Code Name: Ghost (A Warrior's Challenge 1) (17 page)

“Have you had anything to eat yet
tonight?”

“No. I’ll see you in the morning, sir,” She
turned.

“Stop calling me sir,” he growled. She was
his subordinate, and…Jesus Christ, she confused him. “What the hell
do you want me to do? You walked out of your room this afternoon
looking like a man’s absolute fantasy. You dumbfounded everyone,
but me most of all.” He knew it came out like he was giving her
hell, and he was, but she was driving him out of his fucking
mind.

Her head shot up. Tears glistened so bright
in her dark eyes they twinkled. She backed away from him as if she
were scared of him. “What time should we be at the hanger?” she
asked, her voice steady as ever.

Maybe she thought he couldn’t see her tears
in the darkness, and maybe he’d let her keep thinking that. A
crushing weight pushed down on his chest. “I’m going back to the
hotel. Why don’t we grab a cab?” he suggested, trying to bring
himself back in line. He wasn’t staggering drunk, but being with
her in this condition was dangerous.

“I guess so,” she agreed quietly.

When they reached their rooms, and slid the
cards into their respective locks he had never, ever in his life,
had to use as much ball-busting willpower as he did in that second.
All he had to do was get into his bloody room and lock the door.
That was it.

“Good night, Commander.”

She looked so beautiful in that little
halter top with the native designs and small beaded work running
along the seams, accentuating her breasts, mounded within the tawny
animal skin. He knew he was going to dream about her the entire
night, and it wouldn’t be the first time.

He only wanted to see one person walk out of
the darkness tonight, and when she did, he’d lost it. “Good night,”
he said briskly, and slammed the door behind him. He rested his
head against it, trying to calm the blood boiling inside him.

Air gusted from his lungs, breaking the
silence. He walked to the other door joining their rooms. Laying
his palm on it, he wondered if like fire, he could feel her heat
through it. Unbuttoning his shirt, he yanked the hem from his
pants. His shaft, swollen beneath the jeans he wore, needed
release, and he opened the button and peeled the zipper, the
waistband flopping over. “God help me, ” he muttered, shaking his
head and closing his eyes as the minutes ticked by. A small tap on
the door sent his heart into his throat.

“Commander, are you there? ”

“What's wrong, Kayla? ”

“Um, my alarm clock doesn’t work. I called
down to the front desk, but they don’t have a spare. I put in a
wake-up call, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind hammering on
my door too. ”

His fingertips tingled reaching for the
lock. A man’s guilty pleasure is his weakest link, the place where
his mental armor is the thinnest and most vulnerable. He twisted
the lock, and gave the door the tiniest pull. Standing in front of
him, wearing a red satin negligee, clinging to every curve, he came
face to face with his Achilles heel. Her beauty, her body, the
essence of Kayla slammed into him like a rogue wave, and he knew he
would never be the same man again.

* * * *

After thirty-six years of living, she never
expected to be struck by lightning. Her mouth gaped as the door
did. The Commander stood with his shirt unbuttoned, the heat in his
eyes melting her into a puddle. His chest rolled with taut muscles,
and his jeans sat low on his hips with the arch between his thumb
and forefinger locked tight against his smooth flesh. The lean
sinew threading his hips fired an overwhelming urge to follow it
with her tongue. A ripple rolled through his abs, and she didn’t
miss what poked its head from his pants, thick, hard, and
needy.

“Kayla—” His jaw strained to a hard angle.
“You have to close this door—now,” he breathed. His chest muscles
flexed as if he were using every ounce of his will to restrain
himself.

Closing the door without touching him would
be harder than jumping out of a plane. Her arms slowly crossed and
she gathered her negligee in her fingers, pulling it over her head
and dropping it into a pool on the floor.

The Commander drew his breath through his
teeth with a hiss, and his shaft jumped, thrusting from his pants.
Gliding her hand down her skin, she imagined what his hands would
feel like. Like a wild creature in heat, her moist cream began to
wash down her thighs in little rivers. Thane’s gaze locked on her,
sliding across her body, then his lids closed as if he were in
pain.

A sharp little breath escaped her own lips
when her fingers caressed her fold, covering them with silk. She
reached out and slowly slid them across the slit on the head of his
shaft, mixing it with the bulb of shiny moisture on the end.

