Authors: Raina Wilde
“Lydia.” His smooth voice whispered. “Wake up.”
Her eyes snapped open and Lydia found herself looking directly into the concerned face of Tucker Macey.
“You’re alright.” He whispered. “Just breathe.”
Lydia focused on taking a shaky breath. She trembled beneath Tucker’s hands as they smoothed the hair away from her face.
“You’re alright.” He kept whispering. She closed her eyes, clinging to the repetition of his voice. She was having a difficult time steadying her breath. It came in bursts and starts, quivering with every shake of her body. She felt a lone tear fall from the corner of her eye; it pooled in her ear but she was too paralyzed to wipe it away.
Tucker pulled the comforter back and slid into the bed beside her. He rolled her on her side and cradled her body from behind, wrapping his arms around her and holding tight.
“Breathe with me.” He whispered into her ear. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back, the firm clamp of his arms suppressed all but her most violent tremors. Lydia tried to focus only on the rhythm of his body beside her, the flutter of his breath across her hair. Finally, they breathed in unison. Each inhale and exhale was guided by Tucker, Lydia’s body matched his rhythm blindly.
When she began to drift back to sleep she felt Tucker begin to extricate himself from his position beside her.
“Please, don’t go.” She rolled toward his retreating figure.
He pulled the sheets back over their bodies and cradled her in his arms once more. This time, when Lydia slept, there were no nightmares.
At some later point in the night, Lydia awoke to find that she had rolled over in her sleep. Tucker’s arms still encased her body but now her cheek rested against his chest. His bare chest, she noted. Lydia had been too distracted to realize that when Tucker had awoken her from the nightmare he was wearing nothing more than a pair of athletic shorts.
She closed her eyes and snuggled against him, telling herself to go back to sleep, but sleep did not come. She could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. She could smell the masculine scent of his aftershave. She realized that one of her hands was spread possessively over his abdomen, the rippling muscles beneath her fingers causing her hand to twitch as she suppressed the urge to let it explore. Her other arm was thrown over his side, as if she had used it to pull herself closer at some point. She strummed her fingertips against his back, feeling the myriad of scars that were collected there. She wondered what they were from, wondered if he would ever tell her those stories.
The action did not wake him. When his breathing remained consistent the boldness in Lydia grew. She allowed the hand between them to brush over his hardened abs, inch its way upward to the hollow of his sternum, and journey over the expansive muscles of his chest. Instinct had her pressing her hips closer to his body, the growing desire causing her to be reckless. She felt his body respond to the pressure, though still his breathing did not change.
The hand behind him crept lower, toward his backside. She wondered if it felt as firm as it looked.
“I think that’s far enough, Lydia.” Came the low rumble from his chest. She froze and started to mutter an incoherent apology. She was grateful for the darkness that masked the incredible blush that she could feel spreading over her face, neck, and shoulders. “It’s alright.” He laughed. “But, I figured I’d stop you before you encouraged too much of a reaction. I don’t think you’d want to sleep next to that all night.”
Lydia pressed her forehead against his chest in an attempt to hide. She was mortified.
“You were awake the entire time?” She mumbled against his skin.
Again, he laughed.
“I’m trained to wake up at the slightest change around me, Lydia. If I could sleep through that I think I’d have to turn in my tags.”
“I’m sorry.” She leaned back and tried to evaluate his expression in the darkness. She was now acutely aware of the way that their bodies pressed against each other. The heat building between her legs made her reluctant to withdraw her hips from where they pressed against his. Her breathing was shallow, this time not from fear, and she knew that he could hear it.
Even though it was the last thing she wanted, she moved to pull herself away. Her behavior had been inappropriate and she doubted that Tucker would relish the idea of continuing to hold her through the night. Truthfully, she did not trust herself to lie against him any longer.
His arm around her waist stopped her when she had put a few inches of distance between them. Tucker moved forward and pressed against her once more. This time the hardening of his erection was significantly more pronounced. He removed the arm from her waist and allowed her the opportunity to move away from him if she chose.
The knowledge that he wanted her shot straight to her core. Lydia moved her hips against him and smiled when she heard his low groan in response.
Lydia reached up and pressed her lips against his. It was as if she had released a great dam that had been holding back all of his control. Tucker threaded his fingers into her hair and rolled himself on top of her. She welcomed the weight of him against her.
If she had been asked to remember, she could not have told how they came to remove all of their clothing, only that she was relieved when it was gone. Their hands and mouths seemed to roam everywhere within reach, the urgency with which they grasped at each other revealing the true extent of the tension that had been building between them.
Tucker’s mouth traced a path further and further south until it came to rest against the growing heat between her legs. Lydia cried out in ecstasy as her hands curled into the sheets at her side.
She was panting and writhing when he finally returned to lie above her. Their mouths joined again as he slowly eased inside of her. There could be no words. Her mind was completely blank of all thought, her body reacting with instinct and passion. Lydia was his. There was something deep inside of her that knew it to be true from the moment their bodies connected; something different about this moment than any she had experienced before.
The following morning Lydia awoke on her stomach with her arms curled around a soft pillow. She could feel the heat from Tucker’s body pressed against her side, his arm and a leg slung over her. She could feel his fingers tracing gentle circles on her smooth, mocha arm.
“Your skin is so soft and luxurious,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder where her hair spilled over onto the bed. “I like it.” He hummed. Lydia rolled over and faced him.
The cell phone that rested on the nightstand between the beds began to ring. She wondered what time it was; she would have guessed that it was not long past daybreak.
