“I guess that’s what sets you apart, why you’re so good at what you do.”
“When I was a new reporter straight out of college, I was sent with a cameraman to a house where a father had just run over and killed his own eighteen-month-old daughter. He’d been pulling out of the driveway on his way to work and didn’t know that she’d gotten outside. She died before they reached the hospital. My job was to stake out the house and try to get an interview with him or the child’s mother.
“When I got there, the place was already surrounded by reporters and photographers. They stood in the driveway, on the sidewalk in front of the house, and spilled into the street. After a few hours, the parents returned from the hospital to find that they couldn’t even get into their own driveway. They ended up having to park down the street and walk through a media gauntlet to their own front door.
“The mother was so grief-stricken she could barely walk. And the reporters—they didn’t seem to care. They kept shouting questions. ‘When did you realize you’d run over your daughter?’ ‘Where were you in the house when you heard that your husband had run over your daughter?’ ‘Did your little girl scream or cry out?’ ‘Was she alive when you discovered her under your vehicle?’
“I was so sick to my stomach, so disgusted, that I didn’t ask a single question. I got back to the station with nothing. I almost got fired that day, but I didn’t care. I made up my mind that night never to accept an assignment that I felt compromised my integrity.”
He ran his knuckles over her cheek, wondering what he’d done to deserve this time with her. “I’ve never known anyone like you,
bella
.”
His cell phone buzzed.
“Hey, McBride, what’s up?”
“Tower has regained consciousness. You said you wanted to be there when we questioned him. I can have Childers there in ten to watch over Laura if you want to come along.”
“I’ll be ready.”
* * *
LIGHT, PAIN, AND
noise seemed to crash in on Derek all at once—a steady beep, a mechanical sound like breathing, and voices.
A sea of women’s faces. Were they nurses?
“Is your pain under control?”
“This IV has started to infiltrate. We’re going to insert a new one in your other arm, okay? You’ll feel a little prick.”
“If you don’t stop thrashing, we’re going to have to sedate you!”
He was in the hospital, but he had no idea why. He couldn’t speak, could barely open his eyes. He drifted in and out, lost somewhere between oblivion and a world of clashing sounds and bright, blazing lights.
And then there were other voices, men’s voices.
“I’m Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal Zach MacBride, and I need to ask you a few questions about the shooting that put you in this bed. Can you understand me?”
So Derek had been shot. That explained a few things. It must have been bad for him to be in this kind of shape.
He nodded.
“Can you write your name for us?”
He felt a pencil in his hand. He spelled it out—
D-E-R-E-K.
He opened his eyes, men’s faces swimming in and out of focus. He thought he recognized them, but he couldn’t remember.
“Can you remember who shot you?”
So he had been shot. Yes, he’d been shot. They’d just told him that.
What was the last thing he remembered before this place?
He’d been waiting. Yes, he’d been waiting in his car. He’d been waiting for someone . . . He’d waited for a long time. He’d had to get there early because he’d wanted to be in position in case anyone showed up.
“Mr. Tower, can you remember who shot you? It’s very important that you try.”
Images slid through his mind. A parking garage. The sky. A building down below. The weapon in his hand.
“Why were you at the parking garage, Mr. Tower?”
A parking garage. Yes, he’d been at a parking garage. He’d been waiting.
“He’s completely out of it. We’re not going to get a damned thing from him.”
“We’ve got to try. In a few minutes, they’re going to send us away. Try to remember, Tower. Remember who shot you, and spell his name.”
Spell his name?
D-E-R-E-K.
“Hey, Tower.” This one sounded angry. “Who tried to kill Laura Nilsson?”
Laura Nilsson.
He felt a spark of adrenaline, his eyes coming open.
The little bitch had refused to meet with him. He’d needed to speak with her about her abduction, to find out whom she’d had contact with in the weeks prior. But she’d gotten a restraining order. She’d thought he was trying to kill her, but it wasn’t him. He needed her. He needed her alive, and so he’d gone to the parking garage.
One second it seemed to make sense, and the next . . .
