Romancing the Alpha: An Action-Adventure Romance Boxed Set (97 page)

Kent licked his full lips. “Figured as much. Get off the bus.”

“I’m not leaving you behind. That’s not how we do things in Sweden—or Bhutan, for that matter.”

The idiot had the nerve to wink. “Attagirl. You tell the Dragon that I fully endorse you.”

“Stop talking like that.”

Kent shook his head. “We don’t have time for this, Elena. The mission. Always focus on the mission. Don’t get me wrong. I want to live, and I’ll try my damndest.”

“But—”

“Thanks for being my wife,” he said with a weak grin. “There’s a reason you’re here, and it’s not me. You can get into Bhutan alone. I can’t. It’s all on you.”

“No, Kent. I think—”

“I think I want to live, Elena, but I’m not running off this bus until you’re clear of it. Help a man out. Get off the fucking bus. Gimme a shot at least.”

So she turned and walked.

Cheers went up as she stepped off the vehicle, but they weren’t for her. Another car, a twenty-or-so-year-old Tata, ambled up the road. The bus passengers rushed it, carrying the winch along with them, hooking the bus to the back of the tiny car. It was a long shot and a hell of a gamble. But as the car pulled and a dozen people behind it pushed, the bus roared to life and the wheels screeched, digging for purchase on the gravel.

Rain plastered hair to her face. Her clothes were soaked through. She shivered, but from effort, not the cold. Through grunts and cries and shouts, arms of every shade pushed the little car. The smell of burning flesh singed her nose. She turned around. Men—brave men—with hands barely protected with strips of fabric, pulled on the winch itself.

The bus groaned, and so did the crowd, but cheers soon split the air as the back wheel
thunked
back onto the road. Strangers, minutes earlier at each others’ throats, locked their arms around each other in jubilant embraces to the sounds of a cheerfully honked car horn.

Kent and the driver stepped off the bus and were immediately thrust onto the dancing shoulders of the passengers. Those who had cellphones were on them. The family in the sedan cranked up the radio and there —in the middle of a rain-sogged death road —Elena danced for the first time in years.

Kent eased off the men’s shoulders and made a beeline for Elena. Her arms kicked back and forth like a sprinkler as her wrists twirled in time. She stopped when their eyes locked and gave him two thumbs up.

He leaned over, all the while being patted on the back. “A thumbs up? I think I did pretty good.”

“For an engineer,” she added drolly.

“I’m assuming you didn’t add in the computer part.”

Elena’s deep laughter blocked out things, including good sense.

“If I kiss you and blame it on the adrenaline rush, will you shoot me?” he whispered.

Before she could answer, horns blared. Their impromptu party was rudely being infringed upon by upcoming cars.

The laughing driver waved his passengers back to the bus, and the family who had saved them all piled into their Tata and drove away.

So, no, he didn’t get his kiss. But as they got back onto the bus, Elena’s hand snaked through his, and she brought his knuckles to her lips for a light peck. “Sorry. This will have to do for now.”

“Elena, if you knew the power of your lips, you wouldn’t sell yourself so short. I get it. It takes a lot to impress a woman like you.”

“Saving a couple dozen lives on the first day is a good start. Oh, what the hell.” Elena’s chin tilted up, and he dove into her, tasting her hard-won lips.

Cheering riders leaned out the windows, beating on the side of the bus, and women of all ages giggled when they finally got on. Everyone bought their story of being newly married, hook, line, and amusing sinker. The man in front of Kent handed over a folded newspaper in the thin space between the seat and the window. Kent unfurled it, finding a small offering of rupees inside. It wasn’t much, twelve dollars perhaps, but judging from the man’s torn and ragged clothes, it was money he’d worked hard to earn.

Kent nodded, not daring to embarrass the gentleman or his gift by not taking it. Instead, he waited until the man turned around and slid a hundred dollar greenback into his satchel against the window. This didn’t go unnoticed. When Kent turned again, he caught the gaze of a leather-faced Hindu priest in orange robes. Kent whipped around to stare out the window, but the robed man eased his way back toward them anyway.

The priest’s hair was long and matted, his beard, thick and unkempt. His voice was creaky, like an old door, but as he spoke, the bus fell quiet.