His head whipped back and he groaned. “Oh,
fuck, is that what you feel like?”

A burning look of heat shot through her, and
his body jerked as if he was going to launch himself at her.

Loud voices cascaded down the hallway,
announcing the team. She heard the lock on his door click open,
accepting the Lieutenant’s card. She clutched the doorknob between
their rooms, and snapped it shut, cutting them off from each other.
Her heart banged so hard in her chest she saw stars. Taking a
couple staggering steps backwards, the back of her knees touched
the bed, and she collapsed on it.

What the hell had she done?
Her gaze
glued itself to the door, his image clear as if he were still
standing there. The low rumble of voices ghosted through the wall,
assuring her he was on the other side.
Control yourself!
The
power and passion she’d seen in his eyes stampeded through her
blood like a wild, thrashing animal destroying all the walls she’d
erected to protect herself. She wanted him. Oh, God, she really
wanted him.

She swiped her negligee from the floor,
slipping it over her body and stepped to the door, her hand curled
to knock on it.

“Morning, Snow White,” Tony said, seeing her
first.

“Morning, guys,” she greeted with a halfway
chipper tone.

Mace stood up and pulled a chair from the
next table, sliding it between him and Nathan. “Morning, Kayla,” he
said, watching her carefully.

He’d politely thrown the brunette he’d met
at the party out of his room after a romp in the sack last night.
It had only left him four hours sleep, but he had enough adrenaline
doing a zip trek through his veins to get him through the day,
especially after talking with the Commander.

He’d just sat down for breakfast when the
Commander came in shortly after. “Morning, sir.”

The Commander pored himself a coffee, took
one sip and set his cup down, leaning across the table, he said,
“If you fuck up today, and she gets hurt, even a bruise—your life
with me will be a living hell, do you understand me, Mace?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, taking a bite out of
his bottom lip. He’d seen him heated, angry, explosive, but he’d
never seen deadly like he was seeing now. “Sir?”

“What?” he growled, taking a breath and
sitting back in his chair, bringing his cup with him.

“You like her, a lot—don’t you, sir?”

“No, I don’t like her,” he snapped. “She’s
my subordinate, my responsibility, and I’d have the entire base
down my throat if something happened to her, never mind Red tearing
a piece outta my ass.”

He nodded. “Soooo, how exactly do you
explain kissing her last night like she was the love of your life
if you don’t like her, sir?” At the same time, he wondered where he
could find some soap because he was going to be washing down the
Black Hawks this afternoon for sure.

The Commander gave him a “don’t push it”
look.

“Sir, you said she was goddamned beautiful,
but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

The cup the Commander held came down with
shattering
clank
. “I am only concerned about her welfare.
She will be relying on you to see her safely to the ground. Keep
alert, take precautions, extra ones if necessary.”

He cleared his throat and refilled his cup.
“Sir, you do realize she likes you, too?”

“For the love of God, Mace,” he rubbed his
temple and let out a huge sigh. “Drop it.”

“Although I know I’m taking my life and
serving it up on a
to be annihilated platter
, I don’t think
you should ignore your feelings.”

The Commander’s steely gaze bit into him
like a bear trap. “I have my reasons, Petty Officer Callahan. If
you haven’t noticed, our profession doesn’t bode well for survival
or family.”

Mace took a long sip of his coffee. “Maybe
not, sir, but a minute of love is better than going into the ground
never feeling it.” The expression on the Commander’s face almost
had him keeling over. Had he actually gotten through to this
hard-assed man? It sure looked like he had, because the Commander’s
expression had morphed into confusion, if not doubt, and the
infamous Ghost never doubted himself.

The waitress sat their plates on the table.
“Anything else I can get you?” she asked, turning her gaze to the
Commander.

He didn’t even look at the beautiful woman
when he gave his head one jerk to the negative. When the Commander
followed Kayla last night, Mace had wondered whether something
would happen between them, but his foul mood this morning told him
the Commander was at war with himself, which meant that something
almost
happened.

Kayla brought him out of his thoughts when
she patted him on the shoulder as she sat down. “Thanks, Mace.”

