Lethal Pursuit (5 page)

Meeting Jackson’s annoyed gaze, Maya again tightened around his captive flesh, wanting to push him beyond the end of his control. More than anything she wanted to see him let go, surrender to the need she sensed burning in him. He felt so good inside her. Too good. It made her yearn to give in to sensation, find out if he could make her climax. Instead she ignored the urge and circled her hips. “Gonna come for me?” she whispered, her voice a wisp of sound in the stillness.

The look in his eyes changed instantly. The glittering hunger retreated behind a wall of cold determination. Before she could even guess what that meant, he flipped them and she suddenly found herself beneath that powerful body, at his mercy instead.

* * *

Breathing hard, muscles bunched in an agony of need, Jackson stared down into the shocked depths of Maya’s eyes. Even in the dimness he clearly saw the flicker of unease as she realized she was no longer in control. In those first few seconds he watched the knowledge sink in that he was stronger and could force a response out of her if he chose. The primal part of him wanted to. She was as turned on as him; he could feel it in the slickness between her thighs and hear it in the little gasps of pleasure she tried to hold back. What the hell was this? A sexual power trip? Because he didn’t appreciate being on the receiving end of it. And he hated it more that he couldn’t stop his physical reaction to her.

As much as he fought the pounding hunger, his body wouldn’t allow him to stop. Not now. He was too close, too on edge and he’d wanted Maya for months. He’d be a goddamn idiot to pull out now, and he knew she’d disappear once he did.

That didn’t mean he was ready to go down without a fight first. If she was hell-bent on unraveling him completely, then he was taking her there with him.

Her hands were flattened on his shoulders as though to push him away. The wary edge in her expression ate at him. The aroused glitter in her eyes was now locked behind a blank wall. If she hadn’t been so wet, if penetrating her sultry flesh hadn’t been so easy and he hadn’t caught those telltale sounds of pleasure earlier, he’d have been convinced she wasn’t even turned on. He shifted his weight and she sucked in a breath, her body going rigid as though she was about to fight him. As if she was afraid of feeling the pleasure. Screw that.

Uh-uh
,
sweetheart.
You wanted this
,
you’re getting it.
Every last fucking inch of me.
Until she cried out his name and came around his cock, whether Cam got an earful outside or not.

Braced on his forearms, watching her eyes, he pulled back slightly then pushed forward. Her gasp of startled pleasure was the sweetest music to his ears. But before he could do it again, she’d wrapped those toned legs around his waist and clamped her hands on to his back, holding tight as she swiveled her hips in a slow circle calibrated to make him lose his freaking mind.

Jackson bowed his head and fought to breathe. Christ, she fought dirty. And she was fucking strong for her size. He started to pull back; she followed, gripping him even tighter. Jackson bit back a curse. No matter how he tried to twist away, she wouldn’t let go. There was no way he could dislodge her without truly hurting her and he’d rather die first. He stilled, breathing roughly, so frustrated he wanted to scream.

Why?
Why was she doing this? He shook his head once, a tight movement of denial, of defiance. She stared up at him, just as implacable. A low growl of warning rumbled up from his chest. He was a heartbeat away from losing it and pounding into her until he exploded. And then she’d not only have won whatever fucked-up contest this was, he’d have lost his only chance with her. Because he knew in his gut that once this was over, she’d walk away for good.

He wasn’t letting that happen.

As though his futile efforts at resistance amused her, Maya laughed softly against his ear and nipped the lobe, sending sparks of sensation tearing across his skin. “Just let go,” she whispered, a seductive, beguiling caress over his pleasure-drenched senses. Her scent enveloped him, tangerine and vanilla and warm, aroused woman. She drew him closer, her wicked tongue playing at his ear while those erotic hip circles shredded what was left of his control.

“Wait—”

“Uh-uh,” she breathed, and swiveled her hips once more in a devastating arc.

Fuck.
Fuck.
It was too good. He couldn’t stop it.

With a muffled curse, Jackson fisted one hand in her hair and drove deep. He barely heard her quiet gasp as he plunged into her body, the pleasure spiraling out of control. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, lost in the heady fragrance of her scent, he clenched his jaw to keep from shouting out as his orgasm slammed into him. Wave after wave coursed through him until it felt like he was being wrung inside out.

