CHAPTER 13
Ram tried to gird himself for meeting Ali at Reagan National Airport this morning. This wasn’t going to be easy and he knew it. As he approached the area where he was to meet her, he spotted her. His heart thudded once to underscore his anxiety. She stood just outside security, watching, and evaluating his approach, but this time, he felt a different energy between them. Instead of the resistance and show of strength, she was struggling not to cry. He could literally feel Ali’s anguish, her terror, and her love for Cara.
He’d always had that ability to sense her feelings. It was a strong, invisible connection between them that appeared back on day one, when Wyatt had introduced Aliyana to the team. Ram had felt her attach to his heart and it was such an odd, foreign sensation, that it threw him off emotionally. At the time, he didn’t know what to think of it; so he feared it and fought it, not understanding what was drawing him to her.
The second shock was that he found himself wanting to enfold her into his arms, to give her comfort and protection from this terrible, ongoing tragedy.
Oh, he knew she had rejected comfort from the team they’d been on in Afghanistan and insisted on being treated like the guys—nothing more nor less. At first, her toughness turned him against her. But little by little over the time they worked together, he saw glimpses of another Aliyana, the woman he wanted so damned badly he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
His heart had been snared by her, even though she had never flirted with him or let on that she felt the same way. In fact, just the opposite happened. She’d become testy, and the only words and looks they’d shared were acrid and hostile. He felt actual pain when this happened, and yearned for the woman he knew was inside—the one that Aliyana was hiding from him.
Why couldn’t they overcome their animosity for one another? Not only was Ram frustrated and confounded by the seething feelings between them, he also realized it was he who had upset the balance and screwed things up.
Their years apart—after separating from the military when their enlistments were up—should have erased Aliyana from his mind. But it hadn’t. Instead, she’d taken permanent root in his heart and in his libido. That frustrated him even more. Why the hell couldn’t he just forget her?
No matter who he slept with, Aliyana was there between them. He imagined the soft firmness of her supple body against his, the way she might smell as a woman, the scent of great sex between them. He imagined it all until it had been written deep in his heart and body.
*
“Ali?” he said now, approaching her, holding her shadowed, grief-stricken gaze. Ram followed his heart, taking a terrible risk of being rebuffed, and opened his arms to her, a silent invitation. Would she take it? Ram doubted it, but he wanted to comfort her. “I’m sorry about Cara,” he rasped, within inches of her now.
“T-thank you . . . ” she hesitated, and then whispered, “could you hold me for just a moment?”
Ram was unprepared for her request. “Of course,” he rasped, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice. Ali walked into his arms, and without thinking, Ram drew her slowly toward him, disbelieving of what was really happening. Shock thundered through him. This wasn’t the woman he’d known before.
As he felt her arms slide hesitantly around his waist and take that necessary step forward into his embrace, accepting his comfort, he remembered the first day he’d met her. They were at Jalalabad, at the SEAL HQ, a single-story concrete building with very few windows. She had arrived with a ninety-pound duffle over her left shoulder and her M4 in her other hand, dressed in a SEAL uniform and gear. Her face was oval, amber eyes with light-brown overtones, glittering with hard intelligence. Her wide, soft mouth was thinned, her five-foot-ten-inch and one-hundred-fifty-five-pound body made him instantly think that Wonder Woman had just stepped into the room.
It was a crazy moment as the whole team stood there, more or less gawking at her, their mouths collectively dropping open because she was so stunning in every possible way. Truly, she was a woman warrior. It was written all over her, and yet, it did not hide her femininity, either.
Aliyana was one of the first women to go through SEAL BUD/S training and survive it. Ram had heard there was a small group of women who had passed through it and hadn’t rung the bell to quit. He’d heard murmurings about those who had graduated, but little else. Wyatt Lockwood said they were getting a replacement for the loss of Terry Downs, one of their team members, who had been shot in the knee during their last mission and was now stateside in recovery. His chief had not told his team that the replacement was going to be a woman.
Now, the men just sort of stood there, shell-shocked, as she entered their sacred SEAL space. And the look in her eyes—that grim, challenging look—said she wasn’t going to take any shit off any of them, either.
He remembered that first impression, the crazy way his heart and emotions reacted to her. She dropped that heavy duffle bag on the concrete floor, that M4 in a sling over her other shoulder, legs spread slightly apart, asking for directions to Chief Lockwood’s office.
