by Zoe Dawson
His hand not quite steady, he brushed at the wayward strands of her hair and smoothed them down, the constriction in his throat so intense it made his jaw ache. He didn’t know what he would do if she didn’t forgive him, but he’d lived so long without her as it was. The least he could do was make it right.
She stared up at him, then a confused frown appeared. “Ford?”
He dragged her backward toward the shadow of one of the barracks. He tried to smile as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “We did fail miserably, and I always blamed myself, but you’re right, we were both there, and we both made decisions that led to where we are now,” he said gruffly.
She stared at him for an instant longer, then she closed her eyes and clasped his biceps, holding onto him with desperate strength. Closing his own eyes, Fast Lane encircled her waist with his hands. Inhaling raggedly, he tightened his hold on her, an agony of relief rushing through him. She let out a soft sob as he moved his hand to cup the back of her head, clenching his teeth against the powerful surge of sensation washing over him. His face contorting with raw emotion, he dragged her against him, and she came fully into his arms, fusing herself flush against him. His face pressed against her neck, he hung on to her, grateful—fuck, so grateful—for her.
“Ah, babe,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “You will never know how sorry I am for hurting you.”
Making a choked sound, she tightened her arms around him and turned her face into the curve of his neck, then started to cry. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t try to stop her. He just hung on to her with all the love and the strength he could muster. And he let her tears heal him from the inside out.
He held her like that for a long, long time, locked in a tight embrace, trying to reassure her, trying to reassure himself. Finally, she drew a deep breath, grasping the back of his head and holding him close. “I’m sorry for hurting you too,” she whispered brokenly.
He nodded, unable to speak.
She still clung to him without any sign she was going to let go any time soon. He reveled in the feel of her body against his, trying with all his might to keep it easy and cool. “I want to apologize to you, Solace, for how I acted. For abusing you—”
“You didn’t—”
“Yes, I did, babe,” he countered firmly. “It always had to be my way—I could have done a whole lot of things two years ago to make it easier on you, and I didn’t. It was always on my terms. I was wrong. Dead wrong.” He released her and stroked her face, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “It’s time I said what has been eating at me for a long time.”
Tears gathering in her lashes, she tightened her hold, pressing her face against his neck. “I never thought I would ever hear you say that. I’m blown away.”
Grasping the back of her head and hugging her against him, the cramp in his throat got worse. He wanted to tell her how much he still loved her, but that wasn’t what this was about. This was about offering the apology she deserved.
She clung to him for a long time, then she drew a heavy breath and kissed him on the cheek. It was so electric, he gasped and sank like a stone, his defenses shot to hell.
With all the willpower and determination he possessed, he backed up several steps. She gave him a sad, winsome smile. The apology portion of this encounter was over. He needed to get out of dodge before she shot him through the heart with a fast draw he didn’t see coming.
He shifted his gaze to hers and felt as if she were sitting on his lap, her presence more than physical. She stood rock-still, her breathing quick, and he saw fear in her eyes, a bit of pleading. He took a step, then another, and he was on her in a heartbeat, pulling her flush against him. He didn’t have to seek, she was there, and he took her mouth, then took more. His relief swelled and he unleashed it, his hands mapping her contours as the kiss turned raw, primitive. She gave him so much, her tongue pushing between his lips and doing amazing things as her fingers sank into his hair. She drew him into her, dousing his doubt as her mouth molded savagely over his as he trapped her against the barracks wall, her passion flooding over him. Up until this moment, he hadn’t realized how truly dead he was inside. How deeply losing her had affected him.
This was too fast and too soon. They had so much that needed to be discussed before this went any further. He tore his mouth from hers and drew back suddenly, then he carefully laid his hands flat on the wall alongside her head. Giving in to his base instincts was more dangerous than a loaded gun. He didn’t want her for some quick fuck. He wanted…more. Fuck was he just setting himself up?
He couldn’t resist her before, and now…His breathing labored with hers as he met her gaze.
“Dammit, you bastard, you are still an amazing kisser.”
His greediness for her weakened him, and if he took what she offered, they’d be in the sack first chance, and nothing accomplished but a climax. Not that some hot sex wasn’t a good idea, but he still wanted more than that.
He separated from her with effort and clasped her hand. “Come on. I should finish walking you to your quarters.”
Not quite able to sever the connection, he held her hand as they crossed the rest of the compound and started toward her barracks. But with every step they took, her hold on his hand got tighter, and the tightness in his chest grew. He didn’t kid himself. Tonight was just tonight. What was past was past, and maybe that was all she had needed from him.
Some things had been laid to rest. She’d had the chance to say she was sorry, and he did as well. That was all good. And now maybe they could look back and remember the right things they’d shared, not the wrong things that had driven them apart. He hoped like hell that happened.
He walked her as far as he dared. Feeling as if everything was closing in on him, he stopped when he reached the base of the stairs, not wanting to step into the light spilling from the security light. He was feeling too damned exposed for anything as civilized as incandescent light. And besides, he wanted to remember her in moonlight.
