Under Fire

The ringing in her ears grew louder by the second, so loud it almost drowned out Disco’s light snores from across the room, where he sprawled asleep in front of the door. She stared out the half-open miniblinds at the shifting shadows outside. A squat palm tree shook like a pom-pom in the wind. A welcome flag flapped from a porch rail.



And a reed-thin figure sat in the A-frame swing in the front yard. The guard, pretending to be hanging around outside for a smoke. A tiny red light moved from side to side with each puff. Not a bad cover, so those passing by wouldn’t notice anything out of the way. Did the neighborhood realize exactly what this house was used for? Of course the same question could be asked of any safe house in any community—military or civilian.



Liam had come through for her. She was safe and Brandon’s concerns were being investigated. Brandon would be looked after.



And who would look after Liam?



Her eyes slid closed as she thought back to their kiss in the Jeep, so much better to think about than what they’d been through that led them to the kiss. The way he had of distracting her from everything was scary and tantalizing. Always had been, even back when she’d first known him during those frenetic weeks in the Bahamas…



An aftershock rattled the ground clear up through her toes until it rattled her teeth and her nerves after an endless day on the pile, searching for survivors in the rubble. She tossed down her toiletries, tossing aside all hopes of a bath as well. She snagged up Disco’s leash and he trotted into step alongside her as she ran for the door, bursting out onto the beach cabin porch, down the steps.



The narrow street filled with rescue workers and locals, pouring from the houses left standing—or half standing. The structure next door tilted at an angle toward the seaside cliff. And big buff guys pushed through the door, angling sideways to get out ASAP.



Big buff guys wearing nothing but towels, shower time apparently interrupted.



Her eyes locked on one guy in particular. The major she’d met earlier, when she’d first arrived. The ground settled under her feet and she breathed easy enough to allow herself a more leisurely look. She didn’t date or even hook up very often, but this guy had been a serious temptation from the get-go, even fully clothed in grimy camo.



And now, seeing him in nothing more than an insubstantial bit of white terry cloth? Ho-ly cow, he was hot, hot, hot at a time when she could seriously use a distraction. His dark blond hair was even browner, glistening wet from a shower. His chest was like carved bronze muscle. He seemed totally unself-conscious that he stood in the middle of the road wearing nothing more than leather flip-flops and a towel.



She couldn’t resist teasing him, since she didn’t dare touch him. Not out here, and not before she figured out if he was affair material.



“Lose your clothes, Major?” She stood beside her black Lab, leash in hand. Her grimy cargo pants and body-hugging T-shirt stuck to her after a long day working.



Her dog started sniffing the edge of Liam’s towel suspiciously, all seventy pounds of pooch tensed, hackles rising along the canine’s spine.



“It’s not my clothes I’m worried about right now, ma’am. Think you can get your dog to let go of my towel?”



“Disco?” She thumbed the clicker in her hand and her dog dropped to his haunches. “Good boy.”



“Thanks.”



“And Major?”



“Yeah?”



“You may want to invest in a larger towel.” She clapped him on his bare shoulder matter-of-factly before striding past, toward the cabana next door.



His eyes lingered on her the whole way. She could feel his stare, feel how still he stood rooted to the spot for a solid five seconds, watching her walk away. Her ponytail, gathered high and haphazardly on top of her head, swished with each step, teasing her shoulders like a phantom touch. The way she imagined Liam’s touch would be if she indulged…



Groaning, Rachel hugged the pillow tighter against an ache that had started growing six months ago. She’d convinced herself he was the kind of guy she could have an affair with, some uncomplicated, easy sex. Except then he’d shocked the hell out of her by saying he was falling in love with her.



As if she believed that. His track record with women didn’t bode well for longevity. Which should have been a plus, but there was something so… intense and real in his eyes, in spite of his jokes and grins. The things he’d shared with her tonight, the intensity and hurt in his voice, had made her question her preconceived notions about how he charmed his way through chicks. Even now, she could feel the tension rippling through him as she sat pressed to his side. He confused her and aroused her and tugged at her heart all at once.



She knew one thing for sure. Nothing with Liam would ever be uncomplicated or easy.



***



Scanning the street, Liam approached Sylvia on the swing with a low whistle to alert her he was approaching. Wouldn’t want her to shoot him, even though she was the one who’d texted him to come outside.



Leaving Rachel made him nervous, but he had her bedroom window in sight. And honestly, he needed a breather from the way Rachel had of prying out the deep-down crap from his past. He’d had enough spilling his guts for one night. Right now, he welcomed the fresh air and the chance to talk to Sylvia without a legion of agents crawling around the office. It was all about work now, and in that realm, he felt comfortable, in control.



“Just me,” he announced. “Mind if I join you?”



An innocuous enough statement for anyone who might be listening.



Sylvia waved to the seat beside her, cigarette tip swirling a red glow. “Please.”



The swing creaked as he sat. “Thought you were going to quit smoking.”



“I have. Used the patch for six months. Have kept to it for four months since. For the most part. I only indulge myself on special missions like this.” She drew in on the cigarette and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “Stress reliever.”