A man with short, dark hair and angry brown eyes was leaning over him, his hand giving Derek’s an impatient squeeze. “Who tried to kill Laura Nilsson? Spell his name. That same person shot you, man.”
But Derek didn’t know the shooter’s name. He couldn’t even remember his face. So he spelled the first thing that came into his mind.
F-U-C-K Y-O-U.
CHAPTER
26
LAURA KNEW THINGS
hadn’t gone well with Derek the moment she saw Javier’s face. “He wouldn’t tell you anything.”
Javier shook his head. “Either he’s still too out of it, or he doesn’t want to cooperate. He managed to write his own name twice and then spelled
fuck you
.”
The little bubble of hope that Laura had carried inside her since Zach’s call popped. She wanted so much for this to be over. By answering their questions, Tower could have made that happen. “Maybe he’ll be more alert tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Javier tossed his jacket onto the chair and drew her into his arms. “Come here. I think it’s bedtime.”
She glanced at the clock and saw it was nine. “It’s too early for me to go to sleep.”
He lowered his voice. “Oh,
bella
, who said anything about sleep? Now, where did we leave off?”
All it took was one look from him, and her blood began to heat. “I think we were at twelve.”
“That’s right. A dirty dozen. Now for lucky thirteen.” He grinned, planted a kiss on her mouth. “Follow me.”
Soon the two of them were sharing a tub filled with steaming hot water. He reached for her shaving gel and her razor.
Her pulse spiked. “What do you think you’re doing with those?”
“Just watch.” He filled his palm with lather, then rose to his knees and began to shave himself, slowly and carefully removing the hair around the base of his penis and on his testicles, leaving himself smooth.
Laura watched, both fascinated and more than a little aroused. She’d never watched this process before, never had a lover who’d gone all the way with manscaping, never watched a man handle himself so casually. And it turned her on.
He rinsed the foamy gel away to reveal his half-hard cock. She never would have asked him or any other man to do this, but now that he had, she kind of liked it. Somehow it made him seem . . . bigger. The skin of his pubic area and testicles was darker than the rest of his body, the sight of his bare package deeply erotic.
He tossed the razor cartridge and put on a new one. “Now I’m going to take care of you.”
“Me?” Her belly clenched.
He had her stand with first one leg raised on the side of the tub and then the other, his shaving her becoming an act of foreplay. The stroke of the razor over sensitive skin. The pressure of his fingers as he held her skin taut. Hot water as he rinsed her again and again. And what he was saying to her . . .
“I want to taste you so bad. I want to bury my tongue inside you.”
She barely had the patience to wait for him to finish, but standing as she was, her balance precarious, his hands between her thighs with a razor, his face so close she felt the heat of his breath on her inner thighs, all she could do was hold on.
When he’d rinsed her one last time, he scooped her into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers as he carried her to her bed in long, fast strides. He tossed her onto the mattress, grabbed her ankles, and dragged her toward him until her hips cleared the edge of the bed, forcing her legs apart. And then his mouth was on her.
“Oh,
yes
!”
This
was the Javier she remembered.
She dug her fingers into his hair, so aroused by these exquisite new sensations that she found herself already hovering on the edge. Bare like this, every inch of her vulva was available for him to lick and nip and taste. He drew her glossy pink labia into the scorching heat of his mouth, tugged and sucked on her aching clit, teased her entrance with the tip of his tongue until she thought she would come apart. And then she shattered, orgasm singing through her, leaving her breathless and trembling.
She felt the mattress shift as Javier stretched out beside her. She opened her eyes, smiled at him, then rolled onto him and slid down his body and off the bed, coming to rest on her knees on the floor. “I want to make you feel good—just as good as you made me feel.”
He sat up, his erect cock bobbing as he shifted, his gaze locked with hers. He reached out, traced a finger down her cheek. “Oh, I know you will.”
Without breaking eye contact, she licked him a few times, base to swollen tip, and heard his breath leave him in a slow exhale. Certain his newly shaved skin would be just as sensitive as hers, she lowered her mouth to the root of his cock, kissing and licking him there. He stiffened, his body jerking when her tongue slid over the bare skin of his testicles, his reaction encouraging her. She took them into her mouth one at a time, teasing their underside with her tongue, feeling them draw tight.
