“Triple-A.”
Antiaircraft artillery. Kunz’s men had discovered that the chopper had been stolen. Tracer bullets streaked through the sky toward them.
“I can’t pinpoint the source location.” Harry shouted. “I can’t find the freaking source!”
Amanda grabbed the rifle from Harry, moved to the door and prepared to take aim. The scope wasn’t equipped with night vision. Their luck was holding for catching minimal breaks. “Everyone, grab hold. Mark, drop fast and hang right. Standard evasion tactic.”
He did. The chopper bucked and groaned and the tracer bullets rose harmlessly into the sky above the chopper. Amanda tracked the trajectory and fired in rapid succession.
The Triple-A ceased.
“We should be getting out of range,” Harry said, sliding a look at Brent.
Simon sat in back, one arm around Joan. They both held Jeremy. Rather than the scared kid she expected—being shot at was no picnic even for an adult—Jeremy was smiling. “You okay, buddy?”
“It’s an adventure,” he told her. “Mom said.”
Amanda laughed. “It is that.” She moved up to Mark, planted a kiss on his cheek and dropped into the copilot’s seat. “Thanks for doing the stupid thing for me.” She reached for the radio, putting her headgear on and tuning to the emergency frequency monitored by Intel 24/7.
She’d nudged his headset, knocking it askew. Mark adjusted it. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“This is Alpha Tango 135812. Please verify and secure communications.”
A moment later, the tower chief’s voice crackled through the headset. “Alpha Tango 135812, identity verified, communications secured. What’s your situation, ma’am?”
“Code three,” Amanda said, assigning a value on the standard one-to-five scale for rating emergencies.
“Code three recorded.” The chief’s voice took on a tense edge, befitting a Code three. “How can we assist, ma’am?”
“I need a secure patch to the Puzzle Palace, Tower Chief,” she said, giving the slang term for the Pentagon. “OSI, S.A.S.S. action officer.”
A moment elapsed and then the tower chief said, “We’re ready to transmit your message, ma’am.”
“Seven,” she said, revealing the number of passengers on board. “Returning critical load. Arrange immediate transport.”
“Roger, ma’am.”
Amanda took special pleasure in her next transmission.
“Arrest and detain Captain Amanda West’s double, and if one is there, Captain Mark Cross’s.” Mark’s double, if he had one, could be at Providence wreaking havoc. She pondered on disclosing more, but decided that even with secure measures activated, she didn’t dare. No communications were totally secure, and the last thing they needed was for this to show up on
Fox News
before they located all the doubles. “Please track signal and guide us in.”
“Order verified and confirmed, Chief.” Amanda felt beads of sweat trickle down her chest and soak her bra between her breasts.
Moments later, the chief fed in coordinates. Mark heard them through his headset and locked them in on the chopper’s control panel. “Could you give us an ETA, Chief?” Mark asked for an estimated time of arrival.
No response.
Amanda interceded. “That’s my pilot making the request, Tower Chief.”
“ETA is in thirty-seven minutes, ma’am. The S.A.S.S. has been patched, notified, and the message delivered. Transport has been scrambled and awaits you on the flight line, ma’am. Do you require an escort?”
Amanda looked at Mark, Harry and Brent. Between them, they had four sharpshooters on board and adequate ammunition to fight a small war. “Negative, Chief. We’re covered.”
“Roger that, ma’am.” He sounded relieved. “If you need anything else, we’ll be monitoring on secure standby status.”
“Thanks, Chief. Alpha Tango 135812 over and out.”
“Tower Chief out.”
Mark raised an eyebrow at her. “The lady has enormous clout.”
“No more so than you,” she said. He had a hot wire to Secretary of Defense Reynolds. “Actually, I would guess you
have more.” So why hadn’t he used it? Underestimated again? She’d thought they were past that.
“Actually, if I had more, I’d order you to come kiss me. I’ve been worried about you. I would have been extremely upset if my lead partner hadn’t finished her job.”
Oddly touched, she smiled. “Me, too.” She leaned over, pecked a kiss to his jaw. He was letting her get the glory for this one. Seeing the truth for what it was, she brushed off the tiny niggle that something wasn’t right. Mark looked at Amanda. “They’re bringing us into Lackland Air Force Base.”
