A SEAL to Save Her (10 page)

Except that last dream, the one he was having before he woke up, had been more intense. More explicit. More real.

Damn, he had to make them stop. But that was hard when she was again snuggled up to him as if she, too, couldn't keep away from him in sleep.

He heard a small sound, like a catch in her breath, and she started to shift against him. He looked down at her. “Piper?” he said.

There was a soft, muffled sound, and his heart jammed up in his chest, then started to pound in a different rhythm. She didn't wake up. Instead, she cried out in her sleep. “Brad! No. No. Please, God. Please. I'll do anything. No!”

She was sobbing now and the sound was of the deepest agony; he realized how much she had loved her husband and she was once again reliving that nightmare. And he knew how real it could all seem.

Dex knew he couldn't let her continue. He shook her hard. “Piper. Wake up!”

She came out of the nightmare sobbing, as if she didn't quite realize she was awake. He rose into a sitting position; his wound was aching, but it was bearable. Bracing himself against the wall, he brought her up with him.

“It's all right, sweetheart,” he murmured gruffly. “It was a nightmare.”

She resisted for a moment, then relented, her arms sliding around him, drawing a deep, shuddering breath as she cried, her tears running down his chest. “It was so real.”

“I know,” he whispered. Pressing her head to his shoulder, he gathered her up in a tight embrace and his hand tangled in her hair. Shifting so she was flat against him, he shut his eyes, the rush of tactile sensation so intense that he had to grit his teeth against it. He tightened his hold on her, his heart hammering, his breathing constricted. She moved, sending a shock wave of heat through him, and he clutched her head, the feel of her almost too much to handle.

His fingers snagging in her hair, he tucked his head against hers, forcing himself to remain immobile. Every muscle in his body demanded that he move, and his nerve endings tingled as if they were stripped raw, but he tried to ignore the feelings pounding through him. She had no idea what she was doing to him, but he was all too aware of what was happening.

It took him a while, but he finally got himself under control, and he could finally breathe without it nearly killing him. He adjusted his hold on her, drawing her deeper into his embrace, his lungs constricting. Seeing such a strong, brave woman come apart like this humbled him; there was so much pain inside her that she finally had to get it all out. The thought of her going through something like this a second time made him completely understand all her fears. It sobered him like little else had, and he pressed her head against him, a dozen regrets settling in his chest. If only... If only...

Knowing nothing good could come from going there, he tightened his arms around her and simply held her, the fullness in his chest expanding. She was so torn up. And vulnerable. And he wasn't sure how he was going to get them both out of this without getting in a wreck.

He was so close to the edge that it wouldn't take a whole hell of a lot to push him over. And she felt so good and smelled so good and, damn, he wanted to feel her flush against him.

Unable to control the urge, he pulled her across his lap, turning his face against her neck and clenching his teeth. He hoped she was so far out of it that she wouldn't notice the state he was in.

But she wasn't that far out of it. She went still in his arms, then made a low, desperate sound and twisted her head, her mouth suddenly hot and urgent against his. The bolt of pure, raw sensation knocked the wind right out of him. Dex shuddered, and he widened his mouth against hers, feeding on the desperation that poured back and forth between them. She made another wild sound and clutched at him, the movement welding their bodies together like two halves of a whole, and he nearly lost it right then. But the taste of tears cut through his senses, and he dragged his mouth away from hers, his heart pounding like a locomotive in his chest.

Wrong. God, this was wrong. She was an emotional wreck and she didn't know what she was doing—she was just reacting, reaching for comfort. And it was dangerous. There was too much going on here, between them, to them, too much need, and it would be too easy—God, so easy—to just let it happen.

Trying to regain some control, he held her with every ounce of strength he had, fighting for every breath. Somehow he had to put the brakes on. Somehow.

Inhaling jaggedly, he pulled her head closer, turning his face against hers. “Easy,” he whispered against her hair. “Easy, sweetheart. It's all okay.”

An anguished sob was wrenched from her, and she clutched him tighter, as if she were trying to climb right inside him. There was so much desperation in that one small sound, so much fire, it was like a knife in his chest. Her arms locked around him and she choked out his name; then she moved against him, silently pleading with him, pleading with her body—and any connection he had with reason shattered into a thousand pieces.

The feel of her heat against him was too much, and he clenched his jaw, turning his head restlessly against her soft hair. His face contorting from the surge of desire, he caught her around the hips, welding her roughly against him. God, he needed this—the heat of her, the weight of her. Her. He needed her.

