Where the hell had Shea sent them? The city? WTF?
Nate stopped for a red light. Thankfully, they’d driven all day and night had fallen, offering some protection.
Kahruba was the second largest city in the Azbakastan. Second only to the capitol city of Bahodir. Blending in would be tougher than other places. Parts of Kahruba still held on to the traditions of making the women cover themselves with a Burqa when out in public. But, an American man, no matter how full his beard, with an Azbak woman would raise flags.
The light turned green and he followed the GPS prompt toward the first destination. Shea had sent an encrypted file with instructions. Getting Macy to a safe house where they would meet a horse exporter named Osman was the first order of business. From there shit got sticky. He hoped to hell Shea’s contacts were legit and didn’t turn them in to the authorities when they saw who Macy was. Not that he didn’t trust Shea—she’d come through when Quinn needed her help getting out of the country. But, she had a history with Kell—a damn painful one—and he couldn’t be certain of her motives.
Didn’t matter. Shea was their only hope of getting home at this point.
A few turns and stops later he arrived at a gated house. Not at all what he’d expected of a CIA safe house. He rolled down the window and an accented voice came through the speakers attached to the keypad.
“May I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mr. Green.” Nate repeated the secure phrase Shea had given him.
“One moment.”
After a couple tense minutes the gate opened and Nate drove through. The driveway circled around to a sprawling home that looked more like a mosque. Two men came out to meet him. One was native Azbak, the other looked American with his lighter colored hair and eyes.
The Azbak man opened Nate’s door and stood aside to let him climb out. He towered over the man by at least a foot, but he didn’t miss the M-4 strapped across his chest.
The American stepped forward and held out a hand. “I’m Mr. Green.” Clearly, not his real name. “You can call me Joe.”
Nate nodded, shaking his hand.
“Bet you’re tired after your long journey. Follow me and we’ll get you settled.”
Joe motioned to the other man who immediately opened the back door of Nate’s car.
Panic shot through Nate’s chest and he lunged for the man before he could touch Macy.
Joe caught his arm. “Hold on there. Salim can get your luggage.”
The intense look in Joe’s eyes made Nate hang back. He knew that look. It meant, ‘shut the hell up and play along in case there were eyes or ears on them.’ With effort, Nate backed off Salim as he lifted the ‘luggage’ out of the car and shouldered Nate’s pack. The weight didn’t appear to affect him at all. Stronger than he looked.
Joe led the way into the house. As expected, the inside was as elaborate as the outside. Colors surrounded him. Blinding, honestly.
“You look like you could use a shower and a good night’s rest. Salim will show you to your room.”
“I’d rather—”
Joe held up a hand in warning. “Salim, show our guest to his room.”
The quiet man nodded and led Nate down a hallway covered in glazed tiles that nearly shimmered in the light. They took another hallway and Salim opened a door on the left. He walked through, Nate hot on his heels.
Salim turned and held Macy out to Nate. A sense of relief filled him when she was safely in his arms again.
After setting Nate’s pack on the shiny floor, Salim said, “If you need anything, there is a phone next to your bed. Just pick it up and someone will answer.” Before he turned to go he pressed something into Nate’s palm. With a slight nod he left the room, the door closing quietly behind him.
Macy stirred in his arms. Miracle of miracles her pretty blue eyes opened and met his briefly before scanning the room. “Where in God’s name are we?”
****
Macy looked around the lavish bedroom. She felt like she’d been run over by a convoy of trucks. There wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t hurt.
The last thing she remembered was crawling into their uncomfortable tent.
This was not the tent.
She met Nate’s gaze and wanted to cry when she saw emotion shining in his. Relief. Fear. Exhaustion. And, something she couldn’t read.
“Nate?” She said, cupping his cheek that was coarse with days of stubble. She saw his Adams apple bob as he swallowed hard. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
Clearly, it wasn’t. Just what had happened while she slept?
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Sixty-three hours.”
“Three days?” Good Lord, she hadn’t expected that.
“Nearly.”
Trying to wrap her head around that she let her hand slip off his face. That explained the beard. “Are we safe?” Her voice came out a low whisper.
“For the moment.”
Thank God. She wasn’t up for another round of dry, empty desert mountain terrain and unbearable heat. “Where are we?”
“Kahruba.”
Her brows flew up. “The city? Are you crazy?” She struggled to be free. They had to go before someone recognized her.
Nate’s arms tightened around her. “We’re in a CIA safe house. No one knows we’re here.”
CIA? Safe house? What kind of connections did this man have?
She looked around the extraordinary room again. Against the far wall sat an extravagant circular bed covered in flowing white sheets. Sheer curtains drifted over tall windows. Blessed air conditioning.
And…
“Oh my God. Is that a bathroom?” She closed her eyes, got dizzy, and opened them again. Yep, still there. Not a cruel dream. She hadn’t had a real shower or slept in a soft bed in over six weeks. Her body actually ached to feel clean water and silk sheets.
Emotions threatened but she held them back. Too much. Too fast.
