Army of Two (18 page)

“And unprofessional.”

“Completely.”

“Well, you’d better get over it, because if you leave me behind I’ll follow you anyway.”

“Why?”

“I just told you. You need me.”

“Don’t you trust me? Don’t you believe you can depend on me?”

“Of course, I do. I’d trust you with my life, Mitch.”

“It’s your life I’m worried about.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the safest place for me is right beside you. What would happen if I stay here and the man who’s looking for Bamford finds this cabin? We’ve been walking around this area for days. The grass is beaten down. Anyone with any sense would be able to tell it’s no longer deserted.”

His gaze flicked to the window.

She pressed her advantage. “I wouldn’t be able to defend myself, either, since I’d be tied up.”

“I’d leave you a gun. You wouldn’t let him tie you up.”

“I didn’t mean him, I meant you, because tying me up is the only way you’re going to be able to leave me behind.”

“You’re really determined to do this?”

“As determined as you are, Mitch.”

“It’s going to be risky.”

“I’m fully aware of that. I just care about you too much to let you do this alone.”

He cupped her chin. “You care about me. What exactly does that mean?”

It was a dangerous question, one she didn’t want to think about, let alone answer. She turned back to the table and picked up the piece of charcoal. “At least you admitted we’re still a team.”

“I think we make an excellent team,” he said, moving behind her. “But let’s get back to the other thing you said. You were telling me how you feel.”

“It’s just an expression. I’m worried about what would happen to you, okay?”

“I wouldn’t say that I care about you.”

“You wouldn’t?”

He put his hands on the table on both sides of her hips to cage her between his arms. “That word’s not strong enough for what I feel.”

She dropped the charcoal again and rubbed her arms. “What you feel is from stress. Hormones.”

“For sure, there’s chemistry involved.”

“We’ve bonded because of the circumstances. It’s temporary.”

“I know that’s what we said earlier, but it doesn’t hold up anymore, Chantal. I think we’ve both been in denial over what’s happening here. It’s not going to go away just because it’s not convenient.”

“Mitch, please. We already discussed this. More than once. Let’s leave it alone.”

He curled his body over hers to rest his chin on her shoulder. “Do you want to know something strange?”

“You mean besides the two of us having this discussion when we really should be planning how to stop a murdering monster?”

“Yes, besides that.” He nosed her hair aside and kissed her ear. “Remember the last time we saw each other? Before now, that is.”

Of all the ridiculous questions. Remember it? She closed her eyes and looked at the image of the twenty-eight-year-old Captain Redinger that had been burned into her brain. His Patriots sweatshirt had been newer and cleaner than the one he wore now. The shoulders had been spattered with raindrops. His wet hair had shone from the lamp on the foyer table as he’d leaned over to pick up the blanket that she’d dropped. “Vaguely.”

“I almost hadn’t come over.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because ten seconds before you phoned me, I could have sworn I heard your voice calling to me.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I didn’t, either. I figured you must have been on my mind because of your mother’s funeral. Or because I’d been expending a lot of energy trying to avoid you.”

She dipped her shoulder to dislodge his chin and pushed against one of his arms. “You don’t need to go into that again.”

He folded his arms in front of her waist to hold her in place. “Let me finish. The strange part is that I thought it was possible the two of us had some sort of connection. I’d tried to regard you as a kid sister for a while. That could have been why.”

No. Oh, please, she didn’t want to hear this.
He
’d thought they’d had a connection? That had been part of her fantasy, the make-believe world where Mitch had loved her.

“There’s unquestionably something between us now,” he said. “You said it’s due to the circumstances.”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“Possibly, but it doesn’t explain why I feel so strongly about protecting you, or why having my arms around you seems like such a natural thing to do.”

Chantal covered her face with her hands. Her inner teenager wasn’t celebrating this time. She was laughing. Mocking her. Thumbing her nose at the attempts she’d made to stifle her. “If it feels natural, it’s because sex is a natural function. It’s nothing special.”