San Antonio, Texas. Lackland was well known for its medical facilities. “Great.” Feeling guilty for doubting him, she kissed his cheek, sniffed gently, and was surprised by the difference in his scent. Was it the change in his diet while detained? Or just his favorite body soap that was missing? “Did they feed you?”
Sensing her fear that he’d been starved, he looked over, his eyes tender. “I didn’t go hungry, Amanda.” He smiled.
Not just with his mouth. He smiled with his eyes, and starving people didn’t usually smile much. He was okay. They were okay.
“Will they follow us?” Joan asked, her voice shaking.
“Not immediately,” Mark said. “The hangars were empty. I stole Kunz’s emergency ride out.”
M
ark landed the chopper at Lackland Air Force Base.
A flat-blue bus sat parked at the edge of the landing pad, waiting for them. A lieutenant—Amanda didn’t see his name tag—ushered them from chopper to bus and, once they sat loaded inside it, he signaled to a base police car that then escorted the bus directly to the flight line. A C-5 had positioned to taxi out and take off, its lights on and engines running.
The seven escapees boarded with little fanfare and took their seats. Amanda clicked her seat belt into place and saw a ruddy-faced pilot step out of the cockpit.
Wearing a major’s rank, he approached and then addressed Amanda. “Captain West?”
She stood and nodded, half expecting to get reamed for her slovenly appearance. Old habits died hard. She looked as if she’d been doing exactly what she had been doing—running hard through the woods—and half the leaves and grass on the compound still clung to her clothes. “Yes, sir.”
The major nodded. “We’ll be taking you to Providence.”
“Providence?” she asked, surprised enough to question him without first thinking. “Why not the Pentagon, sir?”
“Colonel Drake’s orders.” He shrugged, looked her over, and understanding flitted through his eyes. “Mine is not to question why, Captain.” He put a lilt in his voice and turned back toward the cockpit. “Mine is to but fly the C-5.”
She smiled and sat back down beside Mark. Across the aisle, Jeremy sat between his mom and dad. Harry and Brent sat directly behind them. “Unless I miss my guess,” Amanda told Mark, “Colonel Drake will be at Providence waiting for us when we get there. Probably General Shaw, too.”
Mark grunted his agreement. “And unless I miss my guess, Colonel Gray will be with them. He won’t be able to resist the opportunity to strut his stuff and make Colonel Drake ask for his help on everything he possibly can.”
Amanda hoped not. The last thing they needed was the pissing contest going on between the two colonels. At least if General Shaw was on-site, he’d keep them both toeing the line and their energy focused. She rolled her shoulder. The wound where she’d been winged had started to seep, and fresh, wet blood stained her shirtsleeve.
Mark noticed. “We better put a patch on that.” He got out of his seat. “I’ll get a first-aid kit. Be right back.” He headed to the cockpit.
Amanda watched him move, appreciated his long lines and sturdy build, the confident set of his shoulders, the thoughtfulness in his tending to her wound.
He returned with a kit and nodded for her to move to the back of the plane. She walked to the tail section and sat down in the aisle seat.
“Pull your arm out of your sleeve.” Mark set up directly across the aisle from her.
She shrugged her shoulder out and exposed her arm, pre
tending she hadn’t also bared the left half of her bra and a lot of skin. Her cheeks heated and she felt like a fool. Why this bothered her, she hadn’t a clue. It was beyond ridiculous. She’d been on missions where she’d had to strip naked in front of an entire team, who also had had to strip naked in front of her, and she’d never given it a thought—neither had the team—and that was the problem.
In a professional or clinical situation, anyone looking at her breast didn’t strike her as any different than them looking at her ankle. But this wasn’t anyone else, it was Mark, and while it was a clinical situation, it didn’t feel clinical. It felt damn personal, and Mark would notice. He’d notice her breast, the swell of her breast, the turgid nipple pressing against the fabric cup of her bra. He’d notice the color and texture of her, and the sweaty dirt smear streaking down from her throat to the valley between her breasts. He’d damn well notice it all. Her face heated hotter, threatening to catch fire. Totally absurd, but she was damn breathless, too. Shy and breathless. It was appalling.
Pretending not to notice any of it, Mark kept his emotional distance and dabbed peroxide on the wound. “It’s not deep. You must have skinned it again during the escape.”
Damn. Was he totally unaffected? How could he sound so calm and detached? And why, when she should be on-her-knees grateful, was she disappointed and to-her-earlobes ticked? “Actually, I collided with an oak.” She frowned. “It won.”
