Dana Marton (10 page)

“V
ICTOR
S
ERGEYEVICH
is heading the rescue team,” the Colonel said. “He was the KGB agent who assassinated Piotr’s father. He’s with the Alpha troops now, the leader of their counterterrorism team.”

And Piotr probably knew that. He knew that if something as big as an embassy hostage crisis occurred, Victor would come. Piotr was here to draw and take out an old enemy.

“He has nerve gas,” Parker whispered into the phone. “I retrieved one capsule. He probably has one for every floor.” For all his faults, Piotr was a dependably efficient guy.

“Do you have gas masks?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ll pass that information along. I’ll tell them that our consul managed to get to a phone for a few seconds and contacted us with information. I’ve been holding back until now, not wanting to appear too suspicious. But at this stage we have enough to be of serious use. I’ll tell them about the location of the hostages and ask for time before they attack. I want you out of there before that happens.”

“We’re near the rear balcony that overlooks the utility buildings and the garage. We’ll be exiting through there most likely. I’d appreciate it if you could pass along a request to hold their fire if they see movement in that area. We’re stuck near the exit point. Should be able to move within a few hours at the latest. Do you think you can gain us a couple of hours, sir?”

The Colonel didn’t respond. Parker waited, pulled the phone from his ear to look at the display screen. Black. The battery was dead. They no longer had a way to communicate. The question was, how much had the Colonel heard of what he had said?

August 11, 15:06

Had he been on his own, he would have broken out and to hell with the consequences. He couldn’t believe they’d wasted ten hours hiding in a stupid pantry when the clock was ticking. A growing tide of frustration simmered dangerously close to the surface. Every minute that passed brought them closer to disaster. But the rebels outside the door would not leave. They seemed to be hung up on the TV and the food.

At least he’d finally caught a few winks. Kate had insisted, and he trusted her to stand guard. They seemed safe in the storage closet and he needed to be at one hundred percent capacity when they finally broke out of here.

He had no idea how many rebels there were out there at this time, but by the voices alone he figured still about half a dozen, always shifting as some came and others left. Several times he had come close to kicking the door out and charging forward with guns blazing. But Kate was right behind him, no place to get cover in the closet. The plastic crates and soda bottles wouldn’t stop any of the bullets the rebels sent his way. And he had no way of knowing if there might be one among them with a TNT belt who could set off his charge in the heat of the moment, taking out the whole room if not the whole floor.

What one considered “acceptable risk” sure had a way of getting reevaluated when you had the woman you cared about by your side.

“Parker?” She stood leaning against the opposite wall in the small space of the storage room, a foot or so away from him.

He already missed her body touching his. She had slept in his arms again. The memories of her sleeping in his arms on a regular basis seemed little more than a fantasy. A fantasy he would be only too glad to return to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick. “Back when—”

She stopped, and he leaned forward, waiting.

“I should have trusted you more,” she finished.

His heart fumbled a beat with surprise. “We barely knew each other. And living with me is no picnic. Hey, I know that. You drew whatever conclusions you could, based on the information you had available.”

Was she saying that maybe she regretted how things had gone down between the two of them?

“We still barely know each other,” she pointed out as she watched him with those big emerald eyes that often haunted his dreams.

“At least now you know what I am.” Maybe not the particulars, but she would have a fair idea of what he did for a living. And that probably wasn’t a plus. She had seen him kill without hesitation. Two years ago, she had thought him uncommitted to their relationship and undependable. Chances were good that now she thought him a monster.

But she wouldn’t sleep in a monster’s arms.
The thought gave him hope, more hope perhaps than he had the right to.

Her fingers fiddled with the bottom of her shirt. “You are so different from who I thought you were.”

There it came. He held her gaze in the dim light, feeling as if a grand jury was about to pass judgment over him. He could have come up with a dozen excuses why he was the way he was, some pretty good ones among them. He didn’t.

All he did was ask a single question. “Am I really?”

She closed her eyes for a second, drew a slow breath. “I suppose not that different,” she conceded with an ironic little smile when she looked at him again. “I knew you were tough. It’s just that you’re tougher than I thought. And I knew that you were wild—” She paused. “But you are wilder than I could have ever imagined. I knew that you could be dangerous if someone threatened you.”