He shuddered against her, every muscle locked and straining until the pleasure finally began to ebb. Sucking in precious oxygen, Jackson couldn’t hold back the low groan that escaped as he let his weight settle atop her and kept his face against the perfumed skin of her neck.

Maya surprised him by making a quiet humming sound and then kissing the side of his jaw, her hands smoothing gently across his slick shoulders as though she savored the closeness. And goddammit, but that unexpected show of tenderness from her almost undid him. Lying naked and tangled in the cradle of her arms was so much sweeter than the release she’d just given him because he knew she rarely showed this tender side of her. He cuddled even closer, until his body touched every inch of her skin it could, and nuzzled the soft skin just below her ear. His only satisfaction was the goose bumps that broke out beneath his lips.

She stiffened, her fingers stilling on his back for an instant. Then she sighed and relaxed once more, running her hands up his shoulders and neck to thread into his hair. Her fingers stroked through it gently, and it seemed like she was enjoying petting him. Jackson all but purred his satisfaction.

Her quiet chuckle gusted against his temple. “
Dios
, and on top of everything else you’re a cuddler too?”

He didn’t know what to make of the wonder in her tone so he nodded. “You’re not?” She felt pretty damn cuddly to him right now. He never wanted to move again. Why hadn’t she let him please her?

“No. But you do tempt a girl.” There was a wistful note in her voice.

Dammit, why? Why would she deliberately deny herself the pleasure and affection he was more than willing to give her? Couldn’t she tell he was dying to? It didn’t make any sense. Frowning, he lifted his head and met her eyes. “So? What about you?” For emphasis, he rocked gently against her where they were still joined. She’d been right there with him before he’d rolled her beneath him. Had the position freaked her out? She had to want to come. Hell,
he
wanted to make her come. Needed to.

She put a hand on his shoulder to push him up. “I’ll take a rain check.”

What the fuck? She was seriously going to walk away from the orgasm he was freely offering? The rain check comment was bullshit. They both knew the moment she walked out of this tent she’d be gone forever. “Hey, what—”

“I gotta go.” She pushed at him again, avoiding his gaze and making his gut sink. “Cam’s outside.”

“Cam can wait,” he said tightly.

She pushed harder, her jaw set. “Let me up.”

Everything in him warned not to let her go.

Though moving was the last thing he wanted to do, he reluctantly eased off her and withdrew, immediately missing the warmth of her body. She climbed out of bed without another word and gathered her clothes.

Staring at the gorgeous silhouette of her body, Jackson tried to think of what to say or do but came up blank. He had no fucking idea what was going on in her head. He was sure he’d seen the heated arousal in her eyes, heard it in those breathless little gasps when he’d had her nipple in his mouth and flipped her beneath him to drive into her. She’d been hell-bent on holding back. Had someone hurt her in the past? Abused her, maybe? The idea filled him with anguish. His gut said pushing her right now would only distance her further, when he wanted the exact opposite.

Biting back more protests that he already knew would be futile, he flopped down on to his back and drew the covers over himself as she dressed. It was hard to not say anything. The tense silence was like sandpaper on his skin. He caught only flashes of that smooth golden-toned skin as she hurriedly dressed and laced her boots. Lying alone in the rumpled blankets with the evidence of her unfulfilled arousal drying on the condom and his inner thighs, he felt cold. He felt...used.

She didn’t look at him until she was securing her hair into a bun at the back of her neck. Her closed expression gave him no clue as to what she was thinking or feeling. “See you.”

Pissed off and at a loss about what to do about it, all he could say was, “Yeah.”

Without another word or even a backward glance, Maya strode to the tent flaps and stepped through with a calm, “Hey.”

A second later Cam stepped inside, rubbernecking Maya’s retreating figure. Jackson blew out a long breath, and his buddy turned around to gape at him with a stunned look on his face. “So, I didn’t see anything,” he blurted, hands raised in self-defense.

Jackson was too tired and annoyed to manage a laugh. “Nope.”

Cam crossed to his bunk and sat down, his boots landing with a thud as he tossed them onto the wooden floor. A moment later the covers rustled, and then all was still. “Night.” Jackson could hear the grin in the bastard’s voice.