Piper made another low sound, then she inhaled raggedly and pulled herself up against his erection, her voice breaking on a low sob of relief. “Dex. Please, I need to feel alive again.” She moved against him again, and Dex tightened his hold even more, unable to stop as he involuntarily responded. Body to body, heat to heat, and suddenly there was no turning back.

When he'd woken up, she'd been so close to him, her hand on his face as if in the night she'd needed to check for fever. He was toast. He took a deep breath and got all of her deep into his lungs. She slowly opened her eyes as he exhaled. For long moments she just stared right into his soul. Then he smiled because he saw her soul, and this...
this
was an unbreakable woman. Tears gathered in those goddamn beautiful eyes. Silently they tracked down her cheeks. She cupped his face, her palm traveling over three days' growth of beard, her thumb caressing his cheek, and then she swiped right over his mouth. He closed his eyes to better absorb the sensation. He felt her tremble and he opened his eyes, reaching up to brush away the tears.

“I was so, so scared.”

“I know, but you were so damned brave, baby, so brave. You saved my life.”

She closed her eyes and buried her face into his neck. Her mouth connected with his skin with an electrifying sensation like nothing he'd ever felt before. He grabbed her chin and dragged her face up, settling his mouth over hers with a soft groan of need.

Shifting her head, he covered her mouth in a hot, deep kiss, and she opened to him, moving against him with an urgent hunger. It was too much and not nearly enough, and Dex hauled her across his lap, grunting at the pain of using his torso muscles under the wounds, but not letting it deter him. With one twisting motion, his hard heat was flush against hers. Grasping her buttocks, he thrust against her again and again, a low groan wrenched from him as she moved with him, riding him, riding the hard, thick ridge jammed against her. But that wasn't enough, either. Dex nearly went ballistic, certain he would explode if he didn't get inside her.

“Piper...babe. I need to get...free.”

Making incoherent sounds against his mouth, Piper twisted free, and a violent shudder coursed through Dex when he felt her hands fumble with the cotton covering him. The instant she touched his hard, throbbing erection, he groaned out her name and let go of her, desperate to rid them both of any barriers.

Somehow he got her pants off and pulled the tunic over her head, but the instant he felt her hand close around him, he lost it completely. Jerking her hand away, he lifted her up against him. On the verge of release, he clenched his eyes shut and thrust into her, unable to hold back one second longer. The feel of her, tight and wet, closing around him drove the air right out of him, the sensation so intense he couldn't move.

“Dex, please,” Piper sobbed, and locked her knees against his thighs, her movements urging him on, and Dex crushed her against him, white-hot desire rolling over him. Angling his arm across her back, he drove up into her again and again, the pressure building and building. A low, guttural sound was torn from him, and his release came in a blinding rush that went on and on, so powerful he felt as if he were being turned inside out. He wanted to let it roll over him, to take him under, but he forced himself to keep moving in her, knowing she was on the very edge. She cried out and he clutched at her back, then went rigid in his arms, and she finally convulsed around him, the gripping spasms wringing him dry.

His heart hammering, his breathing so labored he felt almost dizzy, he weakly rested his head against hers, his whole body quivering. He felt as if he had been wrenched in two.

“You pack one hell of a punch, lady,” he rasped.

It wasn't until he shifted his hold and tucked his face against hers that he realized her cheek was wet with tears. Hauling in an unstable breath, he turned his head and kissed her on the neck, a feeling of overwhelming protectiveness rising up his chest. There was no way he could let her go. Not yet. God, not yet. He waited a moment for the knot of emotion to ease, then he smoothed his hand up her back.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded once and tightened her arms around him. “You are such a beautiful man,” she whispered. “You feel so good inside me. So good.” Sharply aware of her full breasts pressed against his chest, he tightened his hold as he twisted and settled her beneath him. With her still straddling him, he drew her head into the curve of his neck and released an unsteady sigh. She tightened her hold on him, and when he settled his weight on her, she shuddered as she took him deeper inside her.

Hit with a rush of emotion, Dex nestled her tighter against him and closed his eyes, slipping his hand up her rib cage over the swell of her breast, thumbing the nipple, needing the feel of her skin against him. He kissed her on the neck as she shivered again and melted around him, and his heart rolled over.

