Power: Special Tactical Units Division (In Wilde Country Book 3) (19 page)

Being together.

Being one.

“Make love to me,” she said fiercely. “Now. Right now. Just kiss me and touch me and bury yourself deep inside me and tell me that nothing,
nothing
, will keep us apart.”

His mouth captured hers, all heat and passion and hurry.

He got her jeans down. Unzipped his. No niceties. No finesse. Neither wanted that.

He drew her down to the floor. She wrapped herself around him and he drove into her.

She sobbed his name.

He whispered hers.

She came fast and hard; he felt her muscles contract around him and that was all he needed to go with her.

After, he held her against him. Waited until his heartbeat and hers slowed. Then he framed her face with his hands and took her mouth in long, sweet, tender kisses.

Letting go of each other was difficult, but each knew there was no choice.

The expected eye of the storm was suddenly overhead. The rain became a drizzle; the wind turned into a whisper.

There was no time to waste.

They rearranged their clothes in silence.

Tanner laced up his combat boots; Alessandra zipped up the boots she’d found in the closet. He collected the few things he’d taken out of his backpack. Slung the MP7 over his shoulder; snugged his belt and the holstered SIG-SAUER around her hips.

Then he clasped her shoulders.

“STUD will get us out before the insurgents show up,” he said, and silently hoped to hell he was right. “Just in case they don’t… If you need to pull that pistol, you also need to shoot to kill. The things people ask cops and soldiers about why they didn’t shoot a bad guy in the leg is just bullshit. The entire reason for using a weapon is to take down your enemy. For most shooters, that means aiming for the biggest target. The torso. Understood?”

Alessandra nodded. Her heart was beating fast and loud. Some of it was fear of what might be waiting for them outside the house, but most of it was fear that she would never again see this man, the man she loved.

“We’ll be fine, honey,” Tanner said softly. He smiled, put his fingers under her chin and raised her face to his. “My guys wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She smiled back, but her eyes filled with tears.

“Promise me you won’t put yourself in harm’s way,” she said.

It was a promise he couldn’t make, and they both knew it.

Instead, he kissed her and held her to his heart.

“Tanner,” she whispered, “when we get home…”

Everything would change. He knew that, too, but this wasn’t the time to talk about it.

“For now,” he said, “let’s just concentrate on getting out of the Mangrove Hilton.”

She gave a watery laugh. “When we fill out the guest survey, we should mention they never left chocolates on our pill—”

The satphone rang. Tanner grabbed it.

“Akecheta,” Chay said, urgency in his voice. “Your rides are almost there, but so is Bright Star. LZ is changed. It’s now the beach, not the field. Go there, pronto. Understood? Tanner! Do you read—”

The sound of choppers moving in drowned Chay out.

Tanner swung towards the nearest bank of security monitors. Yes, there they were. A pair of Hueys, low over the beach. He grabbed Alessandra’s hand. They raced down the hall to the utility room and the back door…

“Shit!”

Staccato bursts of small arms coming from the field in front of the house became part of the cacophony of sound.

Tanner clasped Alessandra’s hands.

“I’m going to unlock the back door,” he said. “The second it’s open, you run for the helicopters.”

“What do you mean
I
run for them? Where will you be?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Tanner. I’m not going anywhere without—”

“Alessandra,” he said sharply, “Listen to me. You will run. You will not look back, you will not hesitate. You will run like the devil is on your heels.”

“No!” She shook her head. Her eyes were wild. “No. I am not leaving you. I am not—”

“Goddammit, I’m not giving you a choice. You will get your ass out of here. Understood?”

“Tanner. Please.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. She lifted a hand, touched it to his jaw. It took all his strength not to turn his face and press his lips to her palm, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What he could do, would do, was whatever was necessary to save her life.

“I’m not giving you a choice,” he said, the words harsh and blunt. “I have never not completed a mission, and that isn’t going to change just because you and I fucked.”

He saw her flinch. Saw the pain in her eyes. He wanted to call back the words, drag her into his arms, tell her the truth, that he loved her, that he would love her forever…

“Now,” he said, and he flung the door open.

She looked at him one last time. He knew he would always remember that look, that it would haunt his days and nights until he saw her again, until he could tell her that he had lied…

Because he would tell her.

