Blue Forever (Men in Uniform) (11 page)

Darcy said, “I definitely do not think he’s holding her against her will.”

“The navy isn’t paying you to think, missy,” Jenson retorted.

Around the table, spines went rigid.

“No call for being rude,” Chief Edwards said levelly. He turned to her. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you.”

“Regardless, you have your orders,” Jenson snapped. “Here’s her photo.” He tossed down a woman’s publicity headshot. The name on the back had been redacted, and “Ann Barrett” written above it with the same black marker. Nothing like being obvious.

“I suggest you draw up a plan and get moving. She could reach Sanya any minute.” With that, Jenson stalked from the room.

“Fucker,” Zane muttered.

Bridger got to his feet. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Sir, do we really have to grab the diplomat?” Darcy asked as he left. She was the only one who’d question his orders on this. Okay, not really question, more like clarify. He hadn’t actually given the order.

The commander halted at the door. “You heard the client. He wants Major Llowell taken out of the picture, and he thinks she can make that happen.”

Which wasn’t really an answer.

Okay.

Think subtle
.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “So you’re saying our true objective is to neutralize the major, not necessarily to secure the woman.”

He gave a neutral smile. “I’m sure you’ll come up with an appropriate solution. In the meantime, I have to see a man about a submarine.”

The team watched mutely as he strode out of the wardroom, checking his tablet. They remained silent for a full minute.

“What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Zane grumbled finally.

She exchanged a look with Quinn. He cleared his throat. “Well,” he drawled. “That puts an interesting slant on things, now, doesn’t it? Ideas, people?”

“Are you serious?” asked Walker incredulously, as it dawned on him what they were thinking. “You really believe you can take down an operator with over a dozen years experience in eluding the enemy?”

Quinn shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”

No one on the team so much as cracked a smile, but she knew exactly what they were all thinking.
Well, duh
. Those kinds of odds weren’t the least bit intimidating to this crew.

“Janson’s right though,” Chief Edwards put in, and they all swung around to look at him.

“How so?” Darcy asked.

Edwards leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “The woman is the key to pulling in the major. We really do need to go after her.”

18

DeAnne clung to Kip’s waist and burrowed her face against his back. She’d never been on a motorcycle before. This was a small one and they were not going very fast, but even so, she kept her eyes squeezed tightly closed. The roads were bumpy and winding, and she hadn’t quite got that leaning thing down yet. When Kip took a curve, her body instinctively wanted to lean in the opposite direction, but he made her lean with it. She was convinced they’d tip over on their side and end up a bloody smear in the dirt. He assured her that wouldn’t happen, but she had her doubts. And she definitely didn’t want to see how close her legs got to doing a slide into home plate—minus the plate.

Still, it was infinitely preferable to walking. She wasn’t sure her feet would ever recover from the last twenty-four hours.

She sighed.

Kind of like her heart . . .

She couldn’t believe how quickly they were approaching Sanya. Soon Kip would drop her off, then he’d ride away into the sunset. Possibly never to be seen again. By her, anyway.

It was shocking how much that thought hurt.

How had this happened to her? Had she really
fallen
for the man? A man who wanted nothing to do with a real relationship? A man so wildly inappropriate for her that it made her stomach knot? Of all things, a
Marine
?

Yep. She really had.

Oh, Lord. She was in such trouble.

They worked their way down the mountain, Kip keeping to the small paths that ran between the verdant fields and orchards, until finally they were forced to travel on the main paved road.

Her fingers dug into his muscled flesh as he took the turn onto the pavement, bringing them closer to the moment of truth.

She knew what he wanted from her. A casual, friends-with-benefits, see-each-other-when-we-can relationship. But she didn’t think she could do that.

Sure, she’d slept with him after knowing him less than twenty-four hours . . . but the circumstances had been extraordinary. Not something she’d normally do. Not by a long shot. She’d wanted a taste of the wild side, to throw caution to the wind with an incredibly hot man, to live for the moment because she’d come so close to death yesterday. And because she’d been so ridiculously attracted to him. Still was . . .

He hadn’t led her on, hadn’t pretended to offer any more than what it was. Which was fine. She could handle that. A brief fling, then he’d walk away and it would be over.

But now he wanted to keep seeing her.

And her darn heart had gotten involved.

It would be better to end things here and now. And spare herself the inevitable heartache.

Because she was pretty sure it was going to hurt like the dickens when he left her and moved on. Which he would, sooner or later. That was inevitable, too.

