Free Fall (16 page)

She was about to launch into the most important mission of her life, one that could send the world into tumult, and still she couldn’t help but think about the image of Jose’s face when he’d told her he still loved her.

Everything here in Africa had been so intense between them. They’d only had five months together, a month apart. And in less than twenty-four hours, it could all be over. She could actually lose him in a way far more final than any breakup.

Faced with what waited for them tomorrow, she couldn’t imagine confronting it with the weight of regrets bearing down on her heart, on her soul. They only had this one last night in lodgings in Mogadishu to themselves before their part of the operation. She couldn’t find a single good reason not to spend that night with Jose.

***

Ajaya wondered how much longer they would keep him here at this base. The man who’d questioned him yesterday had left, but one of his friends remained. How often would they make him come back to this room for questions?

At least they let him sleep in a bed in a room by himself. The space had been cool and dark, the shower warm, and the loose clothes soft. But sleep? That had been tough to find, especially after the attack outside the gates. If the people who’d kidnapped him from the school took him back, after he’d been here…?

He would die. Painfully.

His only chance at living was to play this through until he could escape on his own. Because not for a minute did he trust this man in a suit that looked just like the other man who’d questioned him yesterday. The one they’d called Smith had cleared out fast for some reason. This person today, he went by Mr. Jones and wore a cowboy hat like that was supposed to make him look friendlier. His skin was also dark, but not as dark as Ajaya’s. But he wondered if they thought he would be more likely to open up because of something as meaningless as similar skin color.

He just wanted to go someplace safe and start a new life.

Mr. Jones sat in the seat across from him, elbows on his knees. “We know you aren’t telling us everything, and hey, I can understand why you didn’t want to talk before. Mr. Smith is a scary dude. Working for him…” He shook his head, swiping off his cowboy hat and hooking it on his knee. “It’s no picnic, let me tell you. I’m glad to have some breathing space now that he’s gone.”

As if he was stupid enough to buy this man’s nice guy act? Ajaya cocked his head to the side, pretending to be the stupid kid they seemed to assume he was. “Picnic? I am hungry.”

“Of course. We’re happy to bring you anything you want.” He waved to an airman in camouflage behind him, a guy not much older than Ajaya. “How about a hamburger? An American hamburger, made right here by our own cooks.”

“Food would be nice,” Ajaya said, wondering if they would drug him like the pirates who’d taken him had, at first, until they had him so far away from the school he could not run anyway.

Jones smiled, showing off his perfect white teeth, no signs of hunger or worse. “And another soda? Although the fella over there calls it ‘pop,’ and Mr. Smith calls it ‘Coke.’ All depends on where you’re from. We have little quirks about the way we speak English. It is easy to make a mistake. Maybe you misspoke about something you told us.” Mr. Jones tapped him lightly with his outback hat. “But you could correct that mistake now.”

Yes, he spoke English very well, and he was not a gullible boy anymore. Gullible—a fancy word he had learned in school. Gullible—what he had been when a teacher introduced him to two men promising money and a job. “You think I am lying? I went to an orphanage school, with very good teachers who taught me how to speak your English. You can find out.”

He stretched out his story to buy himself time to plan, to escape. Because when this Mr. Jones and all his fancy suited friends finished with him, they would throw him away. No one here cared about him. So he had not told them everything then. And he did not intend to now. He needed information to ensure he would not end up unprotected again.

He had not meant to betray his friends at school. He had not meant for them to be taken too because of him. That had torn him apart for a long time.

But now, he would turn on all of them if that was what it took to get away.

***

Jose had twelve hours to sleep before he kicked the enemy’s ass—or not.

Towel tied low on his waist, he brushed his teeth after the first shower this week that had lasted longer than ninety seconds. How bizarre that this Mogadishu hotel room looked much the same as countless others he’d stayed in around the world before launching a mission. Brown tile bathroom, a few extra mosaics, and a few less breath mints.

Sleeping away what could be the end of his life seemed like a lame idea, but being anything less than one hundred percent tomorrow would be beyond a bad idea. Tomorrow afternoon, the wife of the vice president of the United States would step in front of the microphones to give a goodwill speech that would be televised live on cable news stations around the globe. On a regular day, people might not even pay much attention to her visit.

But if the world exploded?

The cameras would all be in place, and those small cable stations would have footage of a horror that would terrorize millions.

Unless their information was incorrect. Stella had explained she only had part of the code. They could be chasing ghosts. What if the times, dates, and locations were wrong? The bastards could be as tough to pin down as… toxic fumes.

Damn it, he never had doubts or questions before a mission. He always lived in the moment. Until he’d met Stella.