Javier’s breath caught, his fingers sliding into her hair.
She sat up taller and went to work on him with her tongue, circling the engorged head, flicking its satiny tip, her fingers encircling him, stroking him lazily. But he was just as impatient as she had been. She followed his cues, sliding her mouth and hand as one up and down the length of him, moving faster, increasing the pressure, and bringing him to a quick finish in her hand, his hips jerking off the bed as he came.
He fell back onto his pillow, his chest heaving, his fingers still tangled in her hair. And there he lay, spent.
Laura wiped off her hand, then handed him the box of tissues, gratified to see that she’d managed to exhaust him the way he so often exhausted her. There was nothing quite like a sex coma. She was about to lie down beside him when her cell phone rang.
Erik.
The home visit.
She ran to the living room where she’d left her phone, answering on the fourth ring, questions darting through her mind. Had they been able to get Klara’s DNA? Had Klara seemed healthy and well fed? Had they been able to vaccinate her?
“This is Laura.”
“Hi, Laura. Yesterday was the day of the scheduled home visit.”
“How was it? What happened?”
“A consular official and one of our doctors went with two Pakistani officials to the home.” Erik paused. “And they were gone. They had disappeared—the whole extended family. The house was empty.”
“What?”
Laura’s heart began to pound, her pulse beating against her eardrums.
“I’m sorry, Laura, but they have vanished. Their neighbors say they haven’t seen them for a few days, and no one knows where they’ve gone. They must have left immediately after our last contact.”
“Can’t the police find them and detain them? They can’t just vanish.”
“You know what it’s like there. It took us more than two years to find them when they were in Islamabad. If they’ve fled to the countryside or crossed into Afghanistan, we might not be able to locate them again.”
“No.” Laura shook her head, panic making her nauseated. “No, that can’t be. I can’t lose her, Erik. I can’t lose her.”
“I’m very sorry, Laura. I know how much this meant to you. You must be devastated. But she is missing, and we don’t have any idea where they took her.”
This couldn’t be happening. It could
not
be happening.
Laura fought to hold herself together. “I understand. Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“We will start searching at once, of course. We have already filed a complaint with the Pakistani government and are demanding action.”
“Thank you.”
“I told you at the beginning this would be a very hard fight. It seems it will continue to be a fight for some time to come. Good night, Laura.”
Laura disconnected the call and slid slowly to the floor.
* * *
WEARING A PAIR
of flannel pajama bottoms, Javier stood in the bedroom door watching. He hadn’t understood a word Laura had said, but he knew the call hadn’t brought good news. He went to her where she sat huddled naked on the floor, took a throw off the couch, and wrapped it around her bare shoulders, reaching over to turn on the fireplace so she wouldn’t get cold.
She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes, the panic on her face echoing the expression she’d had the night he’d rescued her. “They took my little girl. They disappeared. No one knows where they went or where she is.”
¡Puñeta!
Fuck! Son of a bitch!
The news hit Javier with the force of a bullet. He wanted to hit something, wanted to rip Al-Nassar’s balls off, wanted to kill. What kind of stupid, dick-faced, baby-raping, jihadist piece of shit would kidnap an innocent newborn and do everything possible to keep her from her mother?
Heart thrumming, he drew a couple of deep breaths, fighting to get his shit under control so he could be there for Laura. He drew her onto the couch beside him and held her. “I’m so sorry,
bella
.”
“They have to find her. If they don’t . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled away from him. “This is my fault. If I had been stronger . . . If I’d believed what I knew in my heart, that Klara was mine . . . If I’d taken her from Safiya when I’d run or told the SEALs about her . . . But I didn’t. She’s two years old, and she’s lived every one of those days as a captive.”
“Laura, you
can’t
blame yourself for this.”
But she wasn’t listening.
She stood and took a step toward the fire. “If they don’t find her and bring her back, she might never learn to read. She might spend years of her life hungry. She could get polio or tetanus. I’ve seen little girls married off to men in their thirties and forties when they were only nine years old.
