Shoot to Thrill (28 page)

“Good,” he said. “Because you’ve got no freaking chance.”

Didn’t she
freaking
know it. She halted and turned to glare up at him.

“What?”

“Let me make this as clear as I can, Kick. I have no interest in going anywhere with you. None. In fact, I wouldn’t go with you if you were the last man on earth and
begged
me to.”

With that, she spun and kept marching toward the hospital, leaving him trailing in her dust.

She didn’t look back and he didn’t call after her. Big surprise
there
. But she heard his crisp bootfalls follow in her wake all the way to Marc’s bedside.

To her relief, Marc was awake.

“Hey, you,” she said with a big smile. “How are you feeling?”

She sensed the heat of Kick’s presence behind her.

“Like crap warmed over,” Marc said with a valiant attempt at a smile back. “But it’s good to be alive. For a while there I thought . . .” His words trailed off and his eyelids dropped for a moment.

“We would never have let that happen,” she assured him, taking his good hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

He opened his eyes and they softened. “I believe you.” His gaze shifted behind her. “So what’s the plan,
mon ami
? When do we get going?”

Kick moved forward to stand next to Rainie. He surprised her by saying, “I’ve already contacted STORM Corps and alerted them to the situation.”

When had he done that? He must have borrowed the camp radio and called them while Rainie was helping with Marc. Or maybe when she took a shower earlier.

“As soon as you’re fit to travel, they’ll send a helo in for you and Rainie.”

The other man’s brows shot up. “
Mais, non!
I can’t be pulled out! You need me to—”

“You’re in no shape for a mission, my friend,” Kick interrupted. “You’ve been officially recalled.”

“But who will be your backup?” His eyes flicked to her. “Rainie?”

“Hell, no!” Kick said.

Marc frowned. “Have you forgotten this was designed as a three-man operation? How the devil will you, one man alone—”

“I’ll manage,” Kick interrupted. “You just concentrate on getting better, for the next mission.”

Marc shook his head. “Going in alone will be suicide. You know that.”

Kick shrugged. “Yeah, well.”

Rainie whirled around to face him, aghast. “
What?
You’re
still
planning to
die
out there?” He’d said that before, in New York, but since then, to her relief, he’d seemed to change his mind and to be determined to survive. Why had he changed his mind back again?

He looked at her indulgently. “I take that chance on every mission I go on, sweetheart. It’s what I do.”

Swiftly, her horror turned to fury. She pressed her lips together. “No. Not anymore. You
quit
that job. They’re
forcing
you to do this, and—”

He grasped her upper arms. “No. They’re not. I could have gotten away from them before taking off, if I’d really wanted to. Admittedly, you were—are—a complication. But now you’re safe.” He took a deep breath. “I
have
to do this, Rainie. Not for them. For me.”

“But—”

“Hell, you’ve seen how I live. Looking over my shoulder, angry at the world, killing myself slowly with pain pills.”

He didn’t say it, but she could see it in his eyes. And all at once, she understood. The real pain wasn’t out here in the world; it was on the inside. In his heart. His soul. Her own heart broke at what she saw in the depths of his haunted eyes.

“What’s the fucking point of it all?” he muttered.

She put her hands on his arms as he held her. “The point is to be
alive
. If you’re alive, there’s always hope, Kick. Hope for something better.”

He shook his head but avoided her gaze. “Not always.”

She stared at him and her soul filled with a sudden, blinding anguish.
Jesus.
And she’d thought
she
had hang-ups. Her fear of life was
nothing
compared with this man’s. What the hell had happened in his past to make him this way?

But he was wrong. So very wrong. Life was always worth living, in spite of the nightmares. Because with a little courage and a lot of help from your friends, you could conquer those nightmares. You really could. She was living proof.

She drew herself up and gathered her courage. How much worse could it get than it already had been?

“Well, I disagree,” she said determinedly. “And I’m going with you. To make sure you
don’t
die.”