Then Nate spoke and she fell nearly over the edge for him. “How about a bath and bed?”
All she could manage was a nod. Nate strode to the circular sectional sofa and gently set her on it.
“Give me five minutes.”
She watched him stroll into the bathroom, lean over the Jacuzzi tub and turn on the water. As it filled she saw him open a folded piece of paper he must have been holding in his hand. After reading it, he flushed it down the toilet, his face an unreadable mask.
Later, she’d ask him who it was from and what it said. Right now, she wanted to immerse herself in that tub.
Unable to wait any longer, she tore off her shirt and threw it on the floor. No bra. Good. Less to remove.
Carefully, she rose to her feet, mindful of her injury. It hurt, but not like before. The heat and throbbing were gone.
Somehow, she managed to remove her pants. No undies either. Curious. The thought immediately left her head when she saw Nate strip out of his black vest.
He looked over and saw her limping toward him, fully naked, and unashamed. Wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked before. When he took a step toward her, she held up a hand to stop him and hobbled over to where he stood. Without speaking, she helped him remove the remainder of his clothes. He laid his gun on the vanity.
Their eyes met. She didn’t know what she expected to see in his, but it wasn’t the warm look of appreciation. Like he’d never seen a woman more beautiful.
That one look almost undid her. It took every ounce of her strength to hold it together because she never thought a man would look at her like that again. She was broken. Damaged, like Lady Jane.
Before she could let that sink in, Nate swept her into his arms and stepped into the tub. Slowly, he sank down into the water until they were both immersed. She sat between his legs, his chest against her back.
A sigh escaped her lips as hot water rose nearly to her chin. With Nate’s powerful, muscular body behind her and silky water surrounding her, she was sure she’d died and gone to heaven.
Until Nate picked up a washcloth from the stack of linens on the side of the tub and began washing her with it. Slow, languid movements that washed away everything she’d been through. He used spicy scented soap that reminded her of incense.
When he’d cleaned every inch of her, he poured shampoo into his hands and began massaging her head. Macy moaned as his strong fingers rubbed her scalp until it tingled.
After a thorough washing he pushed her head under water to rinse. She surfaced, feeling like a new woman.
“Your turn.” She said, glancing at the glass-doored shower. With her wound, she couldn’t turn around and sit on her knees. The shower, however, would work perfectly. “Into the shower, sailor.”
Nate’s arm slipped around her chest, just above her breasts. Close to her ear, he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He shifted his erection pressing against her bottom.
Macy smiled, fighting the emotions rushing to the surface. He would never know how good he made her feel. It empowered her. Healed her. Enforced her attraction for him. If she’d learned one thing during this ordeal, it was to live life in the moment because you never knew if it was your last.
She rested her chin on his corded forearm. “I want to do this.” The words slipped out. Even she wasn’t sure what she meant.
Nate’s forehead dropped into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, his breath warm against her skin. “We don’t have much time here. You need to rest and heal.”
Although she’d slept three days she still felt like she could sleep three more. But, she wouldn’t push him. In truth, she was so discombobulated right now she didn’t know up from down.
As if reading her thoughts, Nate swept her into his arms, stepped out of the tub, wrapped her in a giant towel and put her to bed. Effectively making the decision for both of them. He tucked her in, kissed her forehead and returned to the shower. Her eyes drifted closed with the image of his rock-hard body in her head.
****
Nate braced a hand on the wall of the shower and lowered his head to let the jet spray pound away the lust ripping through his body. Lust he had no right to feel. Macy didn’t deserve it and he couldn’t risk it. Falling for his charge had worked out in the end for Quinn, but not without consequences. Deadly consequences.
Avery had suffered three days of captivity and torture and she was still healing. Macy had suffered six weeks. That kind of trauma would leave scars for life. PTSD for sure. Macy hadn’t even begun dealing with what she’d been through. He understood her need to keep the past at bay until they were safely back home and she was safe to face it. It was easier to bury the pain. Pretend it didn’t exist.
He knew first-hand about that. Sometimes he’d rather bury the grief he felt over losing a brother. A brother and brother-in-arms. He’d lost teammates before, but never a sibling.
Thinking of his brother worked to douse his hunger for Macy. Helped him put things back in perspective. Focus on the mission. This was a very temporary reprieve. The note Salim had passed him reinforced that. They were safe for the next few hours but a crapstorm was coming and they were going to be right in the middle of it.
He scrubbed the sweat and grime from his hair and body before getting out, wrapping in a towel and returning to the bedroom. He dressed quickly and slid into bed next to Macy. She made a small sound and rolled up next to him, curling her body around his.
Nate pulled her in closer, inhaling the spicy scent of her hair and skin. Something tightened in his chest. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she had scared the crap out of him when she didn’t wake up in the car. Hell, he’d been ready to perform CPR.
The only explanation he had was that the woman from the village gave Macy something to make her sleep. He refused to think of the alternatives. She was conscious now, her leg healing amazingly well, and that was all that mattered. His growing feelings for her were of no importance.
Not if he wanted to keep them alive.
That was going to take all of his focus and energy.