Fast Lane let go of her, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. He stared at her for a minute, his heart contracting when he saw the look of dismay in her eyes. Fighting the urge to hold her one more time, he reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of one finger, then drew his thumb along her bottom lip. The look in her eyes was enough to rip his heart right out of his chest, but he knew this was the right course of action.
Feeling as if his lungs were closing up on him, he pressed his thumb against her lips, his throat suddenly thick. “Go,” he said softly.
She stared at him an instant longer, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears, then she turned and went up the steps. He stood in the shadows until he heard the door close and lock, then turned and started back toward his quarters.
When he got inside, he stripped down and got into his bunk. A wind whipped up outside and whistled through the plywood walls, howling a lonely sound. He knew how that felt.
He wished the hole in his gut would go away and wondered what in hell was the matter with him. He should be ecstatic. But he wasn’t.
She had kissed him, and everything he thought he had sorted out got all jumbled up again. He wasn’t sure what any of it meant. Maybe he should just think they could pick up a few threads of their old relationship and leave everything else behind. But he couldn’t get the feel of her mouth out of his mind. What had just happened enticed him to play big-time mind games with himself.
They could never just be friends. And there was no damned way he wanted them to be just lovers.
Looking away, he swallowed hard, his eyes suddenly burning. It was a hell of a note. He had never found anyone who came close to replacing her.
Maybe it was just releasing her guilt over filing for divorce without giving them a chance to even voice their thoughts to each other. Maybe she was subconsciously latching on for a little comfort, a little of the closeness they had once shared. Or maybe she was just acting out of a guilty conscience over the way they had parted t
wo years ago.
All he knew for sure was that everything between them was real for him. Too damned real. But he was older and wiser than he had been two years ago and understood how his action had pushed her away. But he for sure didn’t want to be blindsided by her again.
Exhaling heavily, Fast Lane dragged his hand down his face, trying to release the tension in his shoulders. Hell, he was going to drive himself crazy if he didn’t quit thinking about it. Especially when there weren’t any damned answers.
Realizing that his thoughts were heading onto dangerous ground, he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, not liking the churning in his belly. He had a very dangerous, very taxing mission to run, and he needed to separate himself from how he was feeling for Solace. She had a mission to complete as well. Maybe when it was over, they could talk some more.
He rolled over. What he needed was perspective, a very cold shower, and some quality sleep…and her.
Dammit. He needed her.
6
Solace stood staring out the briefing room window, her arms folded against the early morning chill, a cup of cold coffee clasped in her hand. She had been there since first light, and she was still as pent up today as she had been last night.
He’d kissed her.
She closed her eyes.
She’d kissed him back.
The promise she’d made to herself was broken, but had it really been solid? Would she ever be done with Ford Nixon?
Acknowledging that she had never really dealt with her feelings made it easy to forgive herself for that stupid, empty promise. She was damned unhappy, and the source of that unhappiness was Fast Lane. There had been that one instant last night—when he stared at her with that hard, unreadable look—when she would have given her soul to go back in time and change everything.
Which meant…what?
She still had feelings for her ex-husband.
It was obvious he still had feelings for her, but was it real or perceived?
Could he have the capacity to forgive her, or was that kiss some means to make up for what they had lost, seek closure?
All those years ago she had seen his anger, and his bitterness, but she had never really looked beyond that. He had told her he loved her, and he had made promises to her about their future, but deep down in her heart, her need for independence ruled everything. Had she thought he was being controlling? Or was it something else entirely, something he hadn’t been able to allow himself to admit to her, this big, bad SEAL.
He’d just come off one of the most harrowing, painful missions of his life. He’d lost men, and she had lost their baby.
Her actions back then had stemmed from emotion and fear. Now that she was distanced, she could see how she had betrayed him. If she were honest with herself, it was why she felt so sick and twisted up inside.
Did she have the capacity to explain or was it just too damn late? He would care deeply about the loss of their child. She didn’t have to guess about that at all. Fast Lane may be rough around the edges, tough to understand, and often implacable, but he cared about her and would be devastated by the news.
It made her wonder if she even wanted to open up that can of worms, subject him to the news when it had been years ago. She so didn’t want to add to his pain, but it was her pain too. Something that they shared as intimate as the act that had conceived their baby.
Experiencing a new surge of unhappiness, Solace lifted her head, trying to disconnect from the ache inside her. Being with Fast Lane had been wonderful. He had taught her things, shown her things that still made her heart race whenever she thought about them. He had been an intense and urgent lover, demanding and unrelenting, but he had also been an unbelievably tender and patient one—never once sacrificing her gratification to heighten his own. He had destroyed every misconception she had about sex, and he had shown her things that had broken down every inhibition she had. They were partners in every sense of the word…until she had let the fears buried inside overcome the love she had for him.
Fast Lane had been a very tactile lover. Big, snug embraces. Small intimate touches. The way he loved her with his eyes, the intensity so strong, it was there in the air between them. He made her feel protected and cherished, and so very much appreciated. Maybe that had all scared her so much.