He tightened his embrace. The muscles in his forearms flexed, lifting her breasts. “This feels special to me.”

“You’re deliberately trying to distract me. You want me to stop worrying about the plan to go after Knox.”

He turned her to face him, took her hands in his and pressed them to his lips. “Since I can’t persuade you to stay behind, I’m going to be honest with you, Chantal. The odds of success aren’t good. Even with your help, we’ll still be vastly outgunned and outnumbered.”

For an instant, she wished that he could have lied. Why couldn’t he have called the situation a minor setback again, or assured her in that confident voice he’d used so often before that they’d find a way?

Yet that wouldn’t be Mitch. He might sugarcoat the truth to comfort her, but he was too honorable to mislead her with false hope. “We still have to try. Neither of us could live with ourselves if we didn’t.”

“I swear, I’ll do everything I can to keep you from getting hurt.”

She nodded. “I know you will.”

“Good, because I don’t want to talk anymore. I can think of a far better use for my mouth.”

There was absolutely nothing she could think of to say to that. She lifted her face. He lowered his.

The kiss tore through her nerves, kicking her pulse into a run. This was what she’d been waiting for all day. In spite of what she’d attempted to tell herself, from the moment she’d awakened she’d been longing to recapture the mindless pleasure of the night before. The difference was, this pleasure was bittersweet.

One way or another, her time together with Mitch would end tonight. No matter how thoroughly they tried to prepare for this attempt against Knox and his gang of killers, the chances of pulling it off were dismal. If by some miracle they did succeed, then everyone would be safe and life would go back to normal. That meant she would stay at the Aerie and he would return to his life at Fort Bragg.

If they didn’t succeed, they could die. They both knew it. It was the reason they were so edgy. It was why they’d been arguing, and why this kiss was making her head spin.

She slid her arms around Mitch, holding on as hard as she could. In her kiss, she could express the feelings that she hadn’t dared to put into words. The emotions she’d locked away in her heart so many years ago could never compare to the love she felt for him now.

Panic curled through her stomach. No. She couldn’t be in love. She knew better than that.

The two of us had some sort of connection.

No!
She grabbed his hair and yanked his head up before the old fantasies could get started again. “This is sex, Mitch,” she said. “That’s what we’re feeling.”

He turned his head to rub his teeth along her wrist.

“Don’t try to make out there’s anything more to it,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s all I’m willing to give you.”

His gaze bored into hers. “Are you sure?”

She wasn’t sure about anything except the overwhelming need to touch him. She pushed up his sweatshirt and unbuckled his belt. “You said it yourself. A team never functions well if there’s tension between the members.”

He grabbed her hand as she started on his zipper. “I didn’t mean this kind of tension.”

“Why not? We’re both adults. We know where this leads. Sex is a great way to relieve stress.”

“You told me this morning you didn’t do one-night stands. Now you’re saying you’d make love with me for the sake of team morale?”

Moisture flooded her eyes. She blinked it away. “No, Mitch. I wouldn’t make love. Love has nothing to do with it. Why are you arguing?”

“I’m not.”

“Then do you want to have sex or not?”

He pressed her fingers to the front of his pants. “What do you think?”

Her breath caught as she traced the hard length that strained against the fabric. An answering heat curled between her legs.

This time he didn’t try to stop her when she lowered his zipper. He tilted his pelvis to make it easier. She shoved his pants past his hips, hooked her thumbs into the elastic of his boxers to pull them aside and took his erection into her hands.

He might have groaned. Or swore. Neither of them spoke again after that. She felt the touch of cool air, then the warmth of his fingers as he moved his hands beneath her sweater. Without letting him go, she leaned the top of her head on his chest. The pleasure he gave her blended with what she gave him. She watched him respond to every stroke of her palms and squeeze of her fingers, even the sweep of her hair as the ends brushed his skin. Her own arousal deepened with each increasing sign of his until the urge to do more became painful. She moved restlessly, her grip firming.