His lips turned down. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“Hell, yeah, I mean it.” There was no way she could let him face his formidable demons alone—because she was sure that’s what this was for him, a way to prove to himself he was worthy of life. Not a chance she’d leave him, not when he’d always been there for her when she’d been forced to face hers. Not a chance she would let him choose death. Besides . . . he needed her. He might not see it, but he truly did.

Sure, she was terrified.
Heck, yeah.
But for the first time in her life, she didn’t care. Fear would
not
stop her from doing the right thing. Not
this
time.

She turned back to Marc. “What do I have to do? What do I need to learn?”

Kick grabbed her shoulders and spun her back. “What part of
no way in fucking hell
don’t you get?”

“Well, apparently not the fucking part,” she said tartly, and wrenched out of his surprised grip to turn back to Marc. “Now. If you’ll just tell me—”

“Baby, anytime you want to fuck, just say the word,” Kick growled behind her. “But you are
not
—”

“She’s right, you know,” Marc broke in quietly.

Kick pointed a finger at him. “
You
I don’t need help from.”

“
Donc
, yeah. Listen to me.”

She took a step away. Kick looked like he was about to have an apoplectic fit. “Have you lost your mind completely? She is an
untrained civilian
. One with major head issues, at that. I don’t care if these tangos blow me up or slice me to ribbons. But
not her
.”

“Think about it, Kick,” she argued. “I can—”

“No!” he roared, then glanced around and lowered his voice to an intense growl. “You are
not coming on the mission
. Not if you’re the last person on earth and you beg me,” he added with a cutting glare at her.

Okay, ouch.

“What about your tour guide cover?” Marc asked, his hushed voice a sea of calm in the storm of wills raging between her and Kick. “I saw that photo in Forsythe’s file. What happens to Rainie after you leave the camp without her?”

Her attention pricked at the mention of Forsythe.
Photo? What file?

“I’ve already taken care of that,” Kick gritted out. “She volunteered to accompany you home.”

Marc slowly shook his head. “And when they—when
he
—starts asking her questions? Hell, he’s already suspicious. How long do you think it’ll take him to figure out what’s really going on? You honestly think that I—that
we
—will live long enough to get on that transport home?”

She straightened.
Huh?
What was going on? “Wait. We’re in
danger
here? At the DFP camp?” She blinked at them in disbelief. “From who?”

Kick ignored her questions, his face twisting into a portrait of hostility as he regarded Marc like a thundercloud.

“
Alors
,” Marc said, lowering his voice further yet, “surely, he already suspects us. If I keep pretending to slip in and out of consciousness so I’m not a threat, I have a fifty-fifty chance of getting on that STORM helo intact. But if you leave her here, the odds go down dramatically. For
both
of us.”

Her alarm was growing by the second. “What the hell are you two talking about?” She spoke in a loud whisper, matching the cue of the men.

Kick paced away and then back, hands on hips, glaring at Marc. “You’re assuming he
is
the traitor. But what if he isn’t? That FedEx plane wasn’t shot down by accident, you know.
And
he was genuinely surprised to see us.”

“
Who?
”

“Did you contact STORM directly to request extraction, or through Zero Unit?” Marc asked.

“Directly. I don’t trust anyone at ZU.”

“Then we’ve all still got a fighting chance. But only if you get her out of here.”

Locked in a staring match, they were deliberately shutting her out of their plans.
God
, she hated that. Just like the flipping male doctors in the ER. She thrust her fingers into her hair and pulled at it in frustration. “Will you two
please
stop talking in riddles and tell me what the
hell
is going on?” It came out louder than she’d intended, causing the men to glance around worriedly.

Then they exchanged another look.

Kick blew out a breath. “Before the—” His jaw twitched. “On the plane, Forsythe showed me a CIA file he had on the Afghanistan incident where I was injured. I’d always believed someone on the inside had betrayed us, but I was never in a position to figure out who. Apparently Forsythe did. He had a photo of Nate taking money, or something, from a notorious terrorist. He said it was Nate who betrayed our mission and got my men killed.”