Hell, he was just as tongue-tied as the rest of them over her question. Her black hair was caught up in one, long thick braid between her shoulder blades. The tendrils, however, softened the strength in her face—and she was strong, there was no question. The way she stood before them, shoulders pulled back with pride, that chin of hers lifted slightly, that confidence she owned radiating around her, the way her gaze raked over all of them, instantly evaluating them, told Ram she was no helpless female. Just the opposite.
Her skin was golden, suggesting she had Latin blood in her. It was the same tone as his own skin—his father being Mexican. It was the fierceness of her gaze, that ‘don’t-fuck-with-me’ attitude pouring off her that the team instantly got. She had high cheekbones that gave Ram pause. Her eyes were just slightly tilted, giving her an exotic look, like the fierce jaguar that roamed the mountains of Mexico, all the way down through Central and South America. She could have been a mix of American Indian as well as Hispanic blood, he surmised, his curiosity eating away at him to know so much more about her. He had a million questions for this woman who was unlike any female he’d ever met. She was earthy looking, beautiful, fierce, and a trained combatant. His whole body went on red-hot alert, mentally picturing her in bed with him, the sensuous cat-like quality of her body rubbing teasingly against his own.
Lockwood had heard all the usual noise at HQ drop suddenly into unnatural silence. He pushed out the partly opened door to his office, scowling, wondering what was going on in the main room down the passageway. Why had it become silent all of a sudden? And then Ram saw Wyatt spot Aliyana standing at the end of the hall, staring back at them.
Ram watched with fascination, as did the rest of his SEAL team, as his chief moseyed down with his Texas good ole boy slouch and introduced himself to Aliyana Montero. He’d been right because that was a Spanish surname meaning “mountain.” What his heart hummed about was her first name: Aliyana. It meant ‘beautiful girl’ in Spanish. But she wasn’t a girl. She was probably twenty-five or so, a woman with a whole lot of wisdom and life experience shining out from those wide eyes framed by long, thick black lashes. She was daunting. She was breathtaking. And right or wrong, Ram wanted her. All of her.
And maybe that’s where he got his wires crossed with Aliyana. His mother had been a white, American prostitute, a druggie since her early teens, and his out-of-wedlock father had been Mexican—and her pimp. Ram had grown up in Nogales, Mexico and was told to stay in a small hotel room while next door his mother was being banged by another john who could pay ten bucks for the privilege. The only women he’d grown up with lived in the dilapidated hotel owned by his father. The prostitutes were all druggies, and his father, Alejo Torres, had bought the hotel, herded his women into it, and enjoyed a highly profitable prostitution business. Until he’d gone to school at age six, Ram’s world orbited that hotel.
So to say the least, he was stunned by Aliyana’s stature, this warrior woman who exuded extreme confidence and chutzpah. It opened his mind and heart to new possibilities in a woman, and he found himself simultaneously repelled and attracted to her. A part of him was disgusted that she dressed like a man. Entranced by her other magical qualities, Ram found her to be intriguing and mysterious. In that moment, he thought that every SEAL in that room, even the married ones, were lusting after this woman as much as he was.
Aliyana was defiant, bold, confident and yet, her feminine qualities, although covered up, couldn’t be hidden from him. He saw right beneath that mannish uniform she wore and imagined her strong, hot body up against his. It was just about his undoing.
The fatal mistake occurred later when Chief Lockwood assigned him to be her mentor when she first arrived. Because she was of Mexican-Yaqui Indian descent, they shared a common Hispanic connection, hence the reason he’d been chosen as her mentor. Wyatt had thought he’d be the perfect SEAL to integrate Aliyana into their team because they both spoke Spanish and English and had similar backgrounds, which should have drawn them together.
Wyatt had been so damned wrong. It was like putting oil and water together and he quickly reassigned Ali to another SEAL.
And now, as Ram lightly held his arms around Aliyana’s proud shoulders, he knew their rocky relationship had been all his fault. He’d gotten off on the wrong foot with her, and this woman didn’t tolerate anyone’s shit. All the anger he’d felt toward his mother, always pushing him away, saying she didn’t have time for him, and to get his hugs from other prostitutes, had ruined him for Aliyana—who didn’t want his help, his protection, or his Neanderthal-like behavior toward her.
More than once, she’d told him he could pack what he thought about women away, and if he couldn’t treat her like an equal he could get the hell out of her face.
