Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Aaron's Honor (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Men of Mercy Book 8) (11 page)

No, his denial.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fucking hands, shaking like a damn baby. He'd almost lost control and devoured Celine whole, even with her looking so helpless and tired. He knew she needed some time to rest, and he'd practically mauled her. His sisters would flay him alive. Celine needed to be pampered and cared for, not subjected to his basic desires because he couldn't keep his dick under control.

And he thought he knew everything there was to know about women. He’d always been so in control of his emotions, knew exactly what he wanted and when, but Celine took those notions and flipped them upside down. She put him on edge. He'd have to be more careful in the future. Try to put a little bit more distance between them.

A derisive smile spread across his face at the thought. They were locked in a cabin over fifty miles from civilization, for at least the next week, keeping his distance would be difficult, if not impossible.

He'd been so proud of himself, too, for refusing to install TVs or Internet. He wanted this to be secluded with no connection to the outside world. A place of solitude.

He'd effectively removed any possible distractions, leaving him no real excuse to stay away from Celine.

His cabin had been the perfect escape, the ultimate man cave. He'd never intended to bring anyone else here, let alone a female. In his experience with his sisters, girls left junk everywhere. They liked flowers and pink and sweet smelling perfume.

His need for order and control had been ingrained from Basic training onward. The thought of anyone junking up his place left him feeling slightly ill.

Unless it was Celine...so far he hadn't found anything about her he didn't like. Even when she flipped her switch and went all sassy mouth. He liked that she hadn't let her kidnapping snuff out her spirit. And he liked how when she was vulnerable she automatically leaned on him. He liked holding her and inhaling her scent.

Shit, he was in deep, really deep. There was absolutely no way he’d be able to control himself unless he worked off some of this energy.

He prowled the kitchen like a caged tiger, checking cabinet doors for squeaky hinges and small appliances for faulty wiring. Nothing.

The fireplace
. There'd been something he wanted to do there. Oh yeah – there had to have been something he wanted to do with the fireplace. He stepped into the living room and knelt at the hearth.

Celine splashed water upstairs and his attention went to the balcony, unable to look away, as he strained to hear every minute sound. Thinking about her running a soapy cloth over those perfect breasts. The material would be rough, abrade her nipples, they'd go all tight and pucker...

Fuck. Aaron shot to his feet and crossed to the door, maybe he needed to chop some firewood. But an obscenely large stack mocked him from beneath the shed.
Fuck it, there were always more trees to cut down.

Aaron strode to the shed and grabbed his ax, going to work.

An indeterminate time later the hard labor had done wonders to clear his mind. After splitting enough firewood to start a third stack, he felt back in control. Yes, Celine Latimer was different, he realized that the first time he saw her, but he could handle her. He could handle himself when he was around her. He could compartmentalize just like he did on a regular mission; tie her up nice and neat and put her in her own little box in the back of his mind. He'd deal with her at a distance, give her time to move on and give himself permission to rejoin TF-S and hunt down Mr. J.

He swung the ax, feeling the satisfaction when he cleaved the log in two with one swing. Agent O'Keefe had managed to infiltrate one of the deepest layers of the Pentagon. And probably Eli and Daniel, if that was really their names, had managed to do the same. But how?

Each access card was assigned its own code, and the code changed weekly, which meant that O'Keefe had gotten his hands on someone's ID and security code within the week and infiltrated the Pentagon and managed to get to Celine. An impossible task for someone on the outside.

He had to have gotten help from someone on the inside, and no low level techie either. The security codes he’d gotten his hands on required clearance from the upper echelon. It was possible there was a double agent, embedded from before Mr. J defected to Afghanistan. But more likely it was someone higher up, above the operative level, someone who could move about freely, who had clearance for the lower level. Someone other agents wouldn't question.

Someone like Senator Cotter?