Struggling with guilt and desire, he needed her, feelings he didn't want to acknowledge crowding in on him. She swallowed and swallowed again, and he realized she was struggling with some very raw emotions, as well. His own throat closed up a little. In spite of what they had said, he didn't want her thinking this was just sex. Sex could never be meaningless with her.

“It feels good to be inside you, kissing you. I love kissing you.”

Feeling a little raw himself, he grasped her jaw between his fingers and covered her mouth with a soft, searching kiss, trying to give her some comfort. He tightened his hold on her jaw, then kissed her harder.

He trailed his mouth down her throat and covered her nipple, sucking hard, then used his tongue with a slow, lazy thoroughness. Her breath caught again and she moaned softly. She tasted so good, felt so good, better than anything had in his life.

Her fingernails scraped against his abdomen and he let his breath go in a rush, an electrifying weakness radiating through him. She did it again, and he tightened his hold on her breast, biting her nipple, his shaft growing hard inside her again.

“Dex,”
she breathed. “Don't stop.”

Her breathing grew ragged and uneven, and he shifted his hand lower, rubbing her. A sob was wrenched from her, and she clasped his hand, running her palm over the back, urging him on.

He raised his head and captured her mouth again with a thoroughness that made his own heart stammer. This time he was going to make it so good for her that there would be no doubt in her mind what was happening. This time he was going to show her that, in spite of everything that had happened in the past, she was alive. They were alive.

He flexed his hips, and she rose up to meet him, tightening her muscles around him, and his mind was filled with only her. He couldn't ever get enough of her.

Chapter 9

Outcast
Headquarters,
Kabul, Parwan
Province,
Afghanistan

C
arl was drifting in his chair when his cell rang. “Yes,” he croaked into the receiver.

“I've got something,” Ted said.

“What?”

“Kaczewski saved some villager's life and there's a piece in the
Navy Times
. His name is Raffi Jamal.”

“What village?”

“Safid Darreh. It's not far from here.”

“It's early yet. Get your asses there and find that villager. If the SEAL and senator are there, you know what to do.”

“Yes, sir. Consider it done. I'll call you when it's over.”

Safid Darreh,
Parwan Province, Afghanistan

Piper's rise out of the soft drift of sleep was a languid affair, a lazy meandering of her mind from one pleasant thought to another, the limp relaxation of her body, the comforting sensation of overall well-being. It had been a long, long time since she'd awakened with a sense of such rightness with the world.

Maybe she would get up and go get a double-chocolate mocha latte. She could get triple whipped cream and work those calories off at the gym later. Yeah, work out...

Her eyes popped open on a flash of sudden and total awareness, every cell coming fully awake, the full extent of her current situation hitting her all at once with startling clarity. It wasn't whipped cream she'd worked off and it wasn't the gym she'd used.

Nope, the equipment belonged to Lieutenant Dexter Kaczewski, navy SEAL. The man who had risked his life for her, had pulled stitches and gotten an infection, dragged his wounded body ten miles in blistering heat and had made blazing love to her, explosive sex right here in a village home in the most dangerous country on the planet.

Unprotected sex—because she'd been lost in her misery and her pain and she hadn't been thinking.

Oh, my God, what had she done?

Thank God she couldn't get pregnant.

Very carefully, holding her breath, she slanted her gaze to the right.

What had she done indeed?

Damn, but that was a boneheaded question. What she'd done was as irrefutable as the six feet and two inches of purely nude, achingly male, gorgeous SEAL lying next to her. So obvious as the heat coming off him and the power that so clearly oozed from his body, as she remembered the feel of the dormant energy in the muscles of his arms as he'd held her.

Easily the most beautiful man she'd ever known. The harsh angles of his face were softened by sleep and the morning's pale light. His hair was thick and silky and the color of midnight. Beard stubble darkened his jaw. He looked like a dangerous and disreputable rogue, so removed from her blue-blood world as to be almost unreal.

The covering, pushed down from their tussling, was bunched at their feet. He was completely naked except for the white bandage, and she...she didn't even have a bandage or any decency to call her own right now.

This had been an unexpected situation almost from the beginning when she'd found him devastated over the loss of his men and comforted him. She'd never felt raw and exposed and vulnerable in any man's presence before, not even her husband, but there was something about Dex that reached deep inside her and twisted.

He was the first man since she was twenty-two and had fallen for Brad to make her feel like this...like a total and utter mess. But, oh, God, he was so good at being who he was and she had to admit that she loved that about him.

His honesty was just as true to his nature as his courage.

