some sort of attack, most likely with explosives blended into a shipment. It can be any shipment, at any time. And speaking of any time . . . USGS is saying that earthquake was just an appetizer. So who knows what’s coming our way. Earthquakes, tsunamis, bombs . . . At least we know we got our own weapon on the job. Take a bow, Cole.”
There was a quiet round of applause for Cole. Golf claps filling the room. Annica nudged him playfully until he smiled in return. Cole, finally, with an aww-shucks face, said, “Thanks, guys. It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” Jackson said. “It’s only the basis for this whole offensive here. You and Annica, combined. I didn’t like it at the time, but I’m seeing how well you guys work together. And I think tonight proved that.”
Another round of cheers.
“My only question is,” Jackson said, “will you be ready to go tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Cole said. “What else would I be doing?”
“And how about you, Kalani?”
Like Cole and Annica, Kalani had slipped into a change of clothes. She’d already had her shower. She’d already had her meet-and-greet with the rest of the team. And apparently she’d already had her background check. All that was left now was for her to join the mission tomorrow in the last offensive.
“I didn’t want to say anything before you did,” Jackson said. “About your sister.”
Kalani turned directly to Cole and said, “You know her. She’s . . . the secretary.”
Cole nodded, a sad look on his face.
Jackson said, “In a lot of ways, tomorrow is a rescue mission.”
Now it was Kalani’s turn to nod solemnly.
“So we need all hands on deck.”
“Jackson,” Ethan said, “I was going to bring it up with you privately, but . . . well, it seems appropriate now.”
Jackson waited for him to continue.
Ethan said, “I’m ready.”
“You’re ready?”
“I’m tired of just sitting around and watching the action.”
“I can see that,” Jackson said.
“I’m tired of writing about it after the fact.”
Annica understood the feeling. Though she herself felt a little done with making news. Unlike Ethan, she wouldn’t mind taking a back seat, but she was proud of him for this, for standing up like this. And it was more than just foolish, youthful hunger for attention. The look in his eyes. The glare. The concentration. He was ready.
Jackson asked, “So what are you proposing?”
“I want to make the story.”
“How?”
“Any way I can. Any way I can help.”
Jackson nodded.
“He’s already vetted,” Annica said with a smile. “No need to have Sam talk to him or anything else. I’ve seen his true character already. I’ve worked with him in the trenches.”
“The trenches of journalism is a little different than DARC,” Jackson said.
“I’ve been in those trenches, too,” Ethan said. “Maybe not DARC Ops, but it was with a gun and body armor.”
“I believe you,” Jackson said. “No Sam necessary.”
“No tryout?”
Jackson smiled and said, “You’ve already had your trial, Soldier.”
Annica hadn’t noticed, but through fatigue or attraction or an extra helping of both, she had slowly let her head lower down until it was resting against Cole’s shoulder. He hadn’t moved away. She stayed there, working to have some control over a growing smile.
23
Cole
Gentlemen last. He waited for the last shower, when the hot water had run out and it was just the hard-breathing frigidity of a cold shower. He didn’t mind. He made it quick and efficient, thinking of Annica the whole time. Had it been a warm shower, and had he been still thinking of Annica—which would have been a guarantee—he would have perhaps wasted all the hot water himself. Taking a little too long, in her memory, on the dirtiest parts.
He could have used the release. He felt that now, the impending doom of his horniness returning as he crept back into the darkened guest house. He watched as a sliver of light spilled onto the bed, onto Annica. She had been waiting there for him. On top of the sheets, her back turned. Knees tucked up to chest. Was she sleeping?
Oh, God, he could have used the release . . .
It felt like he was bringing a loaded gun into bed with them. As if his gun had magically appeared from the Pacific. A different, softer kind. A harder kind. One they could both use. He crept over with that feeling already starting up in his shorts, the warming and tingling sensation of awoken desires, of anticipation . . . But for what?
She was sleeping.
She needed her sleep.
He might have needed something else.
Cole opened the mosquito netting and crept in, tying the mesh behind him without a sound. He even tried breathing quietly to
not disturb her any further.