And he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight until he laid eyes on her. She’d been escorted by local security to the parallel hall, to the rooms for agents, while the military bunked along the other corridor. The best damn protected hotel in Mogadishu.

He tore open the bathroom door, and…

“Damn, Stella.” He grabbed his towel before it hit the floor since he’d loosened it reaching for his gun. “How did you get in here?”

Hands behind her back, she stood just inside the door, her hair damp and loose around her shoulders. She looked more like the woman he’d first met in her jeans and black T-shirt.

She held up a hairpin. “I have crazy good lock picking skills. Comes with the job description.”

God, he’d missed her. He pulled the toothbrush out of the corner of his mouth and tucked it in his gear bag. “You broke into my room to see me?”

Leaning back against the door, she shrugged. “It seemed a better idea than waiting out in the hall until you finished your beauty regimen.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” He scratched along his bare chest. “The whole calm before the storm feeling has me antsy. I wouldn’t have slept well, wondering about you.”

Her eyes lingered on his chest. “You sleep anywhere, like today on the flight over.”

“You watched me sleep?” He walked to her, thinking about their night in Egypt. How could he not? He stopped short of touching her. “Honest to God, Stella, I’m not in the mood to talk. I think I should get dressed and take you back to your room.”

She dropped the pin and reached to touch his chest, trailing one finger lightly back and forth, searing him clean through. “I’m thinking more about what I said earlier. The whole point that we could die a truly gruesome death tomorrow.”

“You’re really romancing me here, lady.” He clasped her wrist, stopping her before his erection dislodged the towel altogether.

“This isn’t about romance.” She stepped closer until they stood chest to chest, her pulse throbbing faster against his hold. “It’s about how if I die tomorrow, I’ll regret passing up the chance to be with you again.”

“And if we live?” He sketched her damp red hair back, his knuckles skimming along that vital pulse echoing in her wrist, a vitality he would do anything to protect.

“Then I deal with the fallout.” She angled closer, her words heating over his mouth. “Can you accept that?”

Her meaning was clear. She wanted to be with him again, just for tonight, and hell yes, he knew she wasn’t thinking long term. She was here for all the wrong reasons and he couldn’t tell her no.

He slid his arms around her and pressed her flush against the hard length of how damn much he wanted to be with her. “I can’t think of a time I would ever turn down the opportunity to sleep with you.”

Making love with Jose felt like the only right thing in a world turned upside down.

She didn’t stop to question why she was with him again in spite of how damn hard she’d grieved over their breakup. She didn’t have the luxury of time right now. If ever there was a night to live in the moment, this was it.

Sliding her hands down his sides, his skin warm and damp from his shower, she hooked her fingers in his towel and tugged, revealing the rest of his bronzed skin. Her fingers sketched down, down farther until they grazed along the familiar tattoo on his butt—the green footprints were a tradition for PJs, or so he’d told her. But remembering that discussion was for another time. Right now, she was all about the now. And she did so enjoy looking at him, tall and rangy, built for strength and endurance he tapped into for work, for play… and for sex.

“Stella…” His forehead rested against her, his wet hair sliding a drop of water down her temple. “Are we good on birth control?”

They’d used condoms at first until discussing how she’d chosen to have a Norplant because of her job undercover, to protect herself in the event of possible capture… and assault. It couldn’t prevent diseases, but at least she wouldn’t have to fear pregnancy. “I’m still covered. And I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

“Me either,” he said raggedly, the pain of the breakup unmistakable in his voice.

His body curved into hers, his head angled down toward her. His mouth was only a whisper away from hers, but he didn’t kiss her. Not yet. Each heated breath flowed faster over her. The fresh scent of toothpaste and soap seeped through her. Who would have thought Crest and Dial could be aphrodisiacs?

His rich mocha-colored eyes still held hers as she tossed his towel to the floor. She leaned closer into him, the thick length of his erection pressing into her stomach. He hissed between his teeth, and yet still no kiss. She ached to be nearer, as close as she could get.

“Touch me,” she demanded softly.

A slow, confident smile spread across his angular face—arrogant man—and she loved it. Soon all that confidence would pour through his bold hands…

On her.

A husky moan crawled up her throat as his palms sketched lightly down her arms inch by inch until he cupped her hips. Her breasts went tight and heavy in the confines of her bra, only brushing his chest with each inhale. She burned to be flesh to flesh against him. But after a month of living with the possibility of never being with him again? No way in hell was she squandering this moment with fast gropes and a quickie before they rolled over and went to sleep.

And from the intensity in his eyes combined with the restraint in his hands rubbing oh-so-lightly into her hips, apparently Jose felt the same way.

Every breath from him, she took into herself and then gave back, flowing in and out of each other, foretelling the way their bodies would eventually join.

She traced the lines of his collarbone, up the rigid tendons in his neck. “Undress me.”

