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

“What man in the desert? And who is Mr. Mankel?”

Her nails dug deeper. “There was a nasty man, he was Arabic or something, he kept us locked up in a tiny cell without food or water for what seemed like forever. He – he – “she stuttered.

His whole body constricted with realization. “He’s the one who gave you the bruises?”

He felt her nod against his chest, her breath hitched on a fresh sob and ripped another chunk out of his soul. “What’s his name?”

He would hunt the bastard down and rip his fucking balls from his body and feed them to him. And then Aaron would kill him. Slowly. He’d learned all sorts of ways to make a man suffer before death.

“I don’t know. He didn’t speak English. He just kept us locked up most of the time.” Her voice trailed off at the end so that he had to bend down to catch her words.

Shit. He didn’t know if he could hear this now. Or ever. She needed a counselor. She needed a woman like his Noni to talk to. Not some dumb soldier.

His fault.

“Tell me about the other guy.” He knew he was a coward for changing the direction of her conversation and he accepted that fact. He sure as hell couldn’t sit here calmly and listen to her tell him how some filthy hired assassin had used her body.

“Mr. Mankel. He showed up after a couple of weeks, at least I think it was a couple of weeks. We weren’t ever allowed out so I’m not sure exactly. But Mr. Mankel negotiated our release from him and took us to his palace.”

“Can you describe Mr. Mankel?” No one else had been sent to rescue the girls other than TF-Scorpion and Delta Force that he was aware of.

“He was tall and had a big chest, like really big and tall. He always wore a suit, but it was like he shouldn’t wear a suit, you know? He had black hair with silver at the temples. He was some sort of an ambassador.”

Aaron stopped breathing. She’d just described Mr. J. He managed to croak out, “Go on.”

“He had a doctor check out me and Caroline, although I didn’t get to see her after he saved us. He said she was too sick. But he kept us safe. He asked me all about my home, my family, my education. Gave me clothes and food and a beautiful room.”

He’d pumped her for information to sell her to Dmitri. Dammit.

“Ow, Aaron you’re hurting me,” Celine said.

He took a breath and forced his arms to relax. “Did he tell you his full name?”

“Jack Mankel.”

Jesus Christ. He had to call Colonel Grey and tell him Mr. J’s alias. They could track him with that. Palace. Jack Mankel. Wore suits. “Do you know where he took you? What town? Any land marks?”

“No, I passed out on the ride to his palace. His place was surrounded by desert, completely, but inside the walls was heaven. Green grass. Bright flowers and fountains. My room was so luxurious… he had all kinds of guards. And a daughter. She – she…”

“She what?”

Celine shook her head. “I don’t know. My memory is kind of a fog. I keep remembering her in that blue burka and for some reason I want to think she looked like Caroline, but I never saw her face.”

Her voice filled with worry and confusion and Aaron immediately sought to comfort her. “It’s okay. They gave you a pretty strong cocktail to knock you out. It would be weird if you
did
remember everything clearly.”

“Anyway, the last thing I remember is going to sleep the night before and waking up here.”

Aaron hugged her to him tight as he processed her words. She’d basically just told him Mr. J had left them in captivity for two weeks with the man hired to kidnap them. Then he’d sold Celine to a slaver and kept Caroline for whatever plan he’d concocted. But now they had intel Mr. J had never planned on them finding.

“Do you think he’s already sent Caroline home?” Celine’s wobbly voice penetrated his thoughts.

“I don’t think so, honey.” No need to tell her exactly who Jack Mankel was or that he was responsible for her kidnapping and near slavery. Or for her rape.

Celine gripped his hand, her fingers convulsively clenching around his. Aaron gently rubbed his thumb back and forth across her palm.

Celine relaxed into his arms, her fingers opening wider as he traced larger and larger patterns over her palm. The urge to care for her held command and he leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. He would avenge her. He would kill the man who’d hurt her and then he’d wipe Jack Mankel and all his evil from the face of the earth.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The plane ride home was heaven and hell. Someone in the government had rented a private jet, complete with plush couches and an attendant and pilot. Once in the air, Aaron pulled Celine into his lap again, making her feel protected. Like him knowing and seeing her injuries hadn’t repulsed him after all.

The nuns hadn’t had anything to change into out of her gown except a long tunic which the color could only be described as a non-color. Some sort of off white, tan, dirt…Ugh.

His thumb slid to her wrist, meandering back and forth across her skin. Feather light tingles spread up to her shoulders in delicious tendrils. She let out a small sigh. “So we're both stuck on here until we land. Why do you think they went to the expense of renting a private jet?”

“Sweetheart, I stopped trying to figure out the government a long time ago. But if Colonel Grey arranged for us to be here, it's for a reason, and I trust him with my life. Therefore, I trust him with yours, too.”

What must it be like to trust someone so much? Sure she trusted her family, even though they spent more time working than being together, and even though her mother had pretty much given them the finger and run off with a drug head. She trusted Caroline, but didn’t know where she was. Maybe she trusted Kate, but anyone else? Anyone she could boldly say she’d gladly put her life in their hands?