He took a moment before resting a knee on the large air mattress, still standing at the foot of the bed, watching her sleep in Mira’s clothes. A big T-shirt. Small pair of shorts. No sheets. He watched the movement of her breathing, her shoulder rising and falling. Hair draped over. He looked down to her firm backside. How could he get any sleep next to that?
It might be his most difficult mission yet. Certainly his hardest.
Before he could climb into bed, Annica turned around. She was smiling, relaxed as if she’d been expecting him there.
She brushed her hair to the side. “I don’t care what they think anymore.”
“Think about what?”
“About us.”
He liked hearing that word come out of her mouth. Us. They indeed were an “us.” The details were still unclear as to just how much of an “us” they really were. But Cole was glad to start there. Together.
He was glad, too, seeing Annica inching over to her side of the bed, making room for him.
“I don’t care, either,” Cole said, climbing into bed next to her. “I never did.”
“I could tell.”
They lay next to each other, on their sides, curling in. There was a small gap between them that no one seemed in a rush to bridge. Cole kept his hands folded under his pillow.
“Besides,” Cole said, “it’s not like there’s nothing else for them to talk about. It’s been a pretty exciting night.”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
It surprised him. Cole hadn’t forgotten, but he’d taken steps to push it out of his mind the best he could. He preferred not to think about Tommy until he knew what the score was. Until he knew if Tommy had really sold him out. Until he knew if Tommy would survive . . .
“Everything’s up in the air right now,” he said, feeling that sickness gnaw again at the pit of his stomach. That sick feeling of not knowing something important. “All up in the air, isn’t it?”
“Some of it,” Annica said.
“Some of the most important things.”
She waited a moment and then said, “Some of those important things are also known, too.”
He knew how he felt about her. He knew that, at the very least.
“I know,” Cole said.
“You do?” She flipped around, facing away from him now. At first, the move worried Cole. But then he watched as she slid backward, into him. Spooning. They took a deep breath, together, and Cole’s arm draped over her. It was a natural instinct, like taking a breath. Their bodies, too, naturally together. Instincts all the way, from emails to the beach, and now to this bed.
Cole held her close and said, “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.”
“I know,” she said.
Annica smelled clean and fresh from the shower. They might have used the same borrowed soap. Like she did, Cole wore his guest’s clothes, Jackson’s jogging shorts. No shirt. Her body felt warm and amazing against his bare chest.
She yawned. “I’m so tired, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”
“I can stay up with you,” Cole said. “As long as it takes.”
Annica pulled her pillow closer, her body settling in snugly against him with a gentle wiggle across his crotch. They lay in silence for a moment, listening to the waves far down at the beach. Annica shivered slightly in his arms, and he could maybe guess why. Hours ago, after that first wave, the coast had been hit several more times, with decreasing severity. The sea had since returned to its normal surf, with normal-sized waves. He listened to them crash now, wondering when the next big round would come ashore.
“I hope I thanked you properly,” Cole said. “You basically saved my life.”
“I did save your life.”
“You did,” Cole said.
“You saved mine, too. So I guess we’re already even.”
“We’re even,” he said, bringing his face down to her shoulder. “We’re very even.”
“We are.”
He kissed her shoulder through the cotton of her T-shirt.
He peeled back her sleeve, up her arm, and laid his lips on her soft, bare skin. Kissing there. Sucking, just a little bit. She pressed back into him. It was as if their bodies couldn’t bear to be apart.
Annica turned her head slightly, trying to get a glimpse of him. He nuzzled his face to her neck, pinning her down with a kiss. She groaned so quietly in the dark, in bed, with him. While at her neck, Cole could feel one of her hands drop down his body, feeling him through his shorts. Feeling him growing.
Another round of waves crashed ashore. Distant. Safely away. And up here in this little hut, in their close and dark privacy, with their bodies pressed against each other’s, he felt safe, too.
Safe enough to stop talking. To let their bodies continue the conversation. The exchange. Cole’s shorts slid down, and then Annica’s, smooth and quick down her thighs. He leaned forward, leaning into her, spreading her until she gave way, warm and tight and perfect.