“Gotta watch those twisted puppies—especially the monster roots. They’ll jump out and grab you every time.”
She smiled in spite of her snit, and watched him finish up with some antibiotic salve and a new bandage. His fingertips felt so gentle on her skin, almost caressing. Stretching her neck, she glimpsed his eyes and saw that he wasn’t so unaffected after all. Innately pleased by that, she smiled again, wider.
Now he looked irritated. Obviously, he hadn’t wanted to be caught noticing her, and that pleased her, too.
“There you go.” He looked from her arm to her face, his eyes a little hazed. “That should hold you until we get to a medical facility.”
The intimacy in his tone, the warmth in his eyes, had her breath hitching all the way up her throat. “Thanks. I’m sure it’s fine now.” A medical facility couldn’t have done a better job. He’d been field-trained in medical procedures when he was with Delta Force and it showed. She eased her arm back into her top, and then stared at him.
“What?” He closed up the kit, wadded the trash in his hand and squeezed until his knuckles turned white.
“Nothing.” She gave him a negative nod, then swept at her hair, getting it out of her face. “It’s just that…” Her voice trailed. She shrugged, then tried again. “It’s just that I like you, Mark.”
“Good.” His expression softened. “Because I like you, too.”
“No, you don’t get it.” She felt her skin crease into a frown between her eyebrows. “I’m not happy about this.”
“You’re not?” He looked bewildered then motioned for her to slide over so they could sit next to each other and talk this through. “Interesting. I’m not, either.”
She slid over a seat, and when he sat down, she added, “Good God, how could I be happy about it? You saw my films at Kunz’s. You know exactly why this is awful. Sex, being physical, connecting that way is one thing, but I don’t want to
like
any man.”
“You think we’re all like your father?” To his credit, no censure or judgment etched his tone. He simply wanted to know and so he had asked. It was a refreshing reaction, to just be asked anything straight out.
“No, I don’t,” she said, and she truly didn’t. “But until I
met you, I hadn’t allowed myself to get close enough to a man to actually like him—as a person, I mean.”
“So you’ve slept with men you didn’t like?” He sounded almost amused.
“I meant ‘like’ as in ‘emotionally endearing’ to me. Lust and/or desire is human, but you don’t have to find someone emotionally endearing to experience either of those things. It’s a physical and chemical and hormonal reaction, you know?”
“I know, but when you make soup—put all of those things together, Amanda—sex becomes lovemaking, and lovemaking is emotionally endearing and a lot more pleasurable than sex.” When she sent him a skeptical look, he added, “More levels of involvement equates to more intense heat.”
Doubtful about that—she’d had some pretty hot sex in her life—she shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she should, considering his record on judgment calls. “I’ve deliberately limited my investment in men to the physical.”
“So you used them—for sex.”
“No one used anyone,” she said, then felt a flush of guilt. “Okay. Okay, so once I did. But only once. Otherwise, the terms of my relationships were mutually agreed upon by both parties, and they worked for both parties until they didn’t work anymore, and then they ended.”
“They worked for you,” Mark countered. “Did the other half of these relationships have any choice?”
“Of course.”
“Really? It wasn’t your way or no way?” he speculated, his eyes far too seeing.
“Look, Cross.” She bristled. “They worked for me, okay? That’s the only way that’s worked for me.” She gave herself a mental shake. She was what she was and that’s the way it was. He could accept it or reject it, but she would not apolo
gize for it. She wasn’t a victim, damn it. And she’d never be a victim again. A woman didn’t apologize for refusing to be a freaking victim. Not in her world.
“Anyway, all of that is beside the point. This—us—we’re the point.” She wagged a pointed fingertip between them. “I’m not going to insult either of us by pretending I don’t have feelings for you. I’m not going to pretend that this is just about the physical. I want you to know that.” She had no idea what she was going to do with those feelings, but that was another conversation best saved for later—after she tried talking herself out of having those feelings, burying them, or stomping them to death. She wasn’t picky. She’d settle for whatever worked.
“I’m glad, Amanda. Because I have feelings for you, too.” Mark kept his hands on the seat’s arms, but his knuckles were white. This was hard for him, harder than she’d at first imagined. “I damn sure won’t pretend otherwise, and I won’t let you pretend, either. But I’m fighting it, too, for what it’s worth.”
How could she be relieved and disappointed at the same time? “Fighting it, in what way?”