But this wasn't a normal situation. They were fighting for their lives with death breathing down their necks. Dex wasn't a normal guy; he was an elite navy SEAL, trained in this battleground that until now she'd only seen from afar and in the safety of her own home. Her brother was a SEAL and she was quite aware of how often he got deployed and how little she saw him.

That just wasn't the kind of life she wanted to handle.

Dex had made her think, though. Think hard.

Maybe it was time she took stock of how she'd been living and giving up every shred of her personal life to chase Brad's dream, to live in despair of his loss and the loss of their child. If she kept to this path, she would die inside.

Slowly, a painful, unfulfilled and bitter path.

That's why she'd pushed him. She needed to feel alive. Desired. Wanted.

Dex made her feel more alive than she'd ever thought possible.

“You're thinking pretty hard over there.”

The sound of his deep, husky voice made her look at him. His eyes were caressing her face with that look that made her knees weak. She had no barrier to those eyes and what he held for her in them.

“I'm sorry,” he rasped out, and that was suddenly there, too, in his eyes, his big body turning toward hers, a flinch on his face when he moved.

“No.” She covered his mouth with the tips of two fingers. “Please, don't regret this. I don't. I wanted you. I needed you and you didn't let me down, again.”

He swallowed and pushed her hair off her face. “You are a piece of work, lady. If it's any consolation, I was blindsided by you, your beauty, and I've wanted you almost from the moment I saw you.”

She had to smile at that because he looked so contrite. “I don't need consolation, Dex. Not with you.”

He took a deep breath. “This was about us only being able to rely on each other. Adrenaline, attraction...it's the danger, Piper. Right? We just lost control.”

He was giving her a way out and she took it, because even though she realized that she'd been hiding and running for the last eighteen months, she still didn't have the courage to let go. Her fear of loss was much too embedded.

“Of course. You're right. But I don't regret it.”

“I want you to know I haven't been with anyone for a year and at my last checkup I was clean. I never go commando when it comes to sex and protection of my partner. I don't have any excuse.”

“I haven't been with anyone since my husband, and I can't get pregnant, Dex, so it's all right. We don't really need to worry about it or condoms. You're clean. I'm clean, and I can't conceive.”

He nodded and let out a breath. “We'd better get going. It wouldn't do for Blessing to find us like this.”

“Let me take care of your bandage before we get dressed. Afsana laid out some of Raffi's clothing for you and her son's for me.”

“No more burka?”

“No, thank you. I'd rather dress like a man, and the suit I came here in is completely ruined.”

“I'm partial to what you're wearing right now, if I'm being honest.”

She tipped his chin, bringing his sexy gaze up to hers and his focus off her legs beneath the tunic.

He grinned in a knee-melting, oh-so-sexy male way, his eyes a warm, liquid blue. “Someone is feeling better,” she said, removing the bandage and inspecting the cluster of wounds. “They look really good. Barely red at all and healing.”

She smoothed antibiotic cream carefully over the injuries, trying to stay detached and focused, but it wasn't easy. “The only easy day was yesterday.” Her brother said that enough for her to pick it up.

“Hoo-rah,”
he murmured as if he was picking up on exactly what she was thinking. “You put a whole new spin on that, lady.”

She smiled and rose. “Thanks. I think.”

“Oh, it was a compliment,” he said, sitting there looking delicious with just the covering across his lap. Now that she knew what he was packing under that wrap, she did wish she was home and in a private, safe place with him.

“Get dressed, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied in a deep, sexy voice.

She left the room where Dex was recovering and headed to Afsana's room, brought Dex his set of clothes and went back to wash up. Donning the garments on the bed, she made a mental note to figure out how she could repay this family who had risked so much to shelter them and had helped her to save Dex. For that she would be eternally grateful.

As she wrapped the head scarf around her neck, a hand came around her mouth and something hard pressed into her spine. A voice whispered in her ear. “Hello, Senator. You are a resourceful woman.”

It was Markam's voice.

Oh, God. She was dead.

Bagram Airfield,
Parwan Province, Afghanistan

Austin was at his computer again, running another search for any information on Lieutenant Kaczewski.

He sent sidelong glances in Derrick's direction. He knew the language. That only added to the mounting evidence in Austin's book that he'd pegged the reserved special agent and colleague correctly. He had been a spook.

CIA.