He climbed from the bed to answer it. The conversation was short but gruff. Lydia had learned enough about his tone to realize that he was not happy with what he was hearing. When he hung up, he flung the phone on his empty bed and cursed.
“What is it?” Lydia asked tentatively.
Tucker moved back to the edge of the bed and sat beside her.
“I need to ask you to do something,” He gritted his teeth. “and you aren’t to like it.”
Lydia sat up, pulling the sheet around her like a shawl.
“Tell me.” She placed a hand on his knee.
“We need you to draw Renaldo out of Monaco, where we have the support of the French military, and can take him into custody. There’s a cabin north of the border, where my team is waiting,” He shook his head and smoothed her hair, “We need to lead him there.”
Lydia’s heart sank. She was bait. Bait for the merciless Renaldo Jaquiennes and his band of criminals. They wanted her to lead him into a trap, but how could she guarantee its success? If the mission failed there would be no chance of convincing Renaldo that she was not a spy. If somehow they failed, Renaldo would kill her first. Tucker understood this. That was why he was so unhappy with the arrangement. However, he had trusted his team to find the best solution and this was what they had come up with. Was there really a choice? she wondered.
“I’ll do it.” She confirmed.
Tuckered grasped her shoulders; they were still tender from the cuts of the previous morning.
“You don’t have to.” He pulled her closer to him so that he could wrap his arms around her. “It’s going to be very dangerous. You don’t have to do this.”
“Is there another option?” she asked.
“Yes.” His short answer informed her that he did not care for that option either.
“What is it?”
“We can try to take Renaldo down here in Monaco, where he is strongest.” Lydia realized straight away that it would be a death mission.
“Absolutely not.” She demanded.
Tucker shook his head. “I can’t guarantee your safety in those woods.”
Lydia cupped his face in her hands and kissed him with tender lips. Somehow, she had come to care deeply for this man in a very short timeframe.
“I’ll do it.” She kissed him again. “You’ll keep me safe.” There was a confidence in her words that he did not seem to share. He leaned his forehead against her own.
“What if I can’t?” He whispered.
“If you can’t, then no one can.” With that, they began to prepare for the day ahead.
The morning was spent making small purchases on the outskirts of the region. Sources had confirmed that Renaldo was watching Lydia’s credit card activity, though she could not fathom how he was able to do that so quickly. They left a trail of purchases that led to a town north of the border. There they made sure to let slip to multiple residents that they would be renting a small cabin a few miles west.
With a trail for Renaldo to follow, the pair drove into the forest to wait their imminent doom. Lydia could not stop shaking. She was so nervous that when she was introduced to the nine other American soldiers, and the fourteen Frenchmen, she could not have repeated any one of their names.
Nightfall came and Lydia became even more nervous. They lit the cabin in all of its glorious splendor. The fireplace was stocked and wet logs were periodically added to create a visible trail of smoke for Renaldo to follow. The cabin itself was like a shining star in the middle of the blackened forest. Three men remained in the cabin with her, hunkered down out of the view of the windows. She was instructed to walk past the windows once every half hour or so, allowing her shadow to pass across the light from within.
When the clock struck midnight she was exhausted. Tucker was somewhere out in the woods with most of the other men, pretending to be trees or whatever invisible features they had disguised themselves as. She hated the idea of him out there. What if Renaldo’s men did not come up the road? What if they crept through the forest and came up behind the waiting ambush.
A shot rang through the night air, causing Lydia to jump up from her seat on the couch. The man who was lying on the floor at her feet pulled her ankles out from beneath her and caused her to crash to the floor.
“Stay down.” The French soldier hissed.
“You told me to walk in front of the windows.” She argued.
“Not anymore.” He rolled away from her, his rifle tucked to his chest, and crawled around the edge of the couch to make a series of hand signals at the men who sat on either side of the doorway. Then he crawled back to lay beside Lydia.
Another shot rang and all of a sudden the night was filled with gunfire. Lydia covered her ears with her hands and closed her eyes. She was curled in the fetal position, trying to imagine away the fire fight, when the front half of the cabin exploded in flames. Lydia screamed and the French soldier clamped a hand over her mouth. His two friends were gone, along with the front half of the building. She did not know what would make an explosion like that but was glad when her protector muttered something about the couch taking the bulk of the blast for them.
“We have to move.” He pulled her to her feet and they ran, in a crouched position, out through the gap where a wall used to be, and into the moonlit forest.
Every so often he would fire a few shots behind them, but Lydia was fairly certain that they were clear of the main fighting which appeared to be happening further down the trail that led to the cabin.
Suddenly, the man beside her collapsed. Lydia saw the clean bullet hole straight through his heart. She turned in time to feel the sharp sting of a bullet pierce her shoulder; another in her thigh caused her to fall to the ground. It was as if her dream had become reality, except that instead of the crunch of glass she could hear the snapping of twigs and leaves.
She saw the figure moving around the edge of her vision and she screamed Tucker’s name as loud as she could. She had no idea where he was. Dead or alive. The figure drew closer and crouched over her. It was not the gray suited man, but Renaldo Jaquiennes himself.
“My pretty American.” He laughed. “Not pretty enough to trick me.”
“I’m not a spy.” She spoke in a hurried voice. Lydia shrieked when he squeezed the tender flesh of her shoulder.
“Liar.” He spat. “You are a spy and you’re going to die like one.”
Lydia realized that the rest of the forest had fallen silent. They had lost, she realized. Why else would the fighting have stopped while Renaldo still lived?