He knew what she was thinking about. The small altercation down in Tampa when two lowlifes had tried to shove him out of the way to get to her purse. “I can be dangerous when
you
are threatened,” he agreed, seeing absolutely nothing wrong with admitting that.

Another, longer pause followed.

“Thank you,” she said. “For coming after me.”

The tension in his chest eased a little, relief turning up the corner of his lips. “You bet.” Then he added, “Next time you want to see me and reminisce, you can always just call.”

She took her turn to smile, but grew serious again after a moment. “Parker?” she whispered, quieter than ever.

He had to step even closer to hear her over the TV outside the door. “Yeah?”

They were about toe to toe.

She drew a deep breath that lifted her breasts, making his hands itch to touch them. “I missed you,” she said.

His smile widened, and he reached for her, drew her into his arms, inhaled her scent and sank into the feeling of having her body flush against his. Fear never had the ability to weaken his knees, but now he realized that there existed a profound relief that could do just that. “I missed you, too.”

They held each other, just processing those two short confessions, appreciating them.

“But I don’t think we can just pick up where we left off,” she said after several seconds.

Considering where they had left off, how angry they’d been, then no, definitely not. “We’ll figure this out as we go.”

Her lips nuzzled his neck, hesitant, as if she couldn’t decide whether to go with the moment or pull away.

Neither his mind nor his body was in any sort of confusion over
his
preferred course of action. He held her tightly.

“But how far could it ever go? Until you disappeared again?” She pulled back enough so she could look him in the eyes.

“I have to disappear now and then. You understand what that’s about now. But I’d always come back to you. Promise.”

“Can you promise not to get hurt? That you’ll be careful?”

That he could not do, not even for her, not even if he wanted to. His wasn’t a careful type of occupation. “I can promise not to take unnecessary risks.”

She pressed against him tightly the next second, holding him fiercely, as if she never wanted to let him go, and it made his heart sing. He ran his fingers up her arms, then neck, lifted her chin and brushed his lips over hers.

He hadn’t meant to go much further than that. Okay, to be honest, he did hope to cop a feel or two. Holding her in his arms while she slept had riled his body. He tasted her bottom lip then the top one, tried hard not to think of what those lips could do to him. He was determined to remain in control.

Then she gave a little sigh that sent fire skittering across his skin. And he swept inside her mouth and forgot all about his good intentions. She was sweet and hot and she was his, dammit. And he kissed her with enough passion to make sure she knew that.

And the good thing about Kate, one of the many that he had always appreciated about her, was that she always gave as good as she got. And then some. He nearly lifted out of his shoes when she gently sucked the tip of his tongue.

His hands that had rested on her waist now crept under her white top and the silk blouse under that, reveling in the feel of her soft, warm skin, spanning her narrow waist. She had lost weight in the past two years, but still wasn’t what one would call skinny. Which titillated him on every level. He loved her curves, loved that lush, passionate body of hers. Could have sculpted it from memory.

Which, he thought thankfully, he had no need to rely on right now.

“Parker.” She sighed his name in a voice saturated with passion.

Having his hands on her and hers on him, her soft lips beneath his, that unique scent of her and that voice of seduction surrounded him like a spell. There was no room to escape the onslaught of sensations, and he didn’t want to. He wanted more of it, more of her. He let his palms slide over what they pined for and closed his fingers over her incredible breasts, resenting the thin fabric of her bra between him and her skin.

But then his thumb brushed against the front clasp and he smiled against her lips.

“Parker?” His name was whispered not on a voice of worry, but on a voice of need.

And he had need enough inside him to match hers, enough to drown in.

Her breasts were firm, the skin soft and smooth, her nipples hard against his palm. He groaned his satisfaction into her neck and kissed her there, the gentle slope that led toward her shoulder, the spot where he knew she was extra-sensitive.

He had no plans of seducing her completely or taking this too far. He just wanted her to remember. The trouble was, once he unbuttoned her shirt and sucked one dusty-rose nipple into his eager mouth, then the other, he seemed to forget all about his original intentions.

She let her head fall back and rest against the wall, arching her back, offering herself up to him. And he took it all, took everything he could, made her his feast.

He needed her. The thought made him straighten and crush her against him, and claim her lips again. He had always needed her, he’d just been too stubborn and full of himself to know it. He had thought he didn’t need anyone, that the job was enough. And maybe there had been a time like that. But not after he’d met her.

