Operation Summer Storm (24 page)

Summer watched him sit, unsure if she was still in trouble, or not.

He picked a piece of grass and twirled it between his fingers, staring at it but seeming to look through it. Finally he spoke and Summer jumped as his voice broke the lingering silence.

“I didn’t mean to go off at you like I did earlier.”

Summer sensed he had more to say and waited.

“I’ve organized a plane to take you home,” he said quietly.

Her heart stopped. It was so final—so cold. She bit her lip and tried to think of something to say.

She didn’t want to go.

It was stupid, this was a terrible place with no comforts of any kind. There were no beautiful beaches like Tate’s island. It was overrun with God knew how many men who would kill anyone if the price was right. She had no change of clothes; there wasn’t even any indoor plumbing for Christ sake! It was beyond primitive! Yet she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving.

Nevertheless, how could she not go? This wasn’t safe. There were things going on that were far beyond her scope or imagination—things she could not be kept safe from, no matter how hard Tate tried to protect her. She didn’t belong here, yet she could think of no other place on earth she felt more at home because this was where Tate was. It all boiled down to that one—unmistakable reason. Wherever he was, she was home.

Summer felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. It was so simple—yet so impossible. She’d found the man she loved, but he was not hers to love. He belonged to a world of violence and duty and honor and she simply didn’t fit into it. She stared at the water between the narrow banks and pushed down her empty, breaking heart.

“When?” she asked without looking at him.

“Tonight.”

Tate watched her tuck the hair behind her ears as it fell forward and brushed her face. He didn’t miss the slight tremble in her hands as she pushed it back. He was an expert at hiding his emotions. He’d done it all his life; the Marines had just polished his technique a little. He turned now to everything he’d learnt over the years to get him through this—through her leaving. He’d concentrate on staying alive a bit longer to bring that bastard to trial then he’d think about Summer. He’d be able to sit and remember her, just as she was now.

Beautiful.

Her image would get him through anything he had to face in the future—but he wouldn’t think about that—he had to get through watching her fly away first and for that he’d need everything he had.

“I guess this is it then,” she said, finally looking up at him with sad blue eyes.

His resolve started to quiver, but he dragged his shield back in place and she dropped her gaze. “I imagine your sister will be glad to have you home,” he said a little too briskly.

Summer nodded, looking back out over the river. “It’s not like I’ve got anything to hang around here for. I think Duffy will be glad to see the back of me,” she said lightly, clearly trying to inject some enthusiasm in to the conversation. “I have to say—it’ll be nice not to have to duck bullets anymore,” she added, trying to smile. “Or go for a swim in my clothes,” she said as a rogue sob escaped.

Tate groaned and put his arms around her.

“I..I r…really hate wearing wet c…clothes,” she said through a sudden downpour of tears.

“I know,” he said with a cross between a groan and a chuckle. He wouldn’t forget the way she’d stood on the beach at Sparkie’s hanger, dripping wet like a spitting cat—shooting sparks at him on the first leg of their rescue mission. He drew her closer and rubbed her back as she gave up trying to hold back the flood of tears.

After a while, the tears subsided, and Tate felt her body reacting to the nearness of his. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tried to bite down on her growing desire. It wasn’t going to help their situation, all it would do is make things a lot more complicated, but suddenly he needed her with a need as fierce as any storm. His hands, meant to soothe soon changed direction and were slowly traveling up her sides, sending shivers of what he hoped was delight through her.

“I know this isn’t a good idea, but God help me, I can’t think straight around you and I’ve been fighting this urge ever since the first moment I saw you,” he groaned.

“I swear if you make one more excuse not to do this, I will kill you myself,” she growled, nipping at his shoulder.

“What about—”

“I don’t care Tate, it’s all right, I just need you…please,” she whispered, lifting her gaze to his face.

He leaned down and claimed her lips in a deep, powerful claim of possession. Gone was the need for gentle exploratory touches, their bodies had played enough of those games and was now intent on one thing, total, desperate completion. Frantic need pounded through Tate’s veins as she pulled him back with her to lie on the grass with the sunlight raining down around them and gave herself to the aching need to fly with him far away from the horrors and uncertainties they’d lived through to escape for just a little while. He knew they couldn’t have forever, but he could give her now. Here. This moment.

And, that would have to be enough.

Tate opened the towel wrapped around her and looked down in silent wonder. His eyes devoured her. She was beautiful and she was his. He knew it in the very depths of his soul. Summer was his and he would claim her here and now, with only the gentle breeze and the warm sun as their witness.

He shrugged off his shirt, ignoring the pull of his shoulder wound, and slid his bare skin against her soft warm flesh, closing his eyes at the unbelievable pleasure it provoked. He took her lips in a savage kiss, and she took her own pleasure in scraping her nails down his back as she arched and moaned in a fever of desire.

There wasn’t time for finesse, or foreplay—there was only the urgent need to possess. He took her in a single thrust and Summer sobbed as her body became one with his. Tate held her tightly—torn between the urgent desire to quench his straining body and the painful ecstasy of savoring the moment in time where everything seemed suspended.

He went still inside her—searching her blazing gaze as she lay beneath him–her heart in her eyes. God he she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. They fit together like two identical halves and for the life of him—he couldn’t have uttered a single word past the hard lump stuck in his throat as a cascade of emotion fell down upon him—burying him beneath its weight. Time had stopped and the universe stood still but the decision was taken out of his hands as Summer squeezed and clenched and dragged him with her over the edge into a gaping cavern of ecstasy.