“He’s a
pandit
.” Elena cleared her throat and steepled the palms of her hands together. “He wishes to bless our trip and, um, our union. That we will have many sons.”

“I’ve got some money in my—”

“Shh.” She pushed Kent’s hand away. “It’s not like that.”

Bus passengers scooted to the edges of their seats, and women dabbed at moistened eyes. Whatever this was, it didn’t take long. The man said a few more words and moved his hands around a bit.

“What’s he saying now?”

“I told him earlier that we were married in America. He says, now we’re a proper couple here.”

Kent almost made a joke. Something about consummating the marriage or getting
real
proper tonight in the bed, but the moment was too sacred and not his to ruin.

Kent laid a chaste peck on Elena’s temple, wrapped his arm around her, and settled into his seat as the bus thundered along the wet mountain roads.

*****

T
hey arrived around ten that night, exhausted, shivering, but not miserable. They’d all come close to losing everything, and it seemed to have left a mark. For all the coarse words earlier, a peace had long settled over the crowd.

Elena’s head bobbed on his shoulder. He pulled her ponytail and nudged her forearm. “We’re in Jaigaon. Wake up.”

“I am.” She croaked out a yawn and wiped fog away from the window with her sleeve.

Kent leafed through his passport when the bus lights flipped on, and Elena swore in his ear. “What? Something wrong with my documents?”

“Nope. They’re perfect,” she whispered back, fingering the edges of a cream-colored sheet. “Way too perfect. You shouldn’t have this one yet. Not until after reaching Thimphu. Look, first, there’s the general entry visa.”

“Yeah, got that.”

“Right, but that only allows you in at this border town. Then there’s the paperwork that allows you into the capital. I have that for you in my bag, along with our marriage certificate. Next, there’s the one from Thimphu that lets you go everywhere. You have it, and you’re not supposed to. Not yet.”

“We can’t risk ripping it out.”

“Agreed.” Elena kept her hand around his arm until they got off the bus. “See that big gate? It’s the entryway into Bhutan. Tomorrow morning, it’ll be filled with Indian nationals. We’ll get in the middle of them and hope for the best.

“I’ve got a better idea.” He dragged her with him toward the German travelers. “We stay where they stay. We leave when they leave. When the time comes to cross the border—”

“They’ll be the ones getting hassled. That was my plan all along.”

Kent knuckled away non-existent tears. “We’re so cute. Finishing each other’s sentences.”

“Oh, stop.”

The group moved to a modern-looking hotel within eyeshot of the gate. Kent and Elena hung back, letting the Germans pay first and only then asking to be put in a room close to theirs.

Upstairs, she dropped her bag on the queen-sized bed that occupied most of the space in the beige, dimly lit room. It was utilitarian, but that’s all that it needed to be. Previous guests had likely been just like them, waiting for the first crack of the sun’s rays to cross the border into Bhutan.

Elena rummaged through her bag, coming up with a small black object and waving it around the room.

Well, shit.

Her hand dipped at his laughter, and he waved his own recording device detector. “You got the drop on me, again. Everything good?”

“We’re clear.” She put away the tool. “Be faster next time.”

That’s one for the records books
and something no woman had ever said to him before.

Elena kept fumbling in her bag, pulling out fabrics of every color and walking them over to the small closet for hanging. She might not know his purpose on the mission, but clearly, hers was to keep him on his toes.

“You want to get in the shower first?” she called.

“No, go ahead.” Kent turned on the television to give her a little privacy and did another walk around the room. Elena’s bag was open and still on the bed. He didn’t look inside. Much.

On top was a black case.
Poisons? Some innovative surveillance device?

Attached along the bottom was a long cylinder, also black and giving off vibes just as lethal as the woman herself. He reached for it but drew back at the memory of her face when she’d danced on the street.
Later
. It probably wasn’t a big deal anyway. That’s what being a knight did: kept you paranoid for no damned reason.

Rather than piss off his wife-not-wife, Kent fumbled through the brochures on the side table, coming up with a splotchy room service menu. Unsure of her palette, he ordered a little of everything before toeing off his shoes. He smelled Elena before he saw her. “Honey and lemons.”