There'd been a few boyfriends here and there, but they'd always managed to find someone better, someone more settled that they could marry and have kids with. Her last boyfriend had pretty much told her she'd been great for a girlfriend, but wasn't wife material.

Celine realized there was no one in her life in which she could put her complete faith.

As a stylist and fashion boutique owner, she'd helped lots of women pick out their clothes for hot dates and wedding parties and honeymoons – but never herself. Celine Latimer – always number two.

“Hey, what's going on in that mind of yours?”

Aaron's gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was just like everyone else. As soon as she was out of danger, he'd dump her at her doorstep and hop it back overseas.

“Nothing.” She tried to ease her hand from his.

“Nothing, huh?”

He wanted her to spill the beans about the little mental pity party going on her head? No way. “Just silently loving this outfit the good Sister gave me. How long do you think it’ll be before we touch down? I really need to hit up a TJ Maxx.”

“A what?”

“You know, get some real clothes...what I wouldn't give for a pair of Gianni Binni's and the latest DKNY romper.”

“You're telling me you just had a look like someone killed your dog…about your clothes?” Aaron asked incredulously.

“You carry a gun to make you feel comfortable, I dress in fashion.”
And avoid topics like this at all costs.

“I know you're lying to me, but seeing as how you've been through a lot of stress lately, I'll let it go this time.” Aaron shifted her closer.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable so I can hear the rest of your story, because I don't believe for one second you're worried about your clothes or your hair or any of that nonsense.”

“Have you looked at me recently? I could give The Walking Dead a run for their money. No makeup, my hair flat as a board, and this...” She grabbed the tail of her tunic and gave a shudder of disgust.

Aaron grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “You're beautiful.”

Celine gasped at the instant stamp of heat his lips left on her skin. “You're crazy.”

He immediately dropped her hand and a shadow crossed his face behind the grin. “I didn't go into the Special Forces because I was sane, honey.”

She felt the shadow fall over him and wanted to take back whatever she’d done to cause it. She grabbed his hand and he practically devoured her with his gaze and her body reacted, her breasts went heavy and her tummy tingled. Jesus, if he could do this to her with a look he would destroy her in bed.

His gaze dropped to her lips, those molten baby browns darkened to nearly black. She was a goner. She knew it. She wanted his kiss more than anything else in the world. Aaron Speirs could devour her and she'd forget everything.

He lowered his head, his lips hovered just above hers, his breath fanning across her face. She held still, afraid if she moved he might change his mind, he might pull away. She could practically feel the heat of his lips on hers.

He hung suspended there, out of reach, and then he dropped her hand and pulled away. Needles pricked her heart and she sucked in a breath. He picked her up from his lap and sat her next to him, as if he had to put distance between them or throw up or something.

Just like at the wedding. Heat suffused her face and she turned quickly away before he could see the tears his rejection caused. Was he waking up from his hero syndrome now that he’d safely rescued his damsel in distress?

He got up and paced the cabin. “Celine, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried that, not right after your ordeal.”

“What do you mean?” She hastily wiped away the wetness in her eyes. She wouldn’t put herself out there again. She couldn’t.

He cast a wary glance her way. “I mean, after, you know…” Aaron waved his hands in her direction.

She dropped her brows and a frown tugged at her lips. “After what? My kidnapping?”

“You were raped and I’m pawing at you like a beast.”

She froze, fear milking the heat from her body. “When I was drugged? You saw them, I was – “

“I didn’t see anything but the bruises.”

Celine swallowed convulsively. “I thought the Sister’s said I was fine.”

Aaron cut across the cabin and dropped to a knee in front of her, taking her hand in his. His tortured expression raking across her like shards of ice. “You weren’t recently, but those bruises aren’t more than a week old. Look, you don’t have to talk about what happened in the beginning, with the first man, but I swear I’d rather die than make you feel uncomfortable.”

A rush of relief took the wind out of her hurt and she reached a hand forward to caress his cheek. “He didn’t rape me. He tried, but I escaped.”

He pressed her hand against his face and a thrill ran up her arm. The touch connected them. Grounded them like a lightning rod in a storm.

All the want and need and pent up desire struck. Celine leaned down, trembling from the emotions and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

Aaron blinked rapidly, moisture gathering in his gaze. “It was my fault you were there. I’m so damn sorry.”

Her heart gave a solid whack against her chest. “No it’s not. It’s his fault, the man who kidnapped us. You’re the one who saved me.”

Aaron groaned and dropped his head into her lap, unable to help herself, she threaded her fingers through his thick blond hair, savoring how it tickled her skin.

“You’re wrong, Celine. I should never have brought you in on the mission in the first place. It
is
my fault and I’ll spend the rest of my life knowing I’m the reason for your bruises.”

She forced him to look up at her, cupping his jaw in her hands. “Is that why you pulled away from me just then? Because you were trying to be a gentleman?”

He gave her a wrenching half-smile. “Yeah.”