“Night,” he grunted, and scrubbed a hand over his face. What the fuck had just happened? Why had Maya sought him out—and here in the so-called “secure” confines of the Spec Ops area—just to fuck him and get him off without getting anything out of it in return? Except power or control, or whatever the hell she’d been after. For the first time that he could remember, he was completely out of his depth with a woman. Wasn’t that a kick in the ass?

Though he’d just had the best orgasm of his life, he’d never felt less satisfied.

Chapter Five

Climbing down from the cab of the old Toyota pickup, Khalid took a cardboard box from the front seat and carried it to the rear of their camp. His men were gathered around a small fire, cooking their evening meal when he approached.

Mohammed glanced up, a wide smile breaking over his face when he saw what Khalid carried. “You have them?”

Khalid nodded and surveyed his troops. Mostly young men in their late teens and early twenties. There had been more in the fall, but the majority of the older ones had been sacrificed in the previous operation to eliminate Nasrallah. Those remaining were motivated, fair marksmen and, more importantly, completely loyal to him.

A cool wind picked up, ruffling his hair and making the flames crackle and leap within their stone pit. “I have received word from Rahim’s people that tomorrow’s operation is a definite go. Are you all ready?”

A chorus of excited voices answered him in the affirmative.

He held up a hand for silence. “We leave an hour before dawn, in the groups I’ve divided you into. Mohammed will lead the last group to ensure our escape route is clear.” Across the fire, the boy’s eyes shone with pride at being given command of his own group. “We have only one chance to execute this properly. You all know what is expected of you—what I expect from you as men and soldiers. Prepare yourselves accordingly with prayer.”

He paused to let his gaze carry over the circle of men, the rise of excitement warm in his veins. “And now for those of you who will accompany me into the village, something to help you on our journey to rid our land of the unbelievers.” He opened the box flap and reached inside for the item on top. Smiling, he held up the first of five camouflage-patterned jackets of the Afghan National Army for everyone to see.

* * *

Above the powerful pulse of the Black Hawk’s rotors, Jackson listened to Cam and his other fellow passengers bullshit over their headsets as the helo flared above their LZ and hovered a moment before touching down. The pilots shut down the engines, and everyone took off their headsets and collected their gear in preparation to disembark. Just as well, since he didn’t much feel like talking to anyone anyhow.

Shouldering his heavy ruck and a duffel he’d stuffed full of medical gear, he hopped out of the helo and headed across the empty expanse of dun-colored ground to where the SF guys had already set up shop at the village’s perimeter. Doing a MEDCAP with an A-team helped on several levels, especially since they were all linguists and could speak Pashto. A real bonus out here, where none of the villagers spoke any English and what Pashto Jackson knew wouldn’t fill a coffee cup. Two more H-60s landed behind the bird he’d just exited, remaining on the ground only long enough for their passengers to disembark before powering up and lifting off again.

As he neared the SF guys, he noticed Maya off to the right with some other Security Forces personnel, likely setting up last-minute security details for the upcoming press promo op for an unnamed senior U.S. official. Nothing better to show the voters back home how much the current party in power back stateside loved to help the Afghan locals. At least this setup saved him from an awkward episode with Maya. They both had jobs to do here, and there was no doubt in his mind Maya would let nothing come between her and her duty.

It still shocked the shit out of him that she’d sought him out last night. He’d never encountered a woman so sexually aggressive, let alone have one be so detached from her own pleasure during sex. It not only bothered him, it made him want a repeat so he could make sure this time ended differently for her. Things felt too unfinished between them.

Cam caught up with him, carrying his own load of gear. A group of villagers had already assembled near the SF troops. Mostly women and children waited, standing a short distance behind the village elders to await permission to come forward.

“You got enough stuff for the kids if I run out?” Cam asked.

“Should have. Let me know if you need it.”

The SF Team Sergeant directed them to the two small tents set up at the eastern end of the village. Maya was farther down, directing a few of her soldiers into place. Even if her rank hadn’t been displayed on her uniform, there was no doubt as to who was in charge there. The woman wore her authority like a Kevlar cloak.

“You know anything about her background?” he asked Cam, still watching her.

Cam followed his gaze and answered. “Some. Dev told me she didn’t get to know her real well at Bagram, but apparently she was raised by her grandmother in L.A. Tough neighborhood, lots of drugs, gangbangers. She must have learned to kick ass early on to make it out of there without getting sucked into that kind of lifestyle.”