Chapter Seventeen

They lay together, savoring each precious second, Tate knowing once he let go, their time together would end. They had only this one brief moment to savor. He breathed in Summer’s warm scent—filing it away to drag out when he found him alone, then slowly pulled away, easing himself up to look down at her.

“We have to get back.”

Summer looked back at him with tears rapidly filling her eyes. “I don’t want to leave you Tate,” she whispered brokenly.

Tate shook his head “If I were a different kind of man,” he started softly.

Summer placed her fingertips against his mouth gently. “If you were any other man, I wouldn’t love you. Please don’t ever apologize for who you are.”

He tried to protest then gave up. She was right, admitting it didn’t make any difference, but it somehow made his pain easier to bear.

“I never believed I’d find someone like you. I never believed I deserved to have something so beautiful in my life, and I was right. You don’t belong with me,” he kissed her gently when she went to protest. “—but I’ve been given a gift. You’ve given me a gift Summer Sheldon. I had you for a little while in my life and it’s something I’ll always be grateful for,” he told her solemnly, looking deep inside her through her blue, blue eyes.

“You gave me back my sister. You risked your life to get her, and I’ll always remember that,” she drew him down and kissed him gently once more, then with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, he escorted her into the water to wash, before getting dressed and heading back to camp. All the while little pieces of his heart were crumbling away, like an empty, lonely old ruin.

That afternoon was the longest Summer could ever remember experiencing. Seconds ticked by—each one inching progressively closer to her imminent departure.

Duffy finally made a grand entrance into their little sanctuary just as it started getting dark. “The plane’s here,” he informed Tate, sending a scorching look at Summer as she steeled herself against the blatantly sexual perusal of her body. “Hurry up, we don’t want any unwanted attention,” he said spitting in the dirt at his feet.

Summer took a deep breath. This is how it would end. There would be no long drawn out farewells, no promises exchanged—just a goodbye that would seal their relationship—ending it as quickly as it had begun.

“Where will you go?” she asked, needing to know something, unable to simply let him walk away and never know where he was headed.

“An old friend of ours is coming to take us home,” he said vaguely.

The men followed her outside, carrying their guns, to pile in the jeep for the ride to the airstrip. Summer noticed that two other vehicles accompanied them—all had armed men inside.

The headlights of the jeep bounced around the dark scrub alongside the crude track that led from the airstrip to the camp. The strip was lit up with a row of old forty-four gallon drums—each ablaze and burning brightly in the early evening darkness. A small plane sat waiting—ready—apparently for her to board. Tate helped Summer out of the jeep, avoiding her eyes.

Standing uncertainly for a moment, Summer took a deep breath to face the men who’d helped save her sister. She smiled at Del ruefully. “Thanks for everything Del. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m really going to miss you guys.” She smiled biting the inside of her cheek to keep from blubbering like an idiot.

“Take care Summer,” he said ruffling her hair affectionately.

Maloney and Tupper stood next to him and she eyed each of them silently, “Be good, and be careful,” she stressed seriously the last comment. There was still a long way to go before the trial.

“Don’t know about being good, but you can count on the careful,” Tupper smiled at her cheerfully.

“We’ll be fine,” Maloney assured her. Summer wished she felt as confident. “Don’t worry” he said—it wasn’t going to be easy to turn off that particular emotion.

She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Look after him for me,” she whispered, before stepping back and smiling sadly. He gave her a wink before she turned away.

Finally, she couldn’t put it off any longer, raising her eyes she looked up at Tate. From the corner of her eye she noticed the others turning away to give them a minimum of privacy.

Tate met her gaze, for a moment unable to keep the despair from his own eyes, but reining it in firmly, before it broke loose. Summer swallowed through an impossibly tight throat. It was all she could do to not to collapse into his arms and beg him not to send her away.

A big hairy-faced man brushed past them to climb the steps into the small plane beside them. Distracted—Summer looked up at Tate apprehensively. “Who’s that?”

“Your escort,” he told her stiffly.

“What escort? I don’t need an escort,” she protested, not keen to travel with one of the mercenaries from the camp alone.

“He’s going. He’ll go as far as the airport at Bali to put you on the plane. From there you should be Okay.”

“Tate, this is ridiculous, I’m in no danger. Tréago doesn’t know about the file, or me—he was after you. I’ll be fine.”

“We don’t know that for sure. I’m not going to take any chances. Do as he says—and for God sake don’t give him any trouble,” he said wearily.

Summer lifted her eyes, “As if I would,” she said sweetly.

Tate flashed a small grin. “Yeah—as if,” he agreed dryly.

“Let’s go,” the pilot shouted through the small doorway of the aircraft.

Summer felt the emptiness as it crept inside her once more and her eyes stung with the all too familiar sting of oncoming tears. What did she say? She thought, suddenly panicking—Goodbye? That was so final, she couldn’t form the words on her lips. I’ll miss you? So many things and none of them seemed to fit their circumstances.

“And don’t threaten this pilot with any firearms,” Del added, coming over to tap Tate on the shoulder, to signal it was time to go. “We’ve got a boat waiting.”

“A boat?”

“Over there, by the lagoon.”

She hadn’t noticed it when they’d arrived the first time, in the dead of night with bullets flying. But there indeed was a big body of water within sight of the airstrip. Looking over at the black boat that had cruised into the wharf, Summer shot a startled glance toward Tate, reaching for his arm. “Tate that’s the Navy, what are they doing here?”

“Take care Summer,” he said solemnly, as Duffy and his men stood, guns leveled threateningly upon the six men in uniform who jumped from the boat, armed and walking slowly, toward the small group by the plane.

An older man moved forward and approached Tate, his hand outstretched and she watched the two men shake hands, a mutual respect passing between them.