Of course, he would tell her…

Tanner put his hand in the center of Alessandra’s back and pushed her out the door.

“Run, damn you,” he shouted.

She stumbled forward. He wanted to go after her, see her safely to the chopper, but he knew that the only way to protect her was to keep the guerrillas busy enough so they couldn’t get past him.

One last look.

She was almost at the bird. An arm reached out, the hand open and extended to her.

She grasped it.

Tanner spun around, raced to the front door and threw it open.

Men were coming through the tall grass, firing at the house. Without hesitation, he began firing back.

A dark shadow passed overhead.

It was a helicopter.

Alessandra was safe.

It was his last thought before he got hit, went down, and everything went black.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Walter Reed Medical Center, Bethesda, Maryland:

The world consisted
of a narrow bed, a panel of blinking lights and the poking and prodding of shiny instruments.

And pain.

Jesus, the pain.

It was in his leg, same as the last time, except it wasn’t the same.

It was worse.

Much worse.

It was endless. Unrelenting. It was a white-hot flame, a blazing poker that pierced his flesh, his muscles, his bones. It made him want to scream each time he rose to consciousness, but he knew better than to scream.

If he did, the docs would decide things had gone too far.

He knew where that would lead and no way was he going to let that happen.

His leg was fucked, but it was his leg and, goddammit, they were not going to take it from him.

It was the only thing he lasted long enough to say between bouts of consciousness.

“Do not take my leg.”

He said it over and over, over and over. The doctors would say
We’re doing the best we can, Lieutenant,
and he’d say, “Goddammit, do not take my leg!”

Then he’d be gone again.

He lost track of the number of times they operated. Of the drugs they gave him.

Last time, he’d fought the drugs. He’d seen what happened when the drugs took you. Guys in the ward. Guys on the res. Addiction was addiction whether you had it dripped into your arm in a hospital or you shot up on the street, and he wasn’t that going to go that route.

This time…this time, he pressed the button on the PCA hooked into him until they told him he’d used up his allotted dose of happy juice and he’d have to wait to get more.

Really? Then what was the point of a patient controlled analgesic delivery system? he growled, except the words came out a pathetic whisper and all he got for his plea was another visit from an overworked resident who did more poking and prodding until Tanner bit through his lip to keep from screaming.

It was better when he was under.

The pain was gone, sure, but it was more than that.

When he was under, he dreamed.

Of her.

Alessandra.

Alessandra, in his arms. Alessandra, smiling at him across the kitchen table. Alessandra, standing before the mirror, naked, and him coming up behind her, pressing his body against hers, his hands cupping her breasts, his mouth against the nape of her neck, her sweet sigh as she leaned back against him…

“Lieutenant.”

The feel of her. Her softness. Her scent…

“Lieutenant Akecheta. Can you hear me?”

A woman’s voice.

“Alessandra?” Tanner whispered.

A cool hand swept over his forehead.

“He’s burning up,” the voice said.

“Alessandra. Sweetheart…”

“Temp is one-oh-four,” a brisk male voice said. “I want him in surgery.
Stat
.”

“Sweetheart. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Hush,” the female voice said. Gentle fingers meshed with his. “You’re going to be fine, Lieutenant. Just fine.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Tanner said, “didn’t mean it. I love you, Alessandra. I love you…”

“Hang on, dude. You hear me? Just hang on.”

Chay’s voice. Chay’s rough hand gripping his.

“Alessandra,” Tanner whispered. “Tell her…Tell her…”

He was moving. Flying down long corridors. Lights blazed overhead. Doors swung open. He was in a room with white tile walls.

“Easy,” a voice said, and something icy-cold rushed through his veins, through his body. It was taking him down, down, down…

And then he fell into darkness.

* * *

Mayo Clinic, Jacksonville, Florida:

Alessandra shot
to consciousness, gasping for air.

She had been dreaming.

A house. A helicopter. Men swarming across a field. The sound of small-arms fire…

And Tanner. Abandoned. Alone. Tanner…

“Tanner?” she said. “Tanner, where are you?”

The people gathered around her hospital bed looked at each other.

“What’d she say?” whispered her sister, Bianca.

The Wildes and Bellinis shook their heads.