“Do us both a favor and stop treating me like a china doll, okay?”

“Are you sure you don’t need more space?”

“I don’t know what I need, but I do know I feel safer when you’re with me.”

Aaron shuddered again but he didn’t move away. Celine patted the seat beside her in invitation. He took her up on her invite and scooped her into his lap once again. “Do you care if I hold you like this for a little while?”

“Absolutely not.” Celine snuggled against his chest, savoring the feeling of his strong arms and warm earthy scent. She intended to stay here as long as she could.

The plane touched down at exactly midnight, a thick D.C. fog rolling around the ground like a scepter stalking its territory for intruders. As the pilot pulled up to the waiting staircase, Aaron had already gone back into full blown soldier mode, where he ordered people around and shielded her from everyone and everything, touching her but not really, more like he was afraid she'd shatter if he stepped too far out of reach.

Their one flight attendant opened the hatch and Celine shuffled out onto the deck on legs that felt like day old jello left out on the counter, ready to melt right out from beneath her body. Her chest throbbed and every time she bent her right arm, she felt the swelling from when she'd so violently ripped out her IV. If the wind picked up she might blow right over.

“It's just an airport, honey.” Aaron whispered near her ear, his warm breath sending a fresh wave of shivers down her neck and she leaned into him for support.

“I realize that, just give me a minute,” she whispered right back. She gazed out over the empty parking lot, fighting off the wave of dread pushing down on her from the inky moonless sky. Her breaths puffed out in front of her and she shivered from the cold. When they'd left Afghanistan, she'd been dressed for the desert heat, in a thin loose tunic provided by the good Sister Mary Catherine, now she wished she'd stopped to grab a sweater and some pants. Celine glanced down at her worn leather sandals, wondering how they'd stand up against the light mist falling on the concrete.

“You'll do fine. Just put one foot in front of the other.” Aaron's hand wrapped around her waist, intimate and touching her deeper than he probably realized. She'd come to completely rely on him since the small hospital, even though she knew it was a weakness she couldn't hold on to forever, no matter how much she wished for it to never end.

“I remember how to walk. Just getting my air legs back.”

Aaron chuckled, “I believe they’re called sea legs, sweetheart, and that's for sailor's who've been on a ship for months.”

“Shows what you know. My great-uncle C.W. flew in Vietnam. He talked all the time about getting his air legs.”

“Whatever you say, darlin', as long as you start working your way off this plane.” He nudged her forward and Celine purposefully leaned back. She'd go when she was ready. And right now, the empty black pavement wasn't exactly the welcome home party she'd imagined.

Not that she should have imagined anything since she technically wasn't here. Or anywhere. “So what am I supposed to do? As soon as I go home, everyone will know. I don't have anywhere to hide out.”

“Don't you worry about that; I've got it all handled. As soon as our guys get here with our transport, I'll fill you in.”

She doubted very much he'd tell her everything once they got in a car together. They'd had a whole plane ride to discuss her future, and yet, not. Every conversation seemed to change when she brought up what would happen when they touched down.

She needed to get back on her own two feet and stop standing on top of his. Celine drew in a shaky breath and took her first step down on the metal grated staircase, her legs as wobbly as the loose metal railing.

She reached the bottom, her feet officially on US soil for the first time in weeks. Celine tilted her head back and inhaled the sense of freedom. There would be no more cloying clothes or bowing to men and their fists. She could go where ever and whenever she pleased.

A black sedan pulled up next to them and two men got out, the word ‘government’ practically tattooed on their matching black suits.

“Miss Latimer? Mr. Speirs?” The nearest man, a big brute with a black buzz cut asked.

“Yes?”

“I'm Daniel and this is Eli, we're here to transport you.” Bright lights from the airport strained against the dark, casting Daniel's shadow over her and she tried not to shiver as he focused on her with flat gray eyes. “If you'd like to accompany me to the car, I've been assigned as your personal bodyguard.”

Eli stayed near the car, toking on a cigarette like it was the last shot of crack for a junkie, shifting from foot to foot as his beady gaze flickered across the empty lot.

Celine took a step back, uneasy with the two men, and bumped into a familiar hard chest. “It’s okay, Colonel Grey sent them.” Aaron's hand dropped on her shoulder, heavy and reassuring.

Daniel his expression about as welcoming as a pit bull in a cage fight, turned to Aaron and said, “I was told you might be leaving with the plane to resume your mission overseas.”

Celine spun, unable to hide her sense of betrayal, but Aaron’s expression had changed, going blank, just like she remembered from the wedding party. She could feel him distancing himself from her even though he never let go of her shoulder, the mental withdrawal another blow.

“My mission is to safely escort Miss Latimer home. I will not leave her side until that mission is completed.”

Mission. She was a mission, wasn't she? But the way he said it, so clinical, as if she were a thing and not a human.

“Roger. Let’s go, I’m tired of standing in the rain.” Daniel turned and went to his sedan, holding the back door open. Aaron grabbed their one duffel bag and escorted her to the car, squeezing in the back seat right beside her.