Dangerously Hot (A Hostile Operations Team Novel)(#4) (16 page)

“Guess I better get home. Thanks for the beer.”

After Billy was gone, Kev went back upstairs, determined to hold Lucky close for the rest of the night. Right now, he didn’t even care if they had sex again. He just cared about being next to her, smelling her skin, feeling her heat against his body.

But when he opened his bedroom door, Lucky wasn’t in his bed. Her clothes were no longer on the floor. He sagged against the jamb and stared at the rumpled sheets while his heart squeezed and his lungs worked to pull in air against the sudden tightness in his chest.

She’d gone back to her own bed. He thought about going after her. But he’d let her call the shots tonight, and she was clearly calling another one.
 

Kev shut the door and peeled off his clothes. Then he got into bed—and promptly threw the pillow that smelled like her shampoo on the floor.
 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

December 28
th

Baq, Qu’rim

Qu’rim was like an oven inside a blast furnace after the frigidness of DC. Lucky walked down the gangway and onto the tarmac as a wall of heat assailed her lungs. She’d put on an abaya and a hijab before they’d left Morocco, and now she was wishing she could strip it off and bare her skin to whatever air might be moving out here.

She shaded her eyes—though she was wearing sunglasses—and gazed across the tarmac at the mobile missile launchers parked on the other side of the runway.
 

Kev stopped beside her, his brow glistening with sweat, his eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses. And then he grinned at her—the first time he’d done so in days—and her heart turned over. Jeez, he was handsome. And not hers, no matter what they were pretending.

“Well, darlin’,” he said, turning up the drawl, “you sure are a good little wife to want to come with me to this hot place while I take photos for the magazine.”

Lucky’s heart thumped. He’d been blasting her with Southern charm for hours now. It was for the mission, but it was starting to grate. “That’s me, sugar dumpling. A good wife.”

They’d spent the last five days preparing for this mission, with the exception of Christmas Day when they’d gone to Matt and Evie’s place for dinner and conversation. These guys had even managed some excitement in those few days when Billy Blake had stumbled onto a conspiracy to sell faulty weapons to the Pentagon, and the team had gone to work to dismantle a defense contractor’s falsified test results. And Billy had reunited with the woman he loved. If anyone was surprised at the speed with which he’d entered a committed relationship, they didn’t say so.

Lucky remembered Olivia Reese from Fort Bragg, but she’d never known her well. Good for Olivia for getting her man finally. And poor Billy, having to leave her so soon after they’d gotten together again. Lucky knew what it was like to stay behind and worry. She only hoped this mission would be of short duration, and they’d all go back home in one piece.

Ryan Gordon came down the stairs and stopped beside Lucky and Kev. He was the reporter to Kev’s photographer, which would enable the two of them to work closely together while they searched for Al Ahmad and the Freedom Force. The other guys were here in various capacities—engineers, computer gurus, geologists, relief workers—that would enable them to communicate and work together in teams of twos and threes.
 

The team had flown commercial air from Morocco, which was unusual, but they’d felt that a military transport would be too obvious for anyone paying close attention. A couple of the guys had come in on an earlier flight. There were five of them on this flight, plus her. The last two would come a little later. It was simply to keep from arousing suspicion, but Lucky wasn’t sure guys who looked like these could manage to go unnoticed for long.

They were all tall, broad, and utterly lethal. Not that they appeared lethal right now. Kev looked casual and somewhat harmless in his khakis, flip-flops, and navy T-shirt. Flash was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of shorts. She caught sight of Jack Hunter and nearly swallowed her tongue. He was handsome, sure, but he was also the epitome of a totally rad surfer dude. He had two days’ worth of stubble, a faded T-shirt, and board shorts with flip-flops. His hair gleamed golden in the bright sunlight, and when he smiled his teeth were blindingly white.

“Darlin’,” Kev said, edging closer and putting his hand on her elbow. “I thought I told you I was the jealous type.”

“I have eyes only for you. But that guy is hot, you have to admit.”

Flash laughed. Matt Girard came down the stairs next, swaggering like he didn’t have a care in the world. She wished she knew what he’d smoked to get that way. Matt didn’t go on missions very often anymore, but this one was the exception. They all wanted to be involved in capturing the world’s most wanted terrorist. It was personal to them.

Lucky pulled in a hot breath and threw up a quick prayer that everything worked the way it was supposed to as they started toward the shelter of the terminal.
 

She didn’t miss the guards with machine guns or the military vehicles parked nearby, and she knew the guys didn’t either. The troops wore the colors of the king’s government, which was a good thing. Control of the airport was vital during the crisis, and the Qu’rimis still held it. So far, the opposition forces were confined to the desert—but if they got into Baq and took the airport, things would not be good for the king and his government.

Lucky prayed that didn’t happen. And definitely not while they were here.

They went inside the coolness of the terminal and processed through immigration. Then they all ranged around the baggage carousel, waiting for their luggage. Lucky knew the guys had sophisticated equipment in some of those bags, and she hoped the Qu’rimis hadn’t been too curious. Nothing looked military grade, of course, which was good.

Eventually, the carousel started to rotate and the bags spilled out in slow motion. By the time everyone had everything, a man with a sign that said Royal Baq Hotel on it had arrived and was standing near the entrance.
 

“That’s us, darlin’,” Kev said before grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the man. The others followed suit along with a few people she didn’t recognize. They left the terminal and went out into the heat again, crossing the road that ringed the airport and stopping beside a rickety bus with faded paint. The windows were down, which was not a good sign so far as she was concerned.

The driver helped stow the bags—though the team held on to some of theirs—and then they filed onto the bus and sat down for the ride. Kev slid in next to her and put his arm around her.
 