“I don’t want to let you get inside me. I know you don’t want to let me get inside you. Relationships work out best when people open the doors, not when chemistry between two people knocks the doors down. I’m trying to give the people in us time to catch up with our chemistry.”
“But chemistry is good.” It’d always been enough. It was a known entity. Not threatening or unfamiliar. Chemistry didn’t breach her comfort zone.
“Can it lead to open doors?” He posed that as a question, but there was no missing the challenge cloaked in it. “Well, can it?”
“Anything is possible,” she said, suddenly irritated.
He stared at her, waited, and when it became apparent he
wasn’t going to move or say another word until she got more specific, she did. “It never has, but that doesn’t mean it can’t. I said I have feelings for you and I do. That’s new to me, and I have no idea what to expect. But I can say that I’m not comfortable with it—at least, not yet. It makes me feel…”
“What?” His voice softened. “What does it make you feel, Amanda?”
She glared at him. “Vulnerable.”
“And you hate feeling vulnerable.”
“Yes!”
“But you don’t hate having feelings for me?”
How did she respond to him when she couldn’t get a fix on her reaction to him herself? “Hate? No, no, I don’t,” she said, realizing it was true. “But I’m not overly thrilled with the prospect because I do hate having my back exposed.” Her father had taught her well the dangers of that. He always attacked her from behind, so she didn’t see him coming.
The look in Mark’s eyes turned gentle and totally enamored. “If you’ll open your heart, I’ll cover your back, honey.”
She swallowed hard. Men had looked at her with desire, in sensual hazes that could set fires rivaling four-alarm blazes, but never before had she been looked at with such tenderness and indulgence and…and she didn’t know what else it was, but she liked it. She really liked it. “Okay, then.” That was about all she could manage. Pretty neutral. She didn’t want that look to go away. It was addictive, worse than crack cocaine, her instincts warned. And having seen it once in a man’s eyes when he looked at her, she’d never again be satisfied to not see it.
“Okay, then.” Seeming extremely content with his progress, Mark stroked her cheek. “You’d better catch a few winks. It’s going to be a long night that I figure will run over through most of the day—once they start debriefing us.”
Amanda had about maxed on this emotional business, and
Mark clearly knew it. That he had suggested a reprieve from it without her having to ask for one, much less insist on one, endeared him to her more. And yet her instincts warned her that there was only one way to honestly face this thing between them. The same way she had faced everything else in her life: head-on and full throttle.
She leaned over, put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “It’s going to be a longer day still
after
the debriefing—possibly extending well into tomorrow night.”
He arched an eyebrow at her, his gaze speculative and warm. “Is that a fact?”
“If you can adequately explain that six-date rule you’re so fond of implementing, then yes, it is a fact.”
“Why is that?” A teasing light shone in his eyes.
“Because unless you object, I’m going to jump your bones.”
“I see.” He didn’t look at all opposed. Actually, he looked damn pleased with himself. “And what if I don’t adequately explain it?”
Heartened because he hadn’t objected, she grunted. “Then I predict you’ll have an even longer night. One with nothing for company but cold showers.”
That knocked the grin right off his face and planted one squarely on hers.
Shortly before 4:00 a.m., Amanda and Mark finished briefing Colonel Drake, Colonel Gray and, via teleconference, Secretary of Defense Reynolds. The debriefing had included an accurate description of Kunz. Everyone was now as worried as Amanda about not knowing the number of doubles currently active in U.S. intelligence agencies. Her double had been successfully inserted and no one had suspected a thing. That chilled all of them down to the marrow of their bones. So far, there was no evidence of Mark having a double. Hers had been arrested.
Early on in the discussion, the defense secretary had called in Special Operations, and later during it, he’d summoned the director of the FBI.
Now, the two were scheduled to pull a joint-forces coordinated mission to take down Kunz’s Texas compound in a predawn raid.
Kate had flown down to Providence with Colonel Drake. While the secretary and Drake coordinated the Texas-compound mission, she had a brief reunion and a cold drink with Amanda and Mark in the break room. Colonel Gray had been present since their return, as predicted, but fortunately he was keeping his mouth shut. He might ride Colonel Drake’s back and test her patience, but he wasn’t stupid enough to give her grief with Secretary Reynolds up to his armpits in this and his team of special assistants on-site. It’d be career suicide and jeopardize his retirement pay.