Surrender at Dawn (4 page)

She sat down and grabbed the rudder. She skimmed across the choppy water and rounded the tip of the island, praying all the while that no one could see or hear her.

At her feet, the radio crackled. She snatched it up.

“Bravo… dock… south end.”

“What?”

“I said… dock… side.”

“There’s a dock?”

“Affirmative.”

“How will I--”

“Flashlight… you… close as you can.... Roger that?”

Pop!

Charlotte dropped the radio at the sound of the gunshot.
Someone was shooting at them!
She groped for the radio and finally got her hands on it. “Jack? Jack, are you there?
Jack?
”

Panicked, she headed for the island. She hadn’t caught every word of what he’d said, but she’d gotten the gist of it. She was looking for a flashlight signal. Assuming he was still alive to signal her. Heart racing now, she curved around the southern tip of the island. Her stomach clenched as she saw nothing but the hulking shadow of the island itself. No lights. No signals. She tried the binoculars, but didn’t see any warm bodies or even anything resembling a dock. She maneuvered closer to the shore, hoping she wouldn’t get caught up on the reef she’d seen from Jack’s plane.

Suddenly a flicker, there in the darkness. She peered through the binoculars. A large figure moved quickly toward the shore. Jack. And he had someone in a fireman’s carry.

Please, please, please be okay.
She didn’t know whether she was praying for Davey or Jack. Both, she decided.

Another blink, close this time. Charlotte stowed the binoculars and steered the boat towards it. When she was almost there, she cut the engine and the dinghy drifted right into the dock. A shadow crouched to catch it.

“Nice work.” Jack’s voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

“Are you okay? I heard a gunshot!”

“Yeah, one of the guards wasn’t too happy when he noticed his hostage was gone. Good thing his aim isn’t worth shit.”

Jack lowered something into the boat.
Davey.
She grabbed hold of the body and instantly recognized her brother as she helped ease him aboard.

He groaned, and Charlotte’s heart skipped. She got to her knees beside him. “What happened?”

“He took a beating.”

She jumped at the words.“Who--”

“I’m Jane.” A woman stepped aboard the boat. It was too dark to even see her in the shadows.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me your brother had a girlfriend.” Jack finally stepped aboard, and they were packed together like sardines. He didn’t waste time jerking the cord and bringing the engine to life.

Gunfire erupted from the beach. Jack shoved Charlotte’s head against the floor of the boat. “Everybody down.”

The boat lurched forward, and they were skipping over the waves. Charlotte clutched Davey’s hand as the
rat-tat-tat
of machine-gun fire shattered the night.

“Hurry!” Charlotte pleaded. “They could hit the raft!”

Jack tossed a glance over his shoulder as they rocketed across the water.

“What if they follow us?” This from the Jane.

“By the time they figure out which way is up, we’ll be airborne,” Jack said. “Now everyone hang on. It’s time to haul ass.”

Jack ended his cell phone call and gazed across the treetops at the marina where he’d left his plane. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he was in Charlotte Whiteside’s hotel room. She was down the hall with her brother and his girlfriend, who were being checked out by some Thai doctor the concierge had managed to scare up at 0400 hours.

David Whiteside was safe. Mission accomplished. Jack had about sixteen things he needed to be doing right now and not one of them involved standing on Charlotte’s balcony, waiting for her to come back here and collapse on that giant bed.

He needed to leave. Now. He’d fulfilled his obligation to Mark, and the honorable thing to do would be to disappear into the night like the elusive Spec Ops warrior that he was.

But Jack didn’t want to do the honorable thing. He wanted to do Charlotte.

A lamp went on in the room behind him. The sliding glass door scraped open, and he turned around to face her.

She nodded at his phone as she stepped outside. “Who’d you call at this hour?”

She still wore the sea-soaked clothes she’d had on in the dinghy, and the wind had turned her hair into a riot of yellow curls. She looked drained and disheveled and so goddamn pretty he wanted to pull her inside and throw her down on the bed.

Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets right along with his phone. “Just talked to a buddy of mine at the embassy. They’re sending someone down from Bangkok to talk to Davey and Jane.”

“Why do they need to talk to him?”

He gazed down at her, knowing he couldn’t give her too many details, but wanting to, so maybe she’d understand better what he was about to do. Because she wasn’t going to like it. He didn’t know Charlotte very well, but he knew that much.

“Did Davey tell you what he was doing on that island?” he asked.

“He went down there for an interview. Jane’s his photographer, so she went, too. He said they were invited.”

Yeah, invited to be used as jihadists.

“He give you a name?”

She shook her head, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. It was the one smart move the kid had managed so far.

She eased closer, watching his face carefully. “I’m guessing it’s not Chanarong.”

Jack just looked at her.

“I’m also guessing it’s someone affiliated with Al Qaeda. Someone important.”

“Where’d you get that?”

“Jane told me. She said some of the people on the island were speaking Arabic. She thinks the place is some sort of training camp.”

It was. It was also a staging ground for a major operation, but Jack didn’t say that. Jane had told him the name of the man they’d come to interview. He was a leader of Jemaah Islamiyah, an Al Qaeda affiliate based in Southeast Asia.

“Looks like Chanarong’s got himself some new friends,” Jack said vaguely.

The less Charlotte knew about all this, the better. But he had a feeling she understood much more than she was letting on because her eyes were shadowed with wariness.

“Your brother and Jane were very,
very
lucky to get out of there alive.”

That hadn’t been the plan. Jack didn’t know the plan--not exactly--but he felt pretty sure it involved the building he’d seen circled in red on that map of Manila. What better way to smuggle a bomb into the American Embassy than to have two American tourists waltz it right through the door?

Or maybe just one of them. Probably Jane. It was certainly no accident the militant leader on that island had selected an American couple to come interview him. He probably figured his men could threaten the stronger one with torture to get the weaker one to do his bidding.

Charlotte eased closer, and Jack felt a sharp stab of protectiveness. He didn’t want her anywhere near this thing, and yet here she was, caught in the middle because of her idiot brother.

Jack gritted his teeth. He couldn’t make it right, but he could do damage control. Which was what he needed to do. Right now. Jack was in possession of valuable, time-sensitive intel. And he knew a SEAL commander in the area who was more than eager to get his hands on it.

Charlotte slid her arms around Jack’s waist and gazed up at him.

“I need to go,” he said.

She tipped her head to the side. “It’s four in the morning.”

“I have to be somewhere in exactly three hours. And I have to fly.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Confusion? Hurt? But then it was replaced by a cool determination. She tipped her chin up, exposing her neck to him in that thin white blouse. It was dry now, but it had been wet before, out on the dinghy, and he wondered if she had any idea how much he’d wanted to peel it off of her. How much he still wanted to.

Her hips shifted, and he stared down at her. She knew. She knew exactly what she did to him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

He had to go. He
needed
to go.

“Charlotte--”

She went up on tiptoes and kissed him, just below his ear. It was a soft, timid kiss, and it sent a powerful jolt of lust straight through him.

Then she pressed her mouth to his, and it was all over. What little willpower he’d had vanished. He pulled her against him, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth and trying to devour her in one greedy bite. She tried to devour him right back. She was hot and ready and he could practically taste the energy humming through her system, because it was humming through his, too. And he knew what this was. This was about danger, and life-or-death situations, and all the things she’d felt tonight that she wasn’t used to feeling. Jack had trained himself to deal with his body’s response to danger, but Charlotte was utterly untrained. She just surrendered to it, gave into the urge, and no matter what logic his brain threw at him, Jack’s body was right in sync with hers--amazingly, perfectly in sync. He molded her against him, and she moaned into his mouth, and he knew that there was
no way
he was putting the brakes on. He’d fly like a bat out of hell if he had to, but he wasn’t going anywhere this minute besides Charlotte’s bed.