Mitch unzipped her jeans and pushed them to her thighs. She had time to kick free from only one leg before he grasped her by the hips and lifted her to the table. The friction of her sensitized skin against the wood made her gasp. She was ready, past ready. Without any more delay, he slid his hands beneath her buttocks and entered her.

It was primitive and powerful. It was what she’d offered him. Sex, that was all. There were no soft words or promises, no room for thoughts of the future, only a driving, pounding need. She hooked her legs behind his waist and lay back when he leaned over her, clasping his arms, hanging on as he finished what they’d started. She wanted to do this for him, to give him what he’d so generously given her the night before. She would find her own satisfaction in his.

Or so she’d thought. From out of nowhere, her back arched with a climax that knocked the breath from her lungs. It reached deeper, it took her higher than anything she’d experienced in her life.

If she’d been in love with Mitch, joining their bodies would have been the ultimate pact. A physical expression of their emotional commitment. It would be an occasion to savor. To celebrate. She’d had gauzy, romantic dreams of this moment that had included soft music, flower petals and satin sheets.

Never had she pictured an impulsive, partially clothed coupling on a charcoal-smeared table.

“Chantal?” he kissed her temple, then worked his way to the corner of her mouth. He pulled her to sit up as he withdrew. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it was…good.”
Good?
The word was far too tepid. She felt as if she were floating, her limbs too lax to move. Little sparks of pleasure continued to pulse through her body.

His belt buckle clinked as he hitched up his pants and fastened them. The sound set off another series of sparks. He ran his hands over her back and down her hips. “Your sweater wasn’t much of a cushion. Damn, I hope you didn’t get any slivers.”

Her lips trembled. She wasn’t sure whether it was from a laugh or a sob. No music, no romantic bed. No declaration of undying passion from her lover, only concern that she might have acquired splinters from the wooden table.

Of course, what else could she have expected from a practical man like Mitch? “I’m fine,” she said. It was an understatement. If she’d wanted to describe her condition more accurately, she would have needed to purr.

The laugh won. She swayed forward to kiss him.

He smiled against her lips as he continued to skim his palms over her bare leg. He tugged the dangling leg of her jeans past her foot and dropped them to the floor. “I promised myself I’d take a closer look.” Leaning over, he trailed kisses along the skin he’d just bared. “Next time, we won’t be in such a hurry.”

The sensation of his breath on her thigh sent an echo of pleasure between them. She tunneled her fingers through his hair. Music and satin were overrated. “Next time?”

“Mmm. I can’t figure out how you can still smell like roses after two nights in the bush,” he murmured, kissing the angle of her hip bone. He stopped midway to her right knee. His fingertip circled the patch of smooth tissue on the outside of her thigh. “What’s this?”

He’d only seen her by candlelight the night before. Seventeen years ago, he hadn’t taken the time to look at her then the way he was now. The pleasure faded. She wriggled away from his touch and slid off the table. “It’s an old scar. It’s nothing.”

He scooped her jeans from the floor and paused to scrutinize her leg. He straightened slowly, his smile disappearing. “Chantal, that looks like a bullet wound.”

Chapter 12

C
hantal took her clothes from Mitch and turned her back to put them on. The sudden shyness she felt was absurd, considering what they’d just done. Yet like this morning, she felt too exposed. She zipped her jeans.

“The wound
was
from a bullet, wasn’t it?” he persisted. “I’ve seen enough of them to know.”

Automatically, she dropped her right hand and touched it to the denim over the scar on her leg.

“I’ve noticed you do that before,” he said, placing his hand over hers. “I never knew what you were rubbing. Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just a stupid old habit.” She twisted away and walked to the window. The breeze was scraping the branch across the glass again. She peered past it toward the lake. “We should probably start the climb up the hill if we want to be in position by dark.”

“There’s still plenty of time.” He limped across the floor, took her by the shoulders and regarded her soberly. “How did it happen?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It must, because you’re trying to change the subject. You’ve done that before too, when something makes you uncomfortable. Talk to me.”