“Ho, someone’s looking a little hung over,”
Fox said laughing, and picked up a pitcher off the table, filling
her cup with coffee. “You’re gonna have the wind beneath your wings
today, and more firewater in your veins tonight, little lady, so
get some of this into you.”

The guys laughed at her when her head shot
up at that comment. “What?” she crowed.

“Kayla, if you’re not Pocahontas’ daughter,
I’ll eat a rattlesnake.”

Mace leaned into her. “Don’t bite on that
one, he always eats snake. He’s a freak.”

She almost spewed her coffee. “Yuck, Fox,
really?”

“What?” He lifted his hands in the air
innocently. “It tastes like chicken.”

“Aw, God.” Kayla groaned, flattening a hand
against her stomach.

“Ma’am, would you like some breakfast?” the
waitress asked, appearing beside her.

The look on her face made the whole table
bust a gut.

* * * *

Mace, Fox, and Tony spent the morning with
her in non-stop training. They went over all the equipment three
times, emergency maneuvers five times, and explained the type of
chute known as a ram-air parachute they used for demonstrations.
There was no playtime, and she sensed Mace was on edge. He
explained the forward throw as they’d exit the plane, the landing
roll, and made sure she understood that their landing would be like
jumping from a height of eight feet. They covered terminal velocity
and the freefall would be significant. Then he made her practice
the landing roll using a four-foot platform until she did it
perfectly.

“Mace.” She laid a hand on him when they
took a fifteen minute break to get out of the blistering sun. “Are
you okay?”

“Sure, Kayla, I just want to make sure
there’s no screw-ups.”

Her brow wrinkled. “If you don’t want to
take me, just say so. It’s all right.” She followed his eyes as
they darted away from her.

He leaned back on his haunches. “No, I just
want to be sure, that’s all.”

“You must have done this a hundred times. I
can tell something is wrong, Mace. What is it?”

“Kayla, we’re jumping from eight thousand
feet, things can go wrong. Chutes tangle. I’m just being cautious,
okay?”

She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the
cheek. “Thanks, Mace.” His head bowed immediately, and she could
swear he was blushing.

She scanned the airfield. The Black Hawks
had just taken off with other members of Team One. They were about
to start the Fast Rope demonstration. The SEALs didn’t have the
luxury of floating lazily to the ground. Years ago, a new technique
had been invented—it was dangerous, but efficient when deploying
from a helicopter. It meant sliding down a rope with no added
safety measures—just the man, his equipment, and clutching the line
with the pull of gravity until his boots hit the sand.

As her team geared up, she realized she had
it easy, basically—she would be Mace’s gear. The team belted on
their equipment, and the list was endless.

Her heart beat hard in her chest, but it
began to flutter when she recognized the confident stride of
Commander Austen as he crossed the tarmac toward them. He was
suited up in full combat fatigues, helmet, shades, and his chute
hung over his shoulder. Kayla swallowed hard, and although she
couldn’t see his eyes, she knew he was looking at her. Mace lured
her attention as he helped her into the harness she would attach to
him before the dive.

When Mace looked up the Commander stood over
them. He gave him a thumbs-up, and the Commander nodded.

The drone on the engines of the special ops
aircraft couldn’t drown out the
whirr
of her heart.

“Ready to fly, Frogs?” Fox said in the
headset hidden inside her helmet.

The “rogers” echoed in her set.

“Come on, Kayla, let’s put some wind beneath
those virgin wings of yours,” Fox bellowed.

Although her legs filled with cement, she
forced herself to turn and head toward the aft of the C-130.

“You’re going to do fine, Kayla,” Mace said,
resting a hand on her shoulder as they walked up the ramp.

Lieutenant Cobbs barked out orders to the
team, going over the demonstration one more time as the back door
closed and the engines on the plane changed pitch, the aircraft
beginning to move. Commander Austen sat on the jump seat across
from her. Leaned over with his hands clasped, he concentrated on
the metal deck. He hadn’t said a word to her, but what did she
expect? More than likely the second they got back, she would be
fired. Good sense had come to her a second before allowing herself
to knock on his door last night. No good would ever come from them
writhing in a sensual joining. In fact, it would ruin everything.
She’d held position against the heavy current of need to be in his
arms, paddling hard to stop her desires that wanted to suck her
into a dangerous reef.