Aaron swung again, the log no match for the downward force of his ax. In his job he'd worked with all kinds of government agencies, but most closely with the CIA. They had their own black ops unit, labeled OGA, Other Government Agency. These units ran behind the scenes and generally answered to one commander who had the authority to run ops without asking permission from the President or the Department of Defense.

But Mr. J had never reached that level, he'd turned traitor before then, and Aaron had been out long enough now that he had no idea who ran those teams anymore. He needed to contact Agent K. The faster they solved this mystery, the sooner he could put some physical distance between him and Celine, and maybe even be there to capture Mr. J.

He split another log, embracing his exhausted muscles. He'd work it all out. He'd help Agent K figure out the mole, stay busy working around the cabin to keep his hands off Celine and then he'd be back in Afghanistan, doing what he'd been trained to do.

Aaron propped the ax on its head, resting his forearm on the handle as he savored the feeling of being in control.

The back of his neck tingled and he spun, dropping the handle of the ax when he saw Celine.
Sweet Jesus
.

The sunlight basked her in a dusky glow, her freshly washed hair still damp, her hot pink biker shorts playing peekaboo with the hem of her T-shirt. Her T-shirt – Aaron went hard as a rock. The lighting basically highlighted the outline of her nipples through the thin white material. He watched them bead and stiffen under his gaze.

Before his mind had a chance to react, his feet had carried him to her. He stopped right beneath her on the deck, just below eye level. Aaron stared straight ahead, using every ounce of willpower not to look at her chest, and instead focused on the frantic pulse at the base of her slender neck.

“Did you have a good bath?” He could no more help the rough edge to his voice than the fact he was about to bust the zipper on his pants.

“Yes, it was perfect.”

Her voice did things to him, made him wonder what she would sound like screaming his name. Aaron cleared his throat. “Good. Do you need anything?”

His ability for rational thought evaporated as he inhaled her fresh scent. So sweet.

“I couldn't find you inside and I heard the noise out here, so I came to see what was going on.” She bit her bottom lip and nearly took him to his knees.

Think about something, anything but the way her nipples would taste
. “Yeah, I was running kinda low on firewood.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a rock.

“Does it get really cold up here?”

“Only in the winter, and honestly it’s not so bad. Two or three months, that's it.”

“I guess, I thought, you know all the wood...” She gestured to the pile behind him.

“Oh, well, I'm not out here that much so I like to be prepared,” he finished lamely. He had enough firewood now to last two winters easy and that was burning wood all day, too.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the bruise on her arm a stark reminder of his goal. Celine was delicate. Fragile.

So far her kidnapping and near murder hadn't pushed her over the edge, but if he didn't suppress his lust, he might be the one to break her.

“You should go back inside. I need to finish up here and then I'll come change your bandage.”

Her blue eyes shadowed and he hid his cringe. His tone had been harsh, he'd meant for it to be, for both their sakes.

“Fine. Try not to chop off a leg.” 

Aaron watched her storm into the house with a sigh. He rarely hated his job, but this was one of those times he'd give anything to have been normal.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“What the hell happened in here?” Aaron's gaze swept the mess in the bedroom, shock locking him to the top of the staircase.

Celine bolted upright, blinking hard, in the middle of his bed surrounded by clothes and bags and toiletries. “What?”

“Did someone break in while you were napping?” He took a step and faltered. His bedroom had been turned into a war zone for dirty towels and clothes. The perfect order demolished.

Her pale blond eyebrows dipped down. “No.”

“So some little elves stole into the bedroom and destroyed it?” His grip tightened on the banister.

“Are you feeling okay? Did you hit yourself in the head with the ax or something?”

Aaron just shook his head and bent down to pick up one of his new pairs of shorts discarded on the floor. He dangled it from his fingers. “These were clean an hour ago.”

Celine scooted to the end of the bed and sat up on her knees. Damn if she wasn't sexy sitting there in that t-shirt.

“They still are clean, at least if you don't touch them too much with your dirty hands.”