As in black ops, the deep state, experienced at assassination, blackmail, instigating coups, torture and even brainwashing. Something about Afghanistan was getting under Derrick's skin and it wasn't just the sand. Had something happened to Derrick here, something that had him quitting the company? Sending him to NCIS? Austin was convinced Derrick had been here before. His gut was never wrong.

“You keep looking at me,” Derrick said without taking his eyes from his own computer. “You have something on your mind?”

“You know the language.”

Derrick sighed. “So? A lot of people know Pashto. What's your point?”

“That's not the only language you've mastered. You know my point. There are other tells, too.”

“My sports car with the machine guns in the tailpipes?”

Did that sleek car Derrick drove have...? Damn the man. He sounded completely sincere as usual. “You're always playing your radio at work, and screw it, but you look like the kind of guy who would fit right in.”

“You know for a guy who's so good at hacking, I don't see much result, surfer boy,” Derrick said.

“Go ahead and try to change the subject by taking potshots at my ego.” Austin smiled when Derrick gave him one of his intense looks. But Austin was sure he liked to keep him off balance. It annoyed Derrick that his attempts never seemed to affect Austin. Surfing was all about balance, and Austin paid his dues and then some.

“Why don't you tell me about the marines, especially about that embassy takeover? Weren't you the hero of the day? Saved the ambassador's very pretty wife after three days barricaded with her and fighting for your lives. Didn't they pin a medal on your chest for that?”

“Shut up, Gunn,” Austin growled. Damn him. He'd been rummaging around in Austin's record. Maybe he wasn't the only primo hacker here. “How do you know that?”

“You talk in your sleep, Beck.”

Austin's phone rang and he answered. “Beck.”

“Hey, this is Amber. I've been going through Lieutenant Kaczewski's file and I found a commendation he received for helping out an Afghani man sort out a case of mistaken identity.”

“Okay, how is that relevant?”

“He lives in a village about ten miles from Bagram. Safid Darreh. His name is Raffi Jamal.”

Austin sat up straighter. “Hey, Gunn, Kaczewski saved some villager by the name of Jamal. He lives about ten klicks from here. Safid Darreh.”

“First name?”

“Raffi.”

If Austin didn't know Derrick as well as he did, he might have missed the imperceptible tightening of his fellow agent's mouth and the narrowing of his eyes. “Let's check it out.” He sounded apprehensive, which was another red flag in Austin's book. Derrick never sounded anxious.

Safid Darreh,
Parwan Province, Afghanistan

Dexter braced himself against the wall, watching as the guy led with the barrel of an M9. As soon as it sufficiently cleared the doorway and was no longer a threat to his body, Dex grabbed it and swung the guy inside. His mind was on subduing this bad guy tango, but he'd compartmentalized the fact that Piper might already be dead.

The tango fought and Dex pushed him against the wall, shoving his arm into the air. A suppressed shot went harmlessly into the ceiling.

The guy struggled, but Dex countered his moves and knocked the weapon out of his grasp, already prepared to use both hands to capture his attacker's hand as he stabbed toward Dex's abdomen with a knife. Deflecting the blade away from his body, he jerked the guy forward and shoved his body into the tango's back, twisting his arm until he heard it snap. The man cried out in agony, then Dex stripped the blade out of his hand and dragged the man's back against his chest, setting the knife against his throat.

Just then Raoul Markam dragged Piper into the doorway across from where Dex restrained the man he'd just fought and now held prisoner with the knife at his throat.

“Kaczewski,” Markam said, his voice low and menacing. “Drop the knife and let him go or I'll put a bullet in her head.”

“You're going to kill her, anyway, Markam. Believe me, if she dies, I'm going to take you apart and make sure that you die very slowly.”

Markam did exactly what Dex hoped he would. Dex watched Markam's eyes and he knew the millisecond he was going to pull the trigger. Dex dropped and with a flick of his wrist released the knife.

The bullet went into the tango's heart, but Dex wasn't watching him as he fell dead in front of him. Markam's head jerked back and he stumbled against the wall, the knife protruding from his eye. He took her with him and, as he slid down the wall, he knocked Piper to her knees. She scrambled away and Dex rushed over.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.” She pushed his arm down and snatched up the gun on the floor at her feet and brought it up, the barrel right along his ear. The gun discharged twice and Dex spun to find another man crumpling to the floor.

Piper sat there for a second, a shocked look on her face, her hand tightening around the weapon. “Not Dex. Not today, buddy,” she said fiercely. Then she closed her eyes, snarling through clenched teeth, “I am really getting sick of these guys.”