It was strange, considering how they’d avoided each other—and any uncomfortable conversations—for the last several days, but it was totally in character. None of the guys even blinked.

Kev’s head dropped until his mouth was next to her ear. “Relax. You’re strung tighter than a tick on a dog. This is the easy bit, so sit back and enjoy the scenery.”

In spite of the heat, his breath on her ear sent a shiver tripping down her spine. She turned her head until their mouths almost met. It looked intimate to anyone watching, but she wasn’t concerned. They were here now, and this was their cover.

“How do you stand this kind of thing?”

“Usually, the objective is a little clearer. We know where we’re going and what we’re after. This time, we sit and wait and hope what we’re after comes to us.”

She laid her head against his shoulder because she could and looked out the window as the bus began to move. The traffic grew thicker toward the city itself, and there were tanks parked at crossroads and entry points into the city. The traffic slowed to a crawl as they rolled deeper into the city.

The air was stale and dusty and the heat oppressive in the metal confines of the bus. Sweat pooled between her breasts, rolled down her belly. The slower they went, the less the air moved. Lucky sat up and moved away from Kev, not because she wanted to get away, but because it was too hot to stay plastered next to him.

Outside the bus, the city was a mixture of modern and ancient. Mud-brick buildings coexisted with skyscrapers, and donkey carts moved down the streets along with SUVs. It was this mix, this blend of the haves and have-nots, that made Al Ahmad’s rebellion possible. The city was prosperous, but it had pockets of poverty. The desert was a different story. Out there, people existed on the edge of ruin—and they knew it.

Years of bad policies had set Qu’rim back, though the current king was working to fix the mess he’d inherited from his father. They passed carts laden with fruit and vegetables, refrigerated trucks, and in one memorable instance, a group of nomads on camels.

Lucky turned to look at Kev. He’d leaned his head back on the seat and was looking at her from beneath his lashes. Sweat glistened on his face and ran down his neck, pooling in the notch at the base of his throat.

Sexy.

Lucky swallowed. “How much farther do you think?”

Kev rolled his head on the seat and looked out the window. “We’ve passed the third perimeter. The city center is up ahead. Twenty minutes at this pace.”

Lucky sighed and stuck a finger under her hijab to scratch her head. Her hair was damp. “I’ll need a shower the minute we get there.”

Kev grinned. “Me too. We can conserve water together, darlin’.”

Her heart flipped. “You’re a little too into this,” she hissed under her breath. Because she was already wired enough. She didn’t need the added strain of dealing with Kev’s enthusiasm for his role.

He shrugged and went back to studying the insides of his eyelids. Twenty minutes later, they rolled beneath the shaded overhang of the Royal Baq Hotel’s circular drive. The hotel wasn’t precisely a luxury hotel, in spite of the name, but it looked decent enough. They’d passed buildings that had been sprayed with bullet holes earlier, so the fact this one didn’t have any was a good thing.

There were quite a few Westerners in the driveway and ranged throughout the lobby. Many of them had cameras, but they didn’t move with the casualness of tourists.

“This is where the media stays,” she whispered.

Kev nodded. Then he put his mouth next to her ear. “It’s inconvenient in some respects, but better too. We’d stand out somewhere else. Here, we’re part of the crowd. And hopefully we’ll blend in as just another set of Americans who’ve come to report on the unrest.”

“Don’t you think interested parties will pay attention to this hotel in particular?” Not all the women wore abayas, but they were wearing hijabs to cover their hair. Lucky could have done the same, but she felt safer this way. She was shapeless and anonymous, and it helped her to breathe easier when she thought about Al Ahmad and the Freedom Force being out there somewhere. Watching.

“Of course they will. But they don’t have the resources to background check everyone who checks in, so unless someone stands out in some way, they’ll ignore us.”

Lucky frowned. For some reason she’d thought they’d be a whole lot more inconspicuous than this. “I hope you’re right.”

They left the bus and entered the lobby to stand in line with everyone else. Kev put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him. His expression was dead serious. “We’re on it. This is what we do. Have some faith.”

She firmed her jaw as she gazed up into his eyes. This was probably the longest they’d made eye contact since the night they’d had sex, and it shook her deep in her core. A thrill of sexual awareness flared to life inside her as his hands held her in place and his eyes seemed to burrow into her soul.

She’d felt so close to him when they’d been wrapped around each other in his bed, and not just physically. She wanted that feeling again, but she knew it was all on her side. Kev didn’t have that same need. He’d warned her he’d only wanted sex, and then he’d move on.

Well, she’d moved on for them both. She’d overheard him and Billy talking that night, and she knew she had to give Kev the space he needed. She’d seduced him, put him into a position where he had to lie to his teammate, and she wouldn’t do it again.

Still, she’d gone back to her own room and lay there listening for him. She’d heard him go into his room. She’d half-hoped he would fling her door open and demand to know why she’d left. But he hadn’t. He’d gone to bed alone. The next morning, he’d acted like nothing had happened.
 

Well, almost nothing. He’d asked her if she was okay. She’d said yes. And then he’d stood there for a long moment, hands in pockets, looking like he wanted to say something. The longer he hesitated, the more she knew she didn’t want to hear it. So she’d given him a smile and told him thanks for the stress relief. He’d blinked. She’d poured her coffee into her go-cup and gone to put on her coat. By the time he’d joined her, he didn’t look like he was having trouble figuring out what to say anymore.

Now she nodded at him. “I trust you, Kev.”

His throat worked and she knew those words affected him in some way. And then he gave her that cocky grin he’d adopted since they’d started this mission. “That’s why you married me, sugar.”

His hands dropped, and she stood there for a moment, uncertain what to do. Then she pulled her cell phone from her purse—a newly issued phone, of course, not her personal one—and checked for bars. There were two.