“Something about a banner,” Travis Wilde said.

“It sounded like hammer,” Luca Bellini said.

“She said ‘camera,’” Matteo Bellini said. “She probably took pictures down there. In wherever the hell she was. San Salvador.”

“Santo Domingo,” Emily Wilde said.

“San Escobal,” Jacob Wilde said, “and what does it matter? She’s full of ether. Nothing she’s gonna say will make sense.”

“They haven’t used ether in a million years,” Caleb Wilde growled. “But Jake’s right. She’s babbling nonsense. People do, after anesthesia. What counts is that she’s okay.”

“More than okay. The neurosurgeon says she’s doing extremely well.”

The Wildes and Bellinis turned towards the doorway as their father, the general, entered the room. He looked haggard, but so did they all. They’d been gathered in this hospital room for a week, ever since Alessandra had been transferred here from a trauma center in Miami.

“That’s wonderful,” Jaimie Wilde said. “Then, she’s going to—to—”

John Hamilton Wilde joined his children at his daughter’s bedside.

“There’s still some danger, but he assured me that he relieved the pressure on Alessandra’s brain and that the chances of a full recovery are excellent.”

Luca stabbed his fingers through his hair.

“Of all the things to happen,” he growled. “That Alessandra should have suffered a concussion in that damned helicopter…”

“The helicopter was under fire. It was close to a miracle they were able to pull her aboard. There was no time to belt her in.”

“
Si
. We know that.” Matteo swallowed hard. He looked down at his sister, so small and still in the hospital bed. “She’ll be fine,” he said. “She’ll be just fine.”

“Damn right,” Lissa Wilde said, chin lifted, eyes flashing as if she were daring anyone to disagree.

Alessandra stirred. Sighed. “Tanner,” she murmured.

Bianca reached for her hand.

“She just said it again. Banner. Hammer. Camera. Something like that. Father? Any idea what she’s saying?”

The general stared down at Alessandra. His precious daughter, who had been given a second chance at life. That meant he also had a second chance. He could provide her with all the things he had not given her in the past.

She, the same as all his children, deserved only the best, and the best did not include a man who fought shadow wars, who was trained to kill, who would surely never be able to give a woman security and comfort and fidelity.

“Tanner,” Alessandra whispered.

“Father?” Bianca asked. “Do you know what she’s trying to say?”

“No,” John Hamilton Wilde replied. “I have no idea at all.”

* * *

Bethesda, Maryland:

Tanner was
up and walking.

He was off pain meds, and he’d had enough of being in the hospital. “I’m fine,” he told his doctors. “Or I will be, once I’m out of here.”

The doctors were a little skeptical.

True, his leg was healing well. It was his attitude that worried them. He seemed depressed, but they figured that would be normal for a guy who’d had to give up the career he loved. A couple of his nurses thought it wasn’t the loss of his career he was mourning so much as it was something else. Either way, there really was no reason to keep him hospitalized and they finally discharged him on a crisp fall morning.

He called for a taxi to pick him up. Then he stood outside Walter Reed and felt better just breathing in air that didn’t smell of antiseptic.

The taxi took him to Washington National Airport.

Getting through security took a while. From now on, it probably always would. That was part of the price you paid for having a titanium rod and a bunch of titanium screws in your leg.

Yeah, he thought, as he settled into his seat on the plane, but the good news was that he still had a leg. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d told them they’d have to tie him down to so much as try to remove it.

Whatever the reason, he’d kept it.

The bad news was that he’d lost the career he’d loved. His days as a STUD were over.

Blake had been decent about it.

He’d shown up in person to deliver the news, even though Tanner had already figured it out for himself. When you’d not only set off metal detectors and would predict rain as accurately as a barometer, you were no longer of much use to the military.

“What we would like,” Blake had said, “is to work something out so you’d come in a couple of times a year. Speak to new STUD classes. Teach them the skills you have.”

Yeah. Right.

Tanner could just see himself caning it across the floor to a lectern, looking down at a bunch of eager young faces while he droned on and on about the life he’d once led.

“Sounds good,” he’d said, but he and Blake had both known he was lying.

It was time to acknowledge the truth about his moribund career…

And about Alessandra Bellini Wilde.