“Makes sense.”

Cam shot him a sideways glance. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” It was just that he couldn’t fucking figure her out. He’d always prided himself on being able to understand a woman and how her mind worked. God knew his mother and sisters had tried their best to get him to understand them while they’d raised him. What happened with Maya last night had left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He wanted to be the one to make her let go of all that hard-won control, watch her melt in his arms when he got her underneath him next time. And there
would
be a next time. He’d make sure of that.

“She’s stumped you, huh?”

Cam knew him too well. He didn’t bother denying it. “I think maybe, yeah.”

“Well, that’s one for the history books. I can’t wait to tell Went.” His eyes sparkled at the prospect.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” And once Ryan heard about that, there’d be no end to the ribbing he’d take. The “woman whisperer” had finally met his match and lost? It’d be all over the Bagram Spec Ops compound by morning.

“I’d tell you to send her flowers, but she doesn’t seem the type,” Cam continued with a wry grin.

Jackson wasn’t so sure about that. Back in November, when he’d hand-delivered a bouquet of wildflowers on Ryan’s behalf so Maya could give them to Ace, she’d seemed stunned by the gesture. No, he was pretty sure that flowers and good old-fashioned courting might be exactly the way to go with her, even if she’d never admit to wanting it.

“Maybe a fancy knife or a tactical flashlight might be more her style,” Cam suggested with another grin.

Jackson’s lips curved at the irony in his friend’s tone. “I was thinking maybe I should write her a song.” Though he said it half-jokingly, part of him was serious.

Cam must have known it, because his eyebrows shot up. “Yeah? Wow, okay then. Damn, you’re pretty into her, huh?”

He nodded, since there was no harm in confiding in Cam. After last night, Jackson guessed Maya figured things were over between them. For him they weren’t. Not by a long shot. He knew he could find his way underneath all that attitude and bluster if he looked for the answer carefully enough. With her, patience was the key. Only he didn’t know how much patience he had left when it came to her.

“Which tent you want?” Cam asked as they approached the hastily set up medical area.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You take the far one, then. It’ll give you the nicest view.” His blue eyes danced with laughter.

Grinning, Jackson passed him and carried on to the far tent, closest to where Maya was positioned. She didn’t glance his way, but he knew she’d seen him. He ducked under the low tent flap and stepped inside. Someone had set up a small table and cot with a pillow and blankets on it. Setting his gear down, he got to work unpacking what he needed—BP kit, syringes, bandages and swabs, some OTC meds and a few mild narcotic analgesics. The analgesics were sort of ironic, since he was currently sitting in the middle of the opium poppy capital of the world. The villagers he was about to treat probably had enough opium to keep them high and pain-free for several lifetimes.

Just another fucked-up thing about this war.

One of the SF sergeants came into the tent, a short, stocky guy with a thick ginger beard. “You all set up?”

“Ready to rock.”

“Okay, the deal is for me to stay and help translate. If for any reason I need to step out, you’ll be on your own. You know any Pashto?”

“Pretty much nil.”

“I’ll stick around as long as I can then.” He left and returned a few minutes later with one of the village elders, a man in his seventies if Jackson had to guess, dressed in traditional garb of the flat-topped hat, loose shirt and pants with a vest. The soldier acted as translator as the elder thanked Jackson and they exchanged polite courtesies. After he exited the tent, Jackson’s first patient was brought in. A young girl around four, the same age as his youngest nephew back home in San Antonio. The girl’s mother wore a veil that covered everything but her eyes, and from the lack of wrinkles around them, Jackson guessed she had to still be in her late teens.

Staying silent, watching him and the SF soldier warily, she sat on the cot and placed her daughter in her lap. The girl clung to her, staring at Jackson with wide, dark eyes.

Jackson smiled and dropped to his haunches in front of the little girl. “Hey, sweetheart. You got a sore hand?” The cut running the length of the side of it looked sore and, from the discoloration, infected. He asked a few questions, which the other soldier translated for him. All he picked out was the word
Taliban
, and it was enough to make his lips thin in disgust. He put it all together even before the translation came.

“She says it happened a few weeks ago when some Taliban fighters came through. The little girl got too close to one of them, and the asshole slashed her with his knife.”