The motorcycle zoomed around one last sweeping curve, and suddenly the trees and hills fell away and a wide, blue expanse of ocean stretched along the horizon. Before them, the first crowded tendrils of modern development reached up into the foothills, melding into the full-blown jumble of the big coastal city of Sanya.

Kip pulled the bike off onto the side of the road, took out his camera and snapped a few shots. Then he half turned to her. “Let me see your phone.”

She dug it out of her shoulder bag and handed it to him, along with the battery and SIM card he’d removed the day before. “Calling your men to come pick us up?”

He gave her a neutral smile, reinserted the card and battery, and punched a few buttons, bringing up her list of contacts. “Something like that.”

She frowned as he hit one of the numbers. “Who are you—”

He kissed her forehead as the phone rang, and put his finger lightly on her lips. “Hush.”

“But—”

He angled away from her, gazing out toward the sea. “I’m sure you know who this is,” he said when someone picked up on the other end, “so just shut up and listen. I’ll be dropping her off at the Sanya Hilton in two hours. Be there with a protective detail, and get her off this island immediately. She wasn’t serious about quitting her job, I forced her to say that. None of this was her doing.”

Then he hung up and plucked the battery and SIM card out again, and handed it all back to her.

She gaped at him. “Why did you do that?”

“You didn’t really think I’d leave you wanted by the Chinese authorities and unprotected?” he asked mildly.

Her heart sank.
So he really was going to leave her behind
.

“Um . . .” No, she hadn’t actually thought about what would happen to her when they parted ways. It had been such an impulsive move to quit her job, and deep down she knew Roger probably didn’t take her seriously. But still, it should have been
her
decision whether or not to ask Roger for help, not Kip’s. She’d hoped Kip would . . .

Never mind what she’d hoped. It wasn’t going to happen.

He steered the bike back onto the road and gave it gas. “And you can tell ol’ Roger that if he doesn’t put you on the first plane out of China, he’ll have me to answer to.”

Her heart did a little flutter at the hardened steel in those words. He sounded deadly serious. He laid his hand over hers and squeezed. The protectiveness his whole body was projecting nearly took her breath away.

But he was leaving her
.

“Kip, you should come with me,” she called over the whine of the motorcycle and the rush of the wind. “Let Roger protect you, too. I’m sure he can get you out if—”

He cut her off. “Not a good idea. I know how international diplomacy works. You guys have to play by the rules, and I sure as hell don’t want to end up rotting in a Chinese prison just so some idiot politician can save face or get a better trade deal on Chinese widgets.”

She couldn’t come up with a good argument against that reasoning, so she kept silent, pressing her body against the heat of his back. Seeking his comfort while she could.

What would become of him? Would he find a way off the island? Or would he be lost forever, buried alive in some horrible Chinese prison.

She felt tears well in her eyes. Which was silly. This was his job, just another day at the office. He’d be fine.

At least that’s what she kept telling herself, all the way to Sanya.

They stopped at a small open market on the outskirts of town, and bought food and a bottle of wine, a pretty native sarong-like outfit for DeAnne, and a cartoon T-shirt and conical straw China hat for Kip. All the while, Kip took photos of everything. Just a couple of tourists. Then they headed for the international district on the bay, where they would blend in with the masses of other sun-worshiping tourists from all over the world.

A few blocks away, they parked the motorcycle, ducked into a doorway and changed clothes, then strolled hand in hand through the district entry checkpoint speaking German to each other.

Well. She spoke German, and he responded using his rather impressive vocabulary of German swearwords.

“I did a stint with MARFOREUR—our European operations in Germany,” he explained with a wink.

Her pulse was hammering as they approached, but the Chinese guards hardly looked up, just gave them a wave through.

There was still over an hour until the appointed drop-off time at the Hilton, so they took a rickshaw down to the beach and had a picnic on the sand amid the crowd of vacationing families and honeymooners.

They spread out the space blanket for a tablecloth and feasted on the delicacies they’d bought, drinking the wine right from the bottle, laughing and talking about everything under the sun. Everything except what was really on DeAnne’s mind.

No sense going there.

“Tell me about your father,” Kip said when the bottle was nearly empty and the remains of their meal lay scattered on the foil blanket. They’d lain down right on the warm sand, her head on his chest and his arm wrapped around her.

The last thing she wanted to discuss was her father.

She sighed. “Not much to tell. He wasn’t around all that often.”