Oh, God!
”
Javier had spent enough time in Pakistan and Afghanistan to know that Laura’s fears for her child were real. Disease and hunger were a part of life for too many people there. Little girls faced the added burden of child marriage, too many of them forced to have children with men they didn’t love when they themselves were still children. The thought of Laura’s child enduring any of this made him sick.
But he couldn’t let Laura take the blame for this on her shoulders.
He rose, caught her face between his palms, and forced her to meet his gaze, knowing she was on the brink of true panic. “Listen to me. This is
not
your fault.”
“I left her, Javier. I turned my back on her, and I left her—my own baby!”
“They took her from you the moment she was born. You never got to hold her. They did their best to brainwash you into believing she wasn’t yours. You didn’t even remember you’d had a baby until later. They’re to blame for this, not you.”
She shook her head. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
He switched tactics. “Okay, fine. It’s your fault—all of it. Why don’t you explain to me what you should’ve done better?”
She gaped at him for a moment, and then her face crumbled. “I should have realized I was having a baby. I shouldn’t have let them take her from me.”
“I’m betting that having a baby hurts a helluva lot, but if you’d have been stronger, maybe you could have fought the two of them off between contractions or some shit, right? Or if you weren’t able to do that, you could have at least dug deep, toughed out the hemorrhaging, and gone after her.”
Laura glared at him. “When you say it like that—”
“Hey, I’m just speaking the truth here. So tell me, what else should you have done? Out with it. I want to hear.”
She turned her gaze away from him. “I should have taken Klara when I ran. If I had just pulled her from Safiya’s arms—”
“You think that crazy bitch who tried to stab you might have noticed a move like that? Do you think Al-Nassar’s other wives might have noticed? You said they were holding you back, that they left bruises on your arms trying to control you. Could be they’d have slit your throat right there or slipped that knife between your ribs. Could be they’d have fought you and torn that little baby girl to pieces.”
She glared at him. “At the very least, I could have told the tall SEAL, the one who carried me onto the chopper, that I had a baby. I could have remembered her and asked for his help. The women were so afraid of the operators that they’d have done whatever he said.”
Javier nodded. “Well, there is that. Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Because . . .” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Because I didn’t remember. I . . . I just knew I had to go with them if I wanted to live.”
“You barely remembered your own name.” He didn’t see why she couldn’t understand. “How could you have remembered a baby you’d never held, a baby they wouldn’t let you believe was yours? Maybe it’s easier for you to blame yourself than to admit how badly they’d brutalized you and how helpless you truly were.”
Her gaze snapped back to his. “How can you say that?”
Javier saw the despair and self-loathing in her eyes—and he made a decision. “Because I was there, Laura. I saw what happened. I was in command of the squad that hit Al-Nassar’s compound. I’m the one who carried you out of there.”
Her face went pale, her eyes wide as she gaped at him.
“You?”
“I just violated my orders by telling you this, so don’t repeat it, understand? That mission is still classified.”
“You were the tall SEAL?”
“Yeah.” Now at least he wouldn’t have to compete with himself.
She shook her head. “That couldn’t have been you. I watched him. I listened to him. I would have recognized your voice.”
“That
was
me, Laura. I was there. You shouted out, ‘I’m an American, too.’ Ross warned me one of the women was running up behind me. I turned, told you to get down, but you were already on your knees. I saw the other one running toward you, saw the knife in her hand, and I killed her. Then I ripped that burka off you and saw your face. I couldn’t believe it was you.” Javier’s throat went tight, a surge of emotion taking him. He tucked a strand of white-blond hair behind her ear. “You were
alive
.”
She sank to the couch, her gaze locked with his. “That was really you?”
“Yeah.” Some part of him had wanted to tell her that for a very long time. He sat beside her. “When I learned a SEAL team was being tasked with taking down Al-Nassar, I did everything I could to get our guns into that fight. I wanted to be the one to catch the
pendejo
who’d killed you. Our mission was to bring him back alive if we could, and I was hoping that motherfucker would do something, anything, that would justify my putting a bullet through his skull.”