She might have said something then, when he’d slid fully inside, when their bodies touched. Something low and garbled with ecstasy as her face turned away and into the pillow. She made her noises into the pillow, quietly—as quietly as he worked in her, with hardly any sound but their breathing and the rocking of the bed. He gripped on to her, by the soft mounds of her hips. She gripped the bed, hands contracted tightly. Her body gripped tightly around him and already it seemed impossible for him to last this way. The motion too good, the fit too right. Everything perfectly quiet. Close and quiet enough for Cole to hear the sweet sound of how excited he’d made her. To hear their skin, sticking now as they warmed with the motion. He pumped harder, warmer. His hands moved up from her hips, up her back, pushing up her shirt. He wanted to see her bare flesh. More of it. He wanted a faceful of her bare back, and he got it now and kissed it softly. She kept her face away, hidden. Breasts no longer hidden. His hands had moved around to find them, holding both against the jarring thuds of his hips.
Her face no longer buried, Annica turned back to him, to catch his lips and hold them. He held her head as they groaned through a long, hot kiss. She never let go, even as he came with a groan, her pussy contracting around him as she shuddered beneath him.
24
Annica
The sun had just crested the dark blue horizon by the time Annica sat down in the cool sand of the beach. Overnight, she had grown to mistrust the sea and its outward beauty. Somewhere beneath the waves lay its horrific capabilities. It looked calm today, but surface appearance hardly mattered. She had learned how quickly a moment of calm could descend into madness.
She was reassured, at least, that the water had not receded again. She watched the tides carefully, noting the utter normalcy of it all. She had learned, if the tide were to mysteriously pull back, to run for high ground no matter what she was doing or who she was hiding from, or whose sexy body she was underneath.
Just a few hours ago, there had been no waves to separate them—but for the ones they’d made for themselves. Waves of pleasure. Waves of heat, washing over the bed. Ripples through the mattress. His force rippling through her body. Those were the good kind of waves. Waves she hadn’t expected to feel in Hawaii. But nothing about this trip was in the realm of expectations—save for the natural beauty of the beach. She stared out as the sun climbed higher and warmer, the day opening up before her. A beautiful day. A dangerous day, too. Perhaps the most dangerous yet.
She leaned back on her palms, enjoying how the soft sand spilled through her fingers. The wind, toying with her hair. Through it all, even the darkest parts of the adventure, some part of her enjoyed it. The excitement made her feel more alive than any number of years growing numb and hunchbacked in front of a laptop.
Between waves, she heard someone calling her name. Ethan ambled down the footpath, waving shyly. The last she’d seen of him was another of his close and serious interviews with Kalani. He came up to her now with a wry sm
ile. “Good morning.”
“Came out for the sunrise?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I barely slept.”
“Nerves?”
He sat down next to her. “A lot of things.”
“Kalani?”
“What?” he said, laughing nervously.
“Nothing.”
“Actually,” Ethan said, “I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“You do?”
“Just about . . . you know . . .”
“I have no clue,” Annica said, wanting to laugh but not knowing if it would crush him somehow. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Ethan chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I was getting the feeling last night that I was being talked about. Questioned.”
“Questioned? Like as a journalist?”
“My professionalism,” Ethan said. “We were all just having a good time and everything, but, I was just wondering if you really felt that way. That I could be . . . unprofessional?”
Annica took another look at him, trying to see beyond the surface calm. Beyond the surface waves of the sea, to the inner turmoil. What exactly had he meant by “unprofessional”?
“All I’ve seen you do is try to work and suss out the story, and just keep being the great journalist you are.” She shrugged and left it at that.
Ethan shrugged, too. And then he chuckled quietly and said, “Okay. I was worried you though . . . You thought I was trying to suss out something else.”
“What?” Annica said, laughing. “What does that even mean?”
His laughter had come to a quick halt. “I’ve never tried to hit on you or anything,” he said, looking away from her as if she’d become the bright sunrise. “I’ve never thought of you like that.”
That was a lie. But she was okay to skirt past it. “It’s okay,” she said. “I know.” It was best for both of them, just get past it and leave it there. Dead on arrival. A non-topic.
“Sorry,” he said, grimacing in the soft light. “I knew this would be awkward.”
Dark Salvation (DARC Ops Book 7) Page 19