“I will. Soon enough.”

Just when she thought he would make her ask again, he plucked the hem of her shirt from her jeans. That simple friction of cotton against tingling nerves sent a shiver over her. Bit by bit he bunched her shirt in his fists, peeling it over her head with total precision, control. In the instant her eyes were covered, her breath hitched in her throat, and the loss of connection with his eyes and their synced up breaths cut through her. Her balance rocked. Then he tugged her shirt free and flung it across the room to land on a stone elephant lamp in the corner.

His eyes captured hers again, and the room faded away. The décor and furniture didn’t matter. Just the two of them together, and God, there was something mystical about being here where so much of history began, the timeless connection much like when they’d first made love with the Nile as a backdrop.

His head dipped to brush her shoulder. “Your freckles are the sexiest damn things I’ve ever seen.”

Her head fell to the side as she gave him freer access, her hands sliding to cup his taut ass, every bit of him honed with muscle, the lean body of a marathoner. “My freckles? Really?” Her words rode hitchy gasps. “I think you’re stretching it a bit with that one.”

A simple twitch of his fingers and he’d unfastened her bra as artfully as she’d picked the lock on his door.

“If that’s what you want to tell yourself.” His lips grazed freckle after freckle, lower and lower. “But I’m not budging on this. Counting them, following them… Yep, one of life’s greatest pleasures.”

His tongue flicked one tight nipple. Her nails dug into his buttocks.

“Call me silly, but I always just enjoyed—enjoy—the way it feels when we’re bare skin to skin.” Biting her lip, she toed her shoes off. “So if you’re going to undress me, my jeans come next.”

His laugh rumbled low in his chest, vibrating against her breasts. But hallelujah, his hands moved to the snap of her jeans.

“Remember when we rented that safari cabin for a weekend and at our picnic lunch I painted most of that bare skin of yours with guava jam, then I licked you clean?” He peeled her pants down, underwear, socks, and all. “I was searching for freckles.”

His face nuzzled her stomach, his deeply tanned face contrasting with her paler skin in a yin and yang way that made such sense when they were together. She liked it when life made sense and wrestled to find the reason in why she’d been this undeniably drawn to Jose from the start.

She grabbed his shoulders for support. Her legs went wobbly. “We had to swim in the Shebelle River to get clean enough to put our clothes back on. I was certain we would get discovered by someone—or stampeded by a herd of goats.”

“The rhinos ignored us, and the place was every bit as secluded as I promised.” He pitched her pants to the side. “We had fun together.”

“We did.” She cupped his face, her heart squeezing tight in her chest, which made it even tougher to recapture the beautiful flow of energy between them when even their breaths were one. “If I had it all to do over again, I would still want to know you, to be with you, even though I understand why it had to end.”

Standing, he hooked his arms under her bottom and lifted her against him. “Don’t talk about endings, not tonight.”

The
kiss.

Yes.

Now.

She slanted her lips over his, her damp hair falling around their faces as if to further insulate them from the world. He carried her toward the bed, the tips of her toes just skimming the carpet. Her flesh pressed to his, her mouth open and hungry, savoring the minty sweep of his tongue.

Turning, he backed toward the bed and she read his intent without hesitation. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he eased onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard. Still face to face, she straddled his lap, his hard-on still between them. She lost track of how long they touched each other, stroked and stoked, taking their time with each other. The lovemaking a process rather than a goal.

Being with Jose had been fun and exciting, and always one hundred percent in the moment. The man was about marathons, not sprints. Why couldn’t he see that part of his nature was so ingrained he was meant for the long term? He deserved it.

“Stella,” he said against her lips, “stay with me.”

That easily he drew her focus back into the moment, back to the two of them together. How he read her, sensed that her thoughts had been stealing her from this moment together… that scared her. And hurt her. He knew her so damn well.

His hands cupped her waist and he lifted her with ease, positioning her over and lowering her onto his erection. Muscles in his arms bulged with restraint as he took his time bringing them together again, filling her.

Totally.

Tonight wasn’t about reinventing the Kama Sutra. No games or gimmicks. Just the two of them, bodies, breath, thoughts connected, not just tantric, but tantra. Sublime.

He moved inside her as she rolled her hips, sweat slicking their skin. She laved along his shoulder to his ear, tasting the salty mingling of them. She took the lobe of his ear between her teeth and tugged, nipped. He thrust deeper again and again, so fully inside her he touched her womb. Desire gathered in her belly, spreading, and she bit back a groan, fiercely, fighting the urge to come and come hard now.

Her head flung back and she stared up at the ceiling with its swirled mosaics, trying to hold on by distracting herself with tiny tiles depicting… what? She couldn’t think.