Rainie suddenly couldn’t breathe. “Nathan Daneby?” The man she’d admired for years? A
traitor
, working for terrorists? It was too much to fathom. He was in contention for a Nobel Peace Prize, for crying out loud! “Impossible. How could an idealist like Nathan be a traitor to his country?”

“He could be trading in conflict diamonds,” Marc suggested. “Lot of money in that.”

“Blood diamonds?” She’d heard about the trade, of course. Seen the movie. Knew about the connection between them and terrorism. But . . . “
Nathan?
”

“Doctors for Peace routinely cross national borders that are closed to most people, with relief shipments of food and medicines. Smuggling diamonds would be very easy, and very lucrative, for anyone willing to take the risk.”

“The profits would help a whole lot of refugees,” Kick agreed gravely.

“But you said he betrayed your mission.”

“Anyone involved with terrorists would have to protect himself,” Marc said. “From
both
sides.”

Kick looked ill. “Nate’s always been opposed to military solutions to the world’s problems. Especially CIA and its covert operations. Maybe the thought of sabotaging the Agency, along with receiving a whole lot of money to help his own cause, maybe it was too much to resist.”

“But he’s your friend!”

“That’s what I thought.” Kick’s expression was deadly.

Rainie’s heart went out to him. “There must be another explanation. Have you asked him?”

Kick’s head shook once, like he was afraid to speak for fear his voice would betray him.

“Then how can you believe a friend could do such a terrible thing?”

“Yes, how
could
you believe that?” someone said from the doorway.

She spun. It was Nathan.

Before she could react, Kick swooped down, pulled the SIG from its holster on his ankle, and trained it on the tall man in the door. At the same time Marc slid a deadly black automatic from under his pillow and did the same.

She yelped when Kick grabbed her arm and yanked her behind his back.

Nathan sighed, leaning a hip on the doorframe. “So much for the DFP’s ‘no weapons allowed’ rule.”

“How much of our conversation did you hear?” Kick asked, his voice soft but deadly.

“Enough.”

His eyes narrowed. “Got anything to say to me?”

Nathan’s expression was tired, almost sad. “Would you believe me if I said I was innocent?”

“That photo says otherwise.”

Nathan’s lip curled wryly. “Then I won’t bother to deny it.”

Kick stared at him for a long moment, finally asking, “Nate, did you take money—or anything—from abu Bakr’s right-hand man, Abbas Tawhid?”

There was an even longer moment before Nathan answered.

“Yes. I did. And I’d do it again.”

GINA
came awake with a gasp.

She shot to a sitting position in bed. What had awakened her? A sound? A draft of air that didn’t belong? A dream?

She was alone, the other side of her bed empty and cold. Disoriented, she looked at the clock on the nightstand. The amber digits glowed three fourteen. But AM or PM? She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there.

Her body reminded her. She felt sore, bruised, violated. And incredibly, mind-blowingly replete and satisfied.

She took a deep breath, and smelled him on her skin, on the sheets. The smell of his sex surrounded her.

Gregg.

Memories rushed back.

Omigod.
The things they’d done.

Heated embarrassment streaked through her whole body, even as her nipples hardened in aching desire at those memories.

The man liked it rough and dirty.

And mother of God, she had, too.

He’d made her come and come, then called her bad names until she’d come some more, and then as punishment he’d put her over his knee and spanked her with his large, strong hand until she’d come again and begged him to take her with his enormous cock, and
then
he’d tied her to the bed and put that enormous cock and his talented fingers and tongue in places they had no business being until she’d screamed herself hoarse with excitement and pleasure.

Jesus, she’d never been so turned on and insatiable in her life.

Then after he’d wrung every last bit of sensation from her limp body, and had spent every last drop of seed he had in her and on her, they’d fallen asleep, exhausted, in each other’s arms, him collapsing on top of her, covering her body with his like a heavy blanket of pure male muscle.

But now he was gone. And she ached for that body to cover her again.