That hurt him deeply. He had no skills, no experience, with a woman who felt equal to men. His father, Alejo, treated his mother like little more than a slave to be beaten and ordered around. He’d grown up thinking all women were stupid, weak, and could be cowed with a fist, rage, verbal abuse, or a kick.
Only when he got into junior high did he meet girls who were nothing like his addicted mother. He began to see things differently, but had no one to check out his observations. He, too, was a prisoner at the hotel, coming home from school, doing his schoolwork, and then watching TV, or playing with his Xbox.
As Ram stood there, the past cascading into the present, shock rolled through him that Aliyana had just walked into his arms in the middle of the busy, thriving airport and silently asked him to hold her. Was this real, or one of his many wishful fantasies about her over the years? Just the way she lay her cheek against his chest shot bolts of pleasure through his body. This was real! Her black hair tickled the area beneath his jaw. He could smell the fragrance of her jasmine shampoo, and his spirits soared as she came to him as an equal, saying nothing, only showing him with her actions that she was willing to be held and comforted by him.
Only when Ram felt the warmth of her tears on his t-shirt did it bring home the depth of her anguish over her sister’s capture. Wanting to tighten his arms around her to give her respite from all of the pain she was experiencing, Ram cautioned himself to do nothing more. He felt so tenuous and unsure. They were both three years older. He was more mature, thankfully, and could now see how absurd his previous views of women had been. And much had been because of Aliyana as a force in his life. Could it be that Ali, too, had matured, and felt less antagonistic aggravation toward him?
Ram forced himself to relax as her arms tightened a little more around his waist. She seemed as if she were trying to hide from the pain she carried. He wanted desperately to give her solace, to finally be a haven of peace and caring, instead of being angry and caustic. He dragged in a long, ragged breath, daring not to move.
Aliyana had come to him willingly. Why? What had changed other than her sister’s captivity? Ram wasn’t sure. He had so many questions for her but he bit them back, saying nothing. It wasn’t the right time.
Ram knew people walking by would see them, but he didn’t care. God help him, he wanted to protect Ali at any cost. He fought back a smile—it was a good thing she couldn’t read his mind. He had tried once to explain his need to protect her, but she’d been resentful, making sure he understood that was never going to happen. “I feel suffocated by you!” she’d flung back heatedly.
At the time, Ram had become just as indignant over the suggestion that his caring was like a prison. It wasn’t until years later, after he’d separated from the Navy, that he woke up one night and got it. His mother had been a prisoner of his father. So had he. In fact, Ram had known nothing else until he went across the border to the US to attend high school in Nogales, Arizona. The two cities had once been one, but as the border became a dividing line, it became two separate cities living elbow-to-elbow with one another. Because his mother was American, he had American citizenship by birth and was allowed to be schooled in the US and received a better education. He’d always been ashamed of his upbringing and had never spoken to anyone about it. The humiliation was just too much for Ram to bear. He didn’t want to be labeled a pimp’s son or a prostitute’s kid. That knowledge in the hands of others would just be too much to deal with.
Ram was nothing like either of his parents. He actually didn’t know what it was like to have his mother or father hug and kiss him. He’d seen other parents kiss their kids, and that had opened his eyes to the toxic environment he’d managed to survive for eighteen years.
Neither parent showed up for his high school graduation, and he tried to swallow the hurt and grief as he observed other kids’ parents celebrating their children’s accomplishments. The next morning, he’d walked down to the Navy recruiter’s office in Nogales, Arizona, signed up, and never looked back.
And it wasn’t until he left the Navy and worked for the DEA as an undercover agent, that Ram began to put the final pieces of the puzzle of his life together.
But for this exquisite moment of actually holding Ali in his arms, her tears wetting his t-shirt, his heart and fractured soul soared on wings toward a dream he had never dared imagine. He felt her tremble a little, and he tightened his arms just a bit more to let her know she was safe in his arms.
Closing his eyes for a moment, blocking out all the sounds of people around them, his chin resting lightly on her soft, silky hair, he absorbed her into him like a voraciously starved animal. All those years with Ali he’d dreamed of holding her. Now, he was facing the possibility of a new kind of relationship—one he’d wanted with her all along.
But what timing! They were about to begin a life-and-death mission together to try and rescue Cara and the other victims of a dangerous drug dealer. Never had life been so sweet and more fragile to Ram than right now. He knew they could both die on this op and Ram would never have more than this with Ali.