He slid a hand between them and tried to undo her buttons, but his fingers were too big for the little holes. She took over the job, and soon her shirt was on the floor of the balcony, followed by her bra. Jack didn’t even give himself time to look. He just scooped her off her feet and carried her through the doorway, then laid her down on the bed. She propped up on her elbows and watched him as he got rid of his shoes and T-shirt. Then he kneeled beside her, and she rolled into him, laughing, as he filled his hand with one of those plump white breasts he’d been fantasizing about all day. He took her in his mouth, and her body arched.

“
Jack.
”

She said his name in that soft Southern accent that reminded him of home and heat and places he hadn’t been in a long, long time. He nuzzled her breasts. With his free hand, went to work on her shorts. She went to work on his, too, and pretty soon they were skin to skin, and he felt her bare legs wrapping around him and pulling him closer.

She said his name again and nipped his ear, and he nearly went off.

“Wait.” He grabbed his shorts, fumbled for a condom, and barely managed to get it on before she pulled him again, and he sank into her sweet heat.

She was heaven. She gazed up at him and moved with him, urging him on with her sighs and her hips as he supported his weight above her and battled for control. He didn’t have it. He didn’t have nearly the control he needed to take on this woman-- this warm, lush woman who’d turned herself over to him completely.

He kissed her again, loving her taste, her scent, the way she moved beneath him. She trusted him. He felt it in her clasping hands. He saw it in her smoky eyes as she let herself get lost in the pleasure he was giving her. She whispered in his ear, over and over, and time spun out as he tried to give her what she wanted, tried not to stop, tried not to let it end, even though it was a losing battle. She wrapped her arms around him and said his name. And finally he felt her coming apart, and his world became a blinding flash of pleasure.

For an endless moment, he just lay there, too wasted to move. But he knew he must be crushing her, so he rolled over on his back and pulled her with him.

She didn’t say anything. She just nestled her head against his chest and sighed deeply.

Jack closed his eyes, and several minutes ticked by as their heart rates came down from the stratosphere. Her breathing slowed, and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

“You’re still with them, aren’t you?”

He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “With who?”

“The SEALs. You never really left.”

She propped up on an elbow and watched him. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

He glanced at her with a questioning look, and she rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Jack. The night vision binoculars? The phone call? The urgent meeting you have to race off for?”

He sighed. “I’m not a SEAL anymore.”

She searched his face. “But you want to be. And you’re helping them. You’re going to help someone bust up that terrorist cell.”

He looked at her for a moment, then reached over and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Why do I keep underestimating you?”

“People do it all the time.” She smiled slightly, and then looked down at his chest. She traced a little pattern with her fingernail. “I’m sorry I got you into this. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He cupped his hand over hers. “I’m glad you got me into this.” He remembered the way he’d felt staring down at that map, seeing his country’s embassy circled in red. Something had shifted inside him. He’d had a purpose before, all those years as a SEAL. He hadn’t had a purpose that mattered in a very long time, and he wanted to go back. Charlotte had given him that. As long as he lived, he’d be indebted to her for it. Maybe someday he’d even find a way to repay her.

She rested her head against his chest, and he pulled her closer. He felt her shoulders tense. She was fighting tears, and he didn’t know if it was for his benefit or hers, but held onto her and let her win the fight.

The room was washed with the gray light of dawn when she woke up and realized he’d gone. She sat up and looked around. On Jack’s pillow was a paper airplane. She picked it up and saw the note written on it:
If you ever need me, just call. –J.
Beneath the words was a phone number. It was a U.S. number. Los Angeles, if she wasn’t mistaken. She remembered his Dodgers cap. Maybe he still had some ties to home after all, ties that might bring him back someday. She shrugged into her robe and tucked the note safely inside the pocket.

She crossed the room and slid open the door to the balcony. Birds trilled from the trees below. She gazed out at the sleepy marina, where the tourist boats still bobbed placidly beside the dock. Her gaze followed a silver Cessna as it taxied across the harbor and picked up speed. Charlotte’s breath caught as it shot up into the air. It receded toward the west, then made a wide arc and circled back.