“How often do those sorts of occasion roll around, to snatch a smoke?”



“Not as often as my nicotine craving would like.” She turned to him with a smile, cigarette between two manicured fingers. “But let’s not talk about that. You’re ruining a perfectly good and unhealthy nicotine moment.”



She drew in hard again on the filter, the red tip glowing brighter. Exhaling slowly, she tipped her head back, blowing smoke skyward—and politely away from him. She flicked the extra ash into an ashtray in her lap next to her service pistol.



“Aren’t you a little overqualified for this kind of guard duty?”



She laughed softly. “Are you insinuating I’ve gone soft from too long out of the field?”



“Doubtful. You could probably kill me five different ways just using your pinkies.”



“Only four.”



He laughed along with her this time. “Why did we never hook up long term?”



“I’m against marriage. You’re against one-night stands. We reached an impasse by dessert on our first date. And then there was that lack of zing between us.”



“You’re a sexy woman. You know that, right?”



“So I’ve been told. And you’re a hot man. But you’re also a dim one when it comes to picking women. So I’ll stick with handling my own relationships, thank you very much.”



Great. He leaned back, elbows hooked on the back of the swing. “Appreciate the news flash about my skills in the love life department. But I gotta tell ya, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist—or professional profiler—to figure that out.”



“Then quit hitting on me to self-destruct what you’re feeling for Rachel Flores.” She pulled a last drag off the cigarette before stubbing it out in her ashtray.



“Now I remember why I never date anyone with a psychology degree.”



Again, he fell into easy laughter with her—and stopped short as a car started two doors down. He tensed in sync with Sylvia. His hand went to his Desert Eagle strapped to his waist as her hand covered her 9 mm.



Setting aside the ashtray, she stood abruptly. “Walk with me.”



“What?”



Her eyes pinned him. “Please, walk with me. Just to the end of the driveway.”



He eased to his feet, looking from Rachel’s window to Sylvia, then back again.



“Keep smiling and simply listen,” she said quietly, her head dipped as she walked toward the end of the driveway, her high heels clicking along the concrete. “I have thirty-eight seconds to talk before the replacement guard pulls in two doors down and wonders why I’ve taken you out of range of the microphones.”



What the hell? “I’m listening.”



She stopped at the curb and hooked her hands on his shoulders as if the two of them were hanging out romantically in the moonlight. As if she believed they might actually be watched. “Get Rachel Flores and get the hell out of here. Trust no one,” she hissed. “Not even the people working with me. If you can get to Brandon Harris, bonus points for you. Hide him. Use all the evasion training you’ve ever picked up along the way in this crazy-ass life we lead and disappear. And for God’s sake don’t tell anyone, not even me, where you are.”



Careful to maintain her cover of acting like a couple, he palmed her waist, finding her muscles as tensed as his own. “How long am I supposed to drop out of sight and how do I know to trust you?”



“Stay out of the way until the international summit is complete. I’ll take care of filing leave papers on your behalf. Your team will bring in a replacement leader for your little dog and pony show. No one will suspect a thing. And as for trusting me, you already know. Because if I wanted you dead”—she waggled her pinky against his jugular—“well, you’d already be cold.”



And he believed her, absolutely. He’d looked in her eyes, using his own training to search for lies and tells. She was telling the truth about his need to leave this house, to hide Rachel and find Brandon Harris. She’d been honest about her intention to set up a cover for him when he left.



As for the rest of it… Was it the right thing to stay gone until the summit? That, he didn’t know, and he sure as hell wasn’t leaving his team hanging out here alone, twisting in the wind.



He slid his hands up her sides and into her hair, playing right along with her scenario of a couple stealing time alone. “Just one more thing.”



“You have ten seconds.” She nodded curtly. “So talk fast.”



“Sylvia, I’m sorry.” Because he had two fingers poised and ready for a good old-fashioned nerve pinch to the neck to knock her out cold for at least ten or fifteen minutes. He hoped. With luck, she would play it out longer before calling it in, since she wanted them off base ASAP.



Sylvia collapsed unconscious into his arms without the least hint of trouble.



Scooping her up, he stayed right on track with the whole romantic-couple gig. But moving fast, which also worked if a guy was really intent on getting the woman inside and he needed to do that before the replacement guard showed.



If she was completely legit, it was best she didn’t know the details of how he would clear out with Rachel. And if Sylvia was following her own agenda? Then he intended to make sure she knew as little as possible about how he left this place.



Honest or not? He would figure that part out later.



Either way, right now, he had to wake up Rachel and disappear.



Chapter 8



The earthquake rumbled again, rattling Rachel’s bed.



She pushed through the layers of fog, desperate to wake up and make her way to safety before the roof caved in on top of her. She needed to get underneath the furniture or to a doorway.



Except none of that made sense, because she wasn’t in the Bahamas anymore. She was in Florida now, rebuilding her life and her nerves.



But she could swear Liam was with her, the scent of him, the intense energy he brought into a room. Something that hadn’t changed in six months apart, something that haunted her dreams.