He needed her.
He had her for now. Out of that came the next logical thought: There was no way he was going to let her go again.

She might have something to say about that. The treacherous voice of doubt surfaced.

He would just have to convince her that she needed him. Judging from the glazed-over look in her eyes, he was on the right path.

He wanted her.
That wasn’t news. He had always wanted her, from the moment she had fumbled out of her car, all apologetic, asking him with big emerald eyes swimming in worry whether he was all right.

After they had split, he had hoped that eventually the wanting would stop, or would at least fade with time to a bearable level. He’d been wrong. He knew that now. He was going to want her until the day he died.

He loved her.
Now there was a thought to take the air out of his lungs. He loved her still. Maybe even more than before, although that hardly seemed possible. Then again, this time around he knew what it was like to lose her, so that added a whole other dimension.

“What is it?” She looked at him, her face flushed with passion, but concern leaping into her eyes. “Did you hear something?” she whispered.

He blinked, dazed but not confused. He knew without confusion what he wanted. But for that to happen, he had to get them out of here alive. With superhuman effort, he refastened her bra and smoothed down her shirt.

“I got carried away.”

She watched him for a moment before offering a soft smile. “Yeah. Me, too. That hasn’t changed, has it?”

He found it hard to focus on anything but her lips, which a few moments ago were deliciously under his. “Some things always stay the same. Forever.”

It surprised him how good saying that word in connection to her felt.

She raised an eyebrow in a puzzled look that said she was aware of the undercurrents in his mood, but couldn’t quite make them out.

And this was not the time to explain.

Excited shouting outside drowned out the TV. Could be the most recent game was over. He could only hope and pray that the men would leave. They had cost him and Kate way too much time already.

“What time is it?” she asked. Her watch had been snatched when she’d been taken hostage at the beginning.

He glanced at his. “Just after five. In a couple of hours it’ll be dark.” And the Russian forces may take advantage of that and storm the building.

The noose was tightening.

Her stomach growled, and his answered, as if hunger was as contagious as yawning. He was used to going hungry. He’d been on assignments before where he’d had to fight his way out of the jungle with no food and little equipment, foraging as he went.

Not much to forage here. He handed her another soda—the only source of nourishment they had—and grabbed one for himself, too. He was swallowing a big gulp when the sound of breaking glass came from outside, making the drink go down the wrong way. He couldn’t help coughing, but stifled it as much as he could. Gunfire. More coughing came from outside, too. People swearing savagely. His instincts had been honed in battle, and they didn’t fail him now. He pressed Kate’s gas mask to her face before he grabbed his own, securing it in place.

He couldn’t make out her expression behind the mask, but her muscles were drawn tight, her body tense. He squeezed through the crates and listened to the gunfire that came less and less frequently. He cracked open the door. Smoke swirled. The men were fleeing. One still fired backward in the general direction of the balcony as he was running away. There were three on the floor, one still living, but gasping for air. He hadn’t had his gas mask handy, apparently. The other two were dead or dying from multiple gunshot wounds. He assessed them as being past the ability to pose a threat.

“Let’s go.” He took one last glance toward the glass doors that led to the balcony. Broken now by the gas grenade the Russians had shot in.

Obviously, the Colonel had not heard when he’d told him that they would try to exit through the rear balcony. Or he had and had passed on the message, but the Alpha troops didn’t care.

Their previous plan probably still firmly in her mind, Kate did step that way, crunching glass underfoot.

He shook his head and grabbed her arm to take her in the opposite direction, the way the rebels had fled the room. There could only be one reason why the Russians had cleared this place. But he had no time to explain.

In the end, he didn’t have to. Outside, black-clad men rappelled down from above and swung onto the balcony. Except for the blazing guns, the scene looked like a ninja attack. They didn’t stop to ask questions or demand identification. He couldn’t blame them. He was wearing a rebel uniform that marked him as a clear target.

He shoved Kate out of the room ahead of him. “Go!” And took only one glance back. He meant to get a count on how many men were coming in, but the large-screen TV snagged his gaze. It showed the outside of the embassy. The cameras were showing a man’s body being thrown from the other, larger balcony at the front of the building.