“You’re about to smell like it too, buttercup,” she laughed. “I question their toiletry supplier.”

Elena plopped down beside him, coating him with the scent. He didn’t hate it. Not on her. She’d kept her hair mostly dry and piled atop her head—all except for the overly long bangs that swept over her eye. He twitched, wanting to brush them back and see her as she truly was and not a woman in a constant state of hiding. If he knew her better, he’d tell her all that. Only one solution then. “Elena?”

She froze, arm half covered in lotion. “Yeah?”

“We’re going to be friends.”

“Okay.”

“Good friends.”

“Are we going out for ice cream?”

“I’m serious.”

Elena bit her lip and rolled her eyes, but her jaw didn’t clench, and she hadn’t turned away. She didn’t know it, but she needed him. Her look asked what she was too afraid to voice. What kind of man was he, if he didn’t step up to the
slightly
unrequested plate?

New mission: get this woman to understand her worth. “Best friends.”

“That’s cute, but I need this job, Kent. I can’t screw it up.”

“And I’m going to make sure you accomplish it in record time and with flying colors. Then you’ll be kinda obligated to go out to dinner with me.”

“I thought you said we were going to be friends.” She dragged out that last word with a grin and crossed arms. Was that meant to make her look tough?

He had no doubt she could kill him via any number of inventive methods, but crossing her arms to lift her breasts heavenward was having a result of another sort. He was tired, cold, wet, and the blood in his brain was on the march southward. “You finished in the bathroom?” He took off his shirt.

“Uh, yeah...sure”

“You don’t have to turn away. We’re both adults here.” He tossed his shirt onto the bed before working his belt buckle. “I’m allowed to take a shower too.”

“Are you trying to scare me off?” she asked through lips that had gone flat and unreadable.

“I thought it’d make you happy.”

“Oh, god.”

“Close. I’ve been called an Adonis, heaven’s gift to women and—”

“An annoying prat? No? That hasn’t come up yet? Ritchie Rich? Prince William?”

“What did you just call me?”

Elena doubled over with deep, rich laughter as Kent lunged across the bed, half-naked, toward the scuzzy mirror on the other wall. He fluffed his hair and twisted from side to side, dragging his palms up to check his hairline. After her giggles died down, he stepped back and let out a
whoosh
of air. “That wasn’t funny, Elena. I try to make you happy with my best talents—”

She leaned over and patted her guns. Not the desired response. “These make me happy.”

“That’s—”

“Admirable?”

“Creepy.” He winked. “As you are rude and unappreciative, I’m going to go cry in the shower. When I’m back—”

“It never once flittered through your pretty-boy mind that I’m not interested in you or that this verges on sexual harassment?”

No. Not until just now. He’d called this flirting, heavy yes, but nothing more.

Shit.

He’d shoot himself before making a woman feel uneasy. Kent’s gut twisted, and he swallowed back the stinging taste of shame, all the while covering his chest with crossed arms. “No. I thought...Elena, my god, I’m sorry. It’s just after what happened on the bus—”

“You assumed we were closer than we actually are.”

He did.
But instead of saying that, he apologized, again and again and again, only stopping when he finally looked up to see her grinning. “You’re not mad?”

“You know the difference between you and other men?”

Sure he did. His looks, his money, his power, and his brain, but he left it at a shrug to be safe. “No.”

“Other men wouldn’t have looked so damned repentant. Don’t get me wrong. You need to be humbled and taken down a peg or two, but you’re all right. Just don’t get so hung up on your looks.”

“Too late.”

Elena clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Life happens. Looks come and go. My sister has three adorable boys. Each one added another fifteen pounds to her figure. Do you think she’d trade them in or that her husband loves her any less?”

“Not if he’s a real man.”

“He is. There’s not a better husband or father on this planet. And my mother, she lost all her hair in chemo. Twice. Yet I’ve never seen a more beautiful or stronger woman in my life.”

Kent put back on his under shirt and sat on the end of the bed, careful to give her space. “I have this friend. She’s smart, a little mean, but in a warrior’s way, you know.”

“One of the knights?”

He cracked his wrist and bypassed the question. “She’s tough and doesn’t fall for any of my talents.”

“Are you sure she’s into guys?”