He cupped her face and brought her to him. Looking directly in her eyes. Connecting with her in a way that was far beyond sex. Just like the first time she saw him.

Pleasure slammed through her, pulsing outward with a force so strong she cried out. In a smooth sweep he shifted her onto her back and loomed over her, staying inside her, pumping, drawing out her orgasm until her spine arched off the mattress. Her fingers twisted in the sheets to keep from clawing at him as wave after wave crashed through her.

But she forced her eyes to stay open, to watch him, to bring him with her, not to lose any of their time together. And seeing the intensity of his release, the pulse throbbing in his temple, the flush heating his skin only drew out her release.

The power of it all was so strangely energizing and depleting. She’d given up trying to understand why it was this way between them. His arms gave out and he collapsed on top of her. His breath was hot against her neck, their skin sealed together with sweat.

So in tune with him right now, she could feel him drifting off to sleep, truly asleep, not some micronap on a plane. One of the very rare times, Jose was completely out of it, not simply dozing with an ear fine-tuned to stay on watch.

Her fingers trailed along his back as she turned her head to look out their fourth story window at the harbor leading to the Indian Ocean. For tonight, she would watch over Jose because tomorrow was completely out of her control.

***

Jose dreamed of guava jam and Stella. Of their bodies tangled up together months ago on a picnic blanket in a private cove by the Shebelle River in one of the most fertile places in all of Somalia. He’d planned the safari-esque escape, minus the hunting, because hell, they got more than enough time with guns on the job. Their time together, eating lunch off of each other’s bodies, had nothing to do with work and everything to do with playful sex.

The lush landscape along the Shebelle offered a stark contrast to the scrub brush and cracked dry places of desperation elsewhere in the country. Their jobs were tough enough, brutal even at times. Their mutual time off was rare and finding places to be alone, to shed undercover personas to be themselves? Even rarer. He wanted to show her life at its best when he could.

Except he couldn’t escape the feeling that they were transitioning into something… intense. Being with Stella was different. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize that their connection was different. Unique. And that had his heart pounding heavier in his chest with a sense that what little time they had together could be racing full-out toward a gut-wrenching crash.

Shit.

He pulled his focus back onto the indomitable woman at his side and thumbed a droplet of perspiration from her forehead. Lime and banana tree leaves rustled overhead but offered minimal shade against the harsh African sun. Her freckled skin started to redden, matching the pink-backed pelican wading along the bank. He tugged a generous edge of the picnic blanket over her body. The handwoven cloth swept around in bright splashes of green and red.

She brushed his hand aside, laughing. “It’s no use covering me up. I’ll be sunburned all over, but it’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.” She stroked down his side to his left buttock with the two green footprints tattooed in honor of the early PJs who’d been picked up by a helicopter called the Jolly Green Giant. “And I do enjoy checking out your all over tan.”

Ethnicity wasn’t something he thought of other than when time came to fill out forms and check the box. He was a U.S. citizen, wore the uniform. But he did have a heritage he was proud of, a grandma who’d put her life on hold to help them out when times got particularly tough with his mother. “My paternal grandmother was born in Cuba. Jose was her father’s name and my dad’s name.”

“Sounds like perhaps your grandmother was more of a maternal influence than your mom.”

“She tried until her health gave out.”

“Health?”

“She had diabetes, but she put her needs on the back burner to help out when my mother tried rehab… Then Gran was too sick.” He’d wanted to be there for her the way she’d been there for him, but he was a kid without a driver’s license. He’d jogged to her nursing home eight miles away on weekends when the weather permitted.

The breeze off the Shebelle cooled his skin and hopefully hers too. He was doing his damnedest to romance her, and certainly their dating had been unusual, exotic. But what happened when they returned to real life?

The everyday Jose was a recovering alcoholic with a family so dysfunctional they could eat up a whole season on some Jerry Springer type show. He didn’t want to lose Stella, but he didn’t know how to keep her. Here, in Africa, their time together was all fueled by adrenaline—sneaking off when she returned from some covert op in a nearby village to ferret out human intel on local radicals. Or after he got back from a mission on the ocean rescuing vacationers from the never-ending flow of pirate attacks.

When he saw Stella, they were either hyped up on the adrenaline of victory or if the mission hadn’t gone well, then they came together with an edge of frustration.

Stella smiled up at him, her nose red from the sun. “When we get back home, it’ll be a lot easier to grab sunscreen from a nearby drug store. Not that I’m complaining about the picnic, mind you, I have a permanent love of guava jam.” She rolled to her stomach and kissed his chin. “I have a permanent love for you.”

She was saying exactly what he wanted to hear. She’d said it before.

And every time it sliced him to ribbons inside. “Stella, I love you too.”