“They've been on the floor.” Yeah, he was picky about his shit, this was his home. His domain. Overseas, when they were in the suck, he didn't have the luxury of being clean or neat, he had to live out of a duffel bag in the desert half the time with just a small tent for shelter, and that was if he was lucky.

But not here.

“Is your floor dirty?”

Aaron fisted the shorts. “Only from us walking on it.”

“So what’s the problem then?” Celine smirked and dropped down to the side, the plastic department store bags crinkling beneath her. The position made her shirt ride up, her hips more curvaceous as the pink shorts molded to her fine ass.

Aaron threw his shorts on the bed right next to her arm. He waved a hand, gesturing to the absolute chaos. “This is the problem.”

“Looks fine to me.” She shrugged and picked up a pair of boxers, twirling them around her finger.

She'd lost her mind. That was the only answer. He couldn't argue with her.
Focus.
“I need to take a shower, why don't you go downstairs, I unpacked the food already if you want a snack.”

She rose from the bed, rolling her hip like a siren and strolled across the room. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” And then she blew him a kiss, leaving him to stare after her in shock.

He shook his head and turned back to his room. Her towel lay on the floor in a heap by the sink, toothbrush and toothpaste crammed behind the faucet knobs. A wash cloth hung over the edge of the tub, water dripping onto the floor. Everywhere he looked, his domain had been disturbed. Aaron took a deep breath and counted to ten. He'd never seen anything like it, not even Beth, his younger sister, who'd gotten in trouble her whole life for not cleaning her room, could touch Celine Latimer.

He wouldn't be able to think straight until the mayhem was righted, but he couldn't touch their clean clothes with dirt covering most of his body. Aaron carefully picked through the piles on the bed and located his body wash and boxer briefs and then got in the shower. He had to lay down some house rules, just like they did in the barracks. Each man had his own job, she just needed a little direction.

Finally clean, Aaron pulled on a pair of gym shorts and faced the challenge. He attacked the dirty clothes first, throwing them in the wicker basket next to the shower. Next he folded the clothes, separating them into T-shirts and shorts and underwear. As he sorted them, he kicked something under the end of the bed and he bent down to pull out a discarded bag. A quick look inside revealed the small travel blow dryer and straightener still in their packages, along with multiple makeup items the girl at the counter had helped him pick out. Celine must've completely missed this in her attempt to destroy his room.

Deciding they might come in handy later, he put the items up in the vanity and then finished cleaning the room. Now that the room had been cleaned, he could put in that call to Mr. K, check in with Merc, and then change Celine's bandage. After that, he had no idea.

XXX

Celine yanked the loaf of bread from the counter and tossed it on the island, her tummy growling as she went to the refrigerator and pulled out the ham, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and mustard.

Crazy man. What was his deal? It wasn't like she'd destroyed his bedroom on purpose, she's just unpacked. Did he expect her to keep everything he'd bought in the bags?

She tilted the loaf of bread up and emptied a few pieces on her plate. Next she opened the bag of ham, inhaling the mouthwatering smell. Food. She never appreciated food so much in her life.

This sandwich would be the biggest, bad ass sandwich on planet earth.

Once she finished stacking it high, she poured on the mustard, slapped on the top piece of bread and took a big bite, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

She'd gone so long on stale water and scraps her stomach had shrunk and the doctor at Mr. Mankel's, or Mr. J’s, palace had forbidden her more than small, incremental meals at a time. And the food at the hospital...well, yuck. But this, now this was a real American sandwich and she would savor every last bite.

She heard the shower cut off and Aaron's footsteps cross the floor. After the fifth pass back and forth, she shrugged and went back to eating. He could pace a hole in the floor for all she cared. She took another bite, cherishing the explosion of flavor from the vine ripened tomatoes, and sagged against the counter. She'd take her time with this one and then when she finished, she'd make another.