What they’d had together had not been real.

It had been wartime sex.

Well, okay. Not wartime, but it came down to the same thing.

Sex when your life was on the line was different from regular.

He’d come back from missions totally hyped, needing more than a hot shower and a hot meal—needing a woman under him, a woman reminding him that he was still alive, still in one functional piece.

The only difference this time had been that the woman had been right there with him. Available. Eager. Hot.

And smart and funny and tough and tender and, Jesus, he missed her, he missed her…

She was okay. He knew that. He’d been barely conscious when he’d asked Chay if she was all right and Chay had assured him she was.

But where was she? Why hadn’t he heard from her?

Once he was off the drugs, up and moving, he’d waited for her to call. To show up on the ward. Surely she’d figured out that he hadn’t meant what he’d said in those last couple of minutes.

Right. But what if she hadn’t?

Anything was possible.

He’d told himself he should have thought of that sooner, but it wasn’t too late. He could call her.

Call her? He didn’t have her phone number. He didn’t have her address.

Wait. She’d said she lived in Manhattan.

Alessandra Bellini. Or Alessandra Wilde. Or, because she was a smart woman, she might have just listed herself as A. Bellini. Or A. Wilde. Yeah, but what if she didn’t have a phone? A regular phone. There were no directories for smartphones.

The next time Chay came to visit, he told him what he needed.

Tanner,” Chay said, “listen, dude…”

“You told me she was all right,” Tanner had said. “She is, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. She’s fine.”

“Just get me her numbers.”

Getting telephone numbers wasn’t difficult when you had STUD’s resources. Chay gave him two the next morning.

“One’s a cell. The other’s a land line.”

“Thanks, man,” Tanner said.

“No problem.”

Not true.

It was a problem. First working up to making the call, then planning what he’d say. In the end, though, all the planning turned out to be meaningless. The cell was no longer operational. That figured. It was probably still in San Escobal.

The land phone, however, was still good.

He punched in the number, waited while the phone rang…and heard Alessandra’s voice say,
Hi, you’ve reached 555-765-1430. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.

The message he left was messy. A bunch of mostly incoherent words, spoken by a desperate man. In the end, he stopped in the middle of a sentence, took a hard breath and said,
Call me. Please. I need to talk to you. Call me, sweetheart. Please.

But she didn’t.

Yeah. Okay. He hadn’t left a phone number. So he called back and left the number for the nurses’ station on his floor. But she still didn’t call and he thought maybe she hadn’t listened to her messages. Or maybe he’d pressed the wrong button and inadvertently erased the one he’d left her.

Amazing, the lies a man could tell himself, Tanner thought as he boarded the plane bound for home.

Still, lies could only take you so far.

The truth had been hand-delivered the very next day. It came in the form of a note, polite and to the point, handwritten on linen stationery that bore General John Hamilton Wilde’s letterhead.

Dear Lieutenant Akecheta:

My daughter thanks you for your call and says to tell you she wishes you well and that she knows you will understand how busy she is at this time. She joins me in offering you our deepest gratitude for everything you did for us.

The both of us are happy to hear you are recovering from your injuries and wish you well in all your future endeavors.

Sincerely yours…

He’d read it twice, but the meaning never changed.

It was over.

They’d shared a few days together. Nothing more than that.

Besides, he couldn’t blame her for walking away from him. He wasn’t a man anymore. Not the one she’d been with.

He was back to being Tanner Akecheta from the res in South Dakota.

And she…she was a general’s daughter.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please prepare for takeoff.”

Tanner buckled his seat belt, turned his face to the window, and spent the next few hours doing his best not to think of anything beyond what in hell he was going to do with his life once he got home.

* * *

The El Sueño Ranch, Texas:

Alessandra took
a final look at herself the mirror in her bedroom at El Sueño.

It was time to get moving. Her family was waiting for her downstairs. She knew they were eager to celebrate.

She was home. She was safe. She had survived.

As for the rest…

“Stop it,” she told her reflection.

There wasn’t a reason in the world to keep reminding herself of what an idiot she’d been.

The time she’d spent with Tanner Akecheta was in the past. A past that had all the substance of a dream. How could it be more than that when she’d only spent a handful of hours with him?