Tamping down his sudden surge of anger, Jackson held his hand out toward the child. “Can I see it?” It took a while for the girl to let him take a good look, and with the back and forth translation it was a few minutes longer before Jackson could actually start cleaning the wound. It was deep and definitely needed stitches. It surprised him the girl wasn’t running a fever, though the mother reported there had been one for a few days after the injury.

Irrigating the wound and cleaning it out didn’t go quite as smoothly, but once Jackson got the local freezing injected, the girl stopped squalling and watched in amazement as he sutured the gash closed and bandaged up her hand with a sterile dressing. After a shot of antibiotic just to be safe, the girl and her mother left.

He saw a dozen or so patients after that, some having walked miles from other nearby villages when they’d heard about the opportunity to get free medical care. Or maybe just to see the big, bad American soldiers up close. Winning hearts and minds from the locals wasn’t easy this late in the war, though he hoped to change some minds among the villagers today. He treated a barrage of minor cuts and scrapes, handed out vitamins and antihistamines, put an old man’s arm in a sling to take the strain off his damaged rotator cuff.

He was alone in the tent reorganizing his supplies when urgent, raised voices came from outside. Jackson glanced up at the sound of shuffling feet coming closer, and the SF soldier stuck his head in.

“Got a sick little guy here for you. He’s in pretty bad shape.”

Jackson stood, grabbing a fresh pair of gloves from his pocket. “Bring him in.”

An old man entered the tent, carrying a boy around seven or eight. The boy was listless and pale, lying in the man’s arms like a limp doll.

“Put him down,” Jackson instructed, helping settle the boy on the cot. His face was gray but for the bright red fever spots on his smooth cheeks. “How long has he been sick?”

The soldier translated. “Four days. He had severe stomach pain and he’s been vomiting a lot. Then this morning, when the family woke up, he was like this.”

Already putting the symptoms together, Jackson grabbed a tongue depressor and his scope. The boy stared up at him with dark, fever-glazed eyes. After a bit of coaxing, Jackson managed to get him to open his mouth. His tongue had a grayish tint and there was a film on it. Not good.

When he palpated the boy’s abdomen, it was rigid, but he didn’t flinch or give any indication that it hurt. Jackson was certain he already knew what the problem was. Finding the point halfway between the boy’s right hip bone and his belly button, he pressed his fingers deep, watching for any signs of pain. The boy shifted but remained quiet. Then, with a silent apology, Jackson yanked his hand away.

The boy blanched and came up off the cot with a shocked gasp, grimacing as a strangled sound of pain came from his throat. One hand automatically came up to shield the spot Jackson had just touched, and his breathing was fast and choppy.

All dead giveaways confirming what he’d feared.

Jackson tossed his stethoscope aside and strode for the flap. “Don’t let him move,” he said tersely to the SF sergeant.

Exiting the tent, he immediately looked for Maya and found her a hundred yards or so away, manning her post and supervising her airmen. “Lieutenant,” he called.

She glanced over and raised her brows in question.

“Got a situation here.”

She strode over fast, giving him a terse jerk of her stubborn chin when she neared. “What’s up?”

“I’ve got a young boy in there with a ruptured appendix. Peritonitis has already set in and he needs immediate surgery.”

Her alert gaze sharpened even more on his face, and there was no trace of awkwardness from what had passed between them last night. “What do you need?”

He freaking loved that she offered assistance without hesitation or questioning him. And he was grateful, because the kid needed them to act
now.
“I need an emergency medevac to get him to a base hospital ASAP, or he’s not going to make it.”

* * *

The moment he said it, Maya immediately got on her radio to request an emergency medevac. After giving her the nine line to pass on to the dispatcher, Jackson rushed back into the tent to tend his young patient. His word was good enough for her. If Jackson said it was urgent they get the boy to a hospital, then it was. End of story.

Once she got confirmation and the ETA for the helo from Bagram, Maya strode quickly over to Jackson’s tent. The SF sergeant at the entrance nodded to her and let her pass without a word. She stepped inside just in time to see Jackson handing a fluffy brown teddy bear to the sick little boy. The huge duffel in the corner had several other stuffed toys poking out of it along with the medical equipment he’d brought.