“I've got an idea. I think we need to look higher than we originally thought. O'Keefe couldn't get that kind of access without some serious weight from the inside.” Aaron's voice drifted down the stairs through the open door.

“Exactly. You handling it okay?”

Celine took another bite and carried her sandwich to the doorway, completely unashamed to be eavesdropping. This was her life too.

“Roger. I'll wait for your call.”

The bed creaked and then he spoke again. “Merc, brother, any luck on finding your uncle?”

Uncle? Who was Merc?

“I'm on a secure line too. Shit. I thought for sure having his alias, Jack Mankel, would give you a lead. What about Caroline? Any traffic with her?”

The bread turned to dust in her mouth and Celine had to force herself to swallow the last bite.

“Any idea on a time line?”

She heard Aaron’s footsteps as he began to pace again. “Me, too, brother. I'd give anything to see that traitorous murderer finally gets what he deserves. I still dream about Shane taking that bullet.”

She tried to piece together his conversation. She'd heard of Shane Carter. He'd been declared killed in action almost two years ago now. Had Aaron seen Mr. J kill him?

“You know how bad I want to be there, but I can't leave her like this. Not until we find out who tried to take her out in D.C.”

Her. Celine. He couldn't leave her.

“Yeah, I feel it too. You’re close. You'll take him out this time. Just...just let me know when he's finished, okay? I need to know he's dead.”

Her knees went weak and she collapsed against the door. According to everything she'd put together, from O'Keefe at the CIA, what Aaron had told her, and the conversation upstairs, Aaron Speirs had been tracking Mr. J for two years. And he was giving up his chance to catch him for her. He was putting her first.

“Roger. Out.”

Heart in her throat, Celine rushed back to the counter and shoved her shaking hands to her hair. She'd been so selfish thinking only about herself and how he affected her, completely ignoring the fact that the man who had not only martyred one of Aaron's teammates, but had tried to murder his entire team, was within his grasp.

She should talk to him, explore whatever this was between them and find out once and for all if he had any feelings for her and be ready to deal if he said no.

Then she had to let him go. He needed to be with his team for this mission.

Celine grabbed the bread and threw together a couple more sandwiches. A few minutes later she went upstairs to a spotless bedroom and a shirtless Aaron.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I kinda need to use, you know...” She nodded towards the toilet. Instead of getting all embarrassed, he stood to his full height and crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed. “That's fine, just try not to touch anything, okay?”

“Sure.”

“That didn't come out right.” He dropped his arms and shifted to his left foot. “Listen, this is kind of my sanctuary. When I'm overseas, everything is so polluted and nasty. But when I'm here, I can keep everything clean and it makes me feel...better.”

Her heart lurched at his confession. She knew she was a little bit untidy. Her family had bemoaned that fact regularly. But this wasn't her house and it obviously meant a lot to him. “Thank you for telling me. I'll try to do better, but I can't make any promises, I'm afraid I was born a mess – at least that's what my dad says.”

He came to her then, and cupped her cheek, stealing her breath right out of her body.

“That's enough for me.”

Celine jumped back, at a loss for how to react. “So your food is in the kitchen. I'll be down in a little bit.”

“Take your time, oh yeah, check the sink vanity, there's something in it for you.”

Celine stared at her reflection over the mirror, totally dejected at her appearance. Her hair had dried with a big fat crinkle all the way around and hung in limp hanks. With absolutely no make-up, she looked washed out. She was supposed to make him want her like this? Dejected, she pulled open the drawer under the sink. It took her a full minute for her mind to register what was there. Reverently, she reached in and caressed the mini-blow dryer and round brush. He'd even bought her a curling wand. Filling up the rest of the drawer were all kinds of make-up, powders, and brushes.

She lifted the strawberry flavored lip gloss and twisted off the top, inhaling her favorite scent.

No, she hadn't really tried with him, at all. But she would. And he'd have to tell her to her face that he didn't want her.