“Because he was sent overseas a lot?”

“That, and he preferred to spend his time with his Marine buddies and their groupies rather than his family.” She gave a humorless chuckle. “Probably a good thing, though. He was a mean drunk. We were better off without him.”

Kip’s arm tightened around her as he digested that. He gave her temple a tight, lingering kiss. “I’m sorry your dad was such an ass.”

She smiled weakly. “Yeah. Me, too.”

She could feel the muscles of his jaw work against her hair. “We’re not all like that, you know.”

No, she didn’t, actually. Kip was far more honorable, and gentle and loving, but he still had a phobia against commitment, just like her dad. He’d made it clear he preferred the nomadic, adrenaline-charged life of a soldier over settling down and having a family. How different was that from her dad, when push came to shove?

But she didn’t feel like spoiling the moment pointing that out.

“Mmm,” she hummed noncommittally. She exhaled, drawing her fingers through the sand, pouring a little pile on the thigh of his jeans. “So what about your dad? Tell me about your family.”

She felt his body go tense. “I don’t really—” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “We haven’t spoken in years.”

She turned to look up at him. For a split second his expression was filled with pain and regret. “Oh, Kip, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

His face went blank, though she could tell there was a wealth of emotion roiling behind his storm-blue eyes. He shrugged. “He didn’t approve of my choice of profession.”

She hiked a brow. “He didn’t want you to be a Marine?”

A crack formed in the granite and a brief smile appeared. “No, that came later. I wanted to be a photographer.”

Okay, no surprise there. He’d been taking pictures like crazy the whole time she’d known him. But—

“I don’t understand. How could anyone possibly object to your being a photographer?”

He exhaled. “The big plan for me was to follow in daddy’s footsteps.”

Daddy? Footsteps? That sounded very . . . um, Upper East Side.

“I take it you didn’t agree.”

“Nothing in the world is more boring than commercial land development.”

She blinked.
Whoa
. He must be . . . wealthy?

In one fell swoop, her entire perception of Kiptyn Llowell turned on its head. She’d assumed . . . Well, whatever she’d assumed, it hadn’t involved having a rich family.

“Yeah,” she managed. “That does sound . . . not terribly exciting.” Of course, neither was being a photographer. Clearly, there was a story there. “So, you left home to make it on your own?”

He gave a short snort. “You could say that.”

Definitely
a story there. “How did you—”

But he looked at his watch and interrupted. “Time’s up. We better get going.”

His entire mood had shifted. He was now as closed up as one of the oysters they harvested in the shallows up north, his family history apparently kept buried deep inside—the irritation he’d built the layers of his life and career around. She was intrigued, but at the same time dismayed that she’d unwittingly shattered the feelings of closeness they’d been sharing. She didn’t want things with him to end like this.

But his movements were swift and efficient as he tossed the remnants of their picnic and packed his belongings into his rucksack. He’d shut her out.

She took a deep breath. Okay. Probably for the best. It would make parting with him a tiny bit easier.

When they were ready, she turned to cross the wide band of sand in the direction of the road.

“Not that way,” he said, and tipped his chin down along the shore. “The Hilton’s down there. We’ll go in the back way, from the beach side.”

“Oh.” She hesitated, then nodded. “All right.”

They started walking, and she saw he was back in soldier mode, casually but intently scoping out their surroundings, his eyes never resting, missing nothing.
What was he looking for?

Along the sandy shore, they passed people lounging on towels, kids building sand castles and playing in the water, teenagers chasing Frisbees and kicking soccer balls. There was no sign of police or army personnel, nothing out of the ordinary for a crowded beach resort.

He stopped a half block from the hotel property, and pretended to watch some windsurfers on the water. “This is where I leave you,” he said.

Shocked, she drew in a sharp breath.
So soon?
She’d known it was coming, but the reality hit her like a kick in the gut.

“Please, Kip. Come in with me. Roger will—”

“No. I know you mean well, but I can’t trust anyone right now except myself.” He turned to her, reaching a hand out to run his fingers down her cheek. “And you. I trust you, DeAnne. But you’re not the one making the decisions for the State Department.”

She swallowed back her emotions, a thick lump forming in her throat. “So this is it, then.”

His thumb brushed over her lips, his stony façade softening for a brief moment. “I hope not. I’ll find you when this is over. I’m not forgetting about that date you promised me.”

It was now or never. She had to do it. For her own good
.