Then afterward, after she had forsaken him, divorced him, it had been so painfully evident what she had lost, right from the beginning of their separation. She couldn’t count the nights that she had lain awake, feeling empty and alone, aching for his touch, that kind of physical gentleness. There were times when she couldn’t keep the loneliness at bay, when she would remember the times with Fast Lane. And the void would be so wrenching, it was like losing him all over again.
That apology, that kiss, had opened a door she thought had been permanently closed. This was new ground she was treading. Did he feel the same?
She was startled when the door opened and Fast Lane walked through. It wouldn’t be long before the room was filled with the team, the other fliers, and Rose, along with the brass and the techs who were all part of this mission.
“Good morning,” he said. His hair was ruffled by the wind, and there was a grim set to his jaw, but there wasn’t a trace of expression in his eyes.
Fast Lane was in warrior mode, as he should be. Their lives were important, but not to the detriment of the men he served with. His leadership was going to be crucial in the field and she knew without a doubt he wanted everyone home safe. “Morning,” she responded, turning her head to look out the window again, tamping down all her personal emotions and heavy thoughts. She also needed to be on point. She was an integral part of this operation.
“Did you sleep well,” he asked, coming up next to her.
She turned toward him and smiled, lifting her chin a little, deliberately keeping her gaze on his. From now going forward, she wanted to be open and honest with him. She would choose the best time to tell him about her foolish pride and about their lost child. “Yes and no.”
He laughed softly and nodded. “I hear you. Necessity.”
“Yes. Our jobs require more sacrifice than normal.”
He nodded again, a tug of wry humor lifting one corner of his mouth, and a small glint appeared in his eyes. “Keep marching,” he ordered, the glint intensifying. “I know from experience you can do it.”
That little touch of familiarity set off something warm and fuzzy in her chest, and Solace gave a soft, unsteady laugh. “Yes, sir.” She gave him a mock salute.
It surprised her, the sudden feeling of absolute ease she had with him. He had never once given her any reason to doubt him, and that feeling had somehow survived. She held his gaze for an instant, finding something strong and steady in the dark brown depths.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Dodger said as he entered the room, the rest of the guys trailing behind him. Then there was Rose and her people, Ruckus, their CO, and the SOAR team.
There was no more time to talk to Fast Lane, and they parted, each taking their seats.
The monitor flashed on, and a picture came up on the screen. “Everyone is aware what our mission is, but let me make it clear who it is we’re after and why.” Rose started off the briefing, indicating the picture of the attractive blonde, blue-eyed woman behind her. Rose’s bright eyes were full of conviction and determination. “Zasha Vasiliev aka Kelly Sparks was once a CIA officer. She betrayed every oath she took, deliberately targeting my agency to carry out a vendetta against a special operator. She murdered Kelly and took her identity, then used her position to compromise our SEALs during missions in Paraguay and Prague. In Prague, she took a CIA officer and Navy SEAL hostage, tortured them, and would have killed them if they hadn’t escaped. She and her partner sold weapons and ammunition to people who would use them in war against innocents. She attacked and murdered fifty-nine members of our special operations command at the base in Somalia, was instrumental in again taking another government agent hostage, then pro
ceeded to mine uranium.”
Another picture came up on the screen of a middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard dressed in loose top and pants. “She has strong ties to Muhammad Angar Said, a dangerous terrorist whom she assisted in Paraguay. She also was the mastermind of a five-pronged terror plan in conjunction with Angar Said to attack the West: our satellite system, Rhode’s scholars, New York Stock Exchange, Fort Bragg, and the Vatican.” She took a breath and met people’s eyes. “Our intel indicates the uranium she mined was specifically for Angar Said. They are synthesizing it to make dirty bombs, and we have every expectation they intend to use them against not only the US, but our allies.”
Ruckus, their new CO stepped up. “There are many challenges to this mission.” A map appeared on the screen highlighting a section of the province. “First off, the target is a structure in a remote part of the Nuristan Province in the Shok Valley where the terrain is treacherous: steep mountains, jagged ridgelines, boulders, loose rocks, and soft ground, making vehicles ineffective. The valley is isolated and filled with tribes that call this area home, are familiar with the terrain, and have resisted many takeovers and armies in the past. They are strong supporters of the Taliban who also have ties to Angar Said. The weather is also a factor as a blizzard can roll into the peaks without warning, making fighting conditions even more hazardous. But the most dangerous part of this mission is that we may be compromised right from the very beginning.” He folded his arms across his chest. “We have no way of knowing if Bosnian mercenaries are present with Vasiliev, but we suspect that to be true. Everyone on this team was handpicked for this op to maintain secrecy. The combined efforts of Vasiliev and Angar Said could have been and, in the case of Somalia, were deadly. If these two are not neutralized, we can expect bigger and better things from them. Angar Said is based out of Pakistan and the Pakistanis are straddling the line. They don’t want to interfere, but international pressure is forcing them to act. It’s the same old story we heard about Bin Laden.”