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Authors: Kaylea Cross

No Turning Back (27 page)

BOOK: No Turning Back
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No one would see. It would look like an accident.

Tehrazzi froze in place, waiting to see what he would do, using Assoud's distraction to retrieve the pistol hidden beneath his vest.

The fingers of Assoud's right hand flexed. He stretched out his arm. Brought it so close Tehrazzi could feel the warmth of his palm against his skin.

Their gazes locked. A heartbeat passed. Then two. Tehrazzi let him see that there was no fear in him, no realization of Assoud's intention as he stared back. Just eerie stillness and a building rage.

Perhaps something in his eyes held Assoud back, because he withdrew his arm and made it look as though he'd been about to offer a supporting hand. Tehrazzi concealed his weapon, and they resumed their climb.

Once they reached the top, they both stood breathing heavily. In the darkness, the valley spread out before them, a vast sea of snow-covered dust and rock. Barren. Desolate. A faint breeze picked up, swirling snow up around their legs. Nothing moved on the hillside below them. No sound disturbed the silence except their mingled breathing and the thudding of Tehrazzi's heart as he prepared to do what must be done. Assoud had sealed his fate long before what had just passed between them on the mountain.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

Assoud whipped his head around, eyes widening when he saw the nine-millimeter SIG Sauer aimed at his head. “No— ”

“You have become too unstable, too unpredictable, and I no longer trust that you will wait for my orders to kill the woman. I cannot have you jeopardizing my operations.”

Assoud pulled his lips back in a sneer. “You are weak,” he spat. “I should have gone after Hutchinson myself.”

“You would have failed. My teacher is far more lethal than you will ever be.”

He laughed bitterly. “You think you can kill him yourself? That you can do away with me, and him, when you couldn't kill any of the others?”

“Yes.”

“You
need
me.”

“Not anymore.”

Tehrazzi watched the knowledge of impending death dawn in his victim's eyes. His bodyguard must die, and he had to do the killing. It was his responsibility. Like a farmer putting a favorite herding dog down because he'd gone rabid.

He curled the fingers of his right hand tight around the grip of the automatic pistol and maintained his aim, precisely in the center of his former bodyguard's forehead. Through the falling snowflakes, an expression of disbelief entered Assoud's eyes, a mere flicker in the black pits. Tehrazzi's index finger tightened around the trigger.

Assoud pivoted to flee.

Tracking him with the pistol, Tehrazzi held steady when Assoud gathered himself and leapt to his left. He caught only the blur of movement as Assoud's arm shot upward, felt the slight whir in the air and instinctively ducked as he pulled the trigger. A sharp crack rent the air. As the gun retracted in Tehrazzi's hand and the barrel recoiled, something hit him hard in the belly. It drove deep with a blaze of fire.

Pain arced through his organs. He gasped and hit the ground with his knees, doubling over. His hands came to rest on something protruding from his abdomen. His eyes traveled down his chest to the black knife handle sticking out of him. A wash of scarlet stained his once-white robes. The pain was hot and vicious, stealing his breath. He raised his head.

Assoud was struggling to his feet, cradling his right shoulder. The fingers of his left hand were stained with blood, dripping from the bullet wound to the snow beneath him. Their eyes locked. Assoud coiled to strike, springing forward with his powerful legs to dive at him. Tehrazzi clenched his hand—

The gun was gone.

He glanced down. There. Beside his foot. He pushed past the agony to bend and snatch it up, gritting his teeth against a cry of rage and pain. He raised it. Pulled the trigger an instant before Assoud's weight smashed into him, sending him flying backward. The impact of their bodies drove the knife deeper still. Tehrazzi screamed and grabbed at the blade, wanting to yank it out, but even through his suffering his will stopped him. If he pulled it, he would hemorrhage and die. His only chance was to leave it in, no matter if it felt as though a flaming torch was thrust into his insides, and find medical help. But to survive, he must kill Assoud first.

Sending up a prayer, he forced himself to go limp as the heavy weight lifted off him, hoping for that one instant of hesitation in his opponent to think he might be dead or unconscious. Then he would strike to kill.

Assoud's breathing was choppy when he pulled back. A mix of warm, iron-tinged blood and bitter cordite filled the cold mountain air. Scents from Tehrazzi's childhood in these same mountains another lifetime ago.

“You are dying,” Assoud sneered, boots scraping on the rocks as he climbed to his feet. Tehrazzi slit his eyes open to stare up at the man towering over him. “I know where the Americans are, and while I hunt and kill them, you will lie here and bleed on the soil of your precious ancestors knowing Allah has chosen
me
.” He raised his foot.

The sole of the black boot poised over Tehrazzi's wrist, inches from the still-loaded pistol. Like the braggart he was, Assoud waited a moment to savor what he considered to be his victory.

Tehrazzi let his eyes open, showing his contempt as he met that hateful smirk, then snatched the gun in his cold fingers and jerked it up for the killing shot. He fired as the boot hurtled down at his wrist. The shot exploded.

Assoud screamed, his body arcing backward, giving Tehrazzi enough time to struggle to his knees and level another shot. But his victim rolled and flipped to his feet, bleeding from the side of his head where most of his left ear was missing. He shook his head like a wet dog, spraying blood, and charged at him.

Before he could get another shot off, Assoud hit him in the chest with a well-aimed kick that sent him tumbling down, skidding across the slippery bits of shale toward the edge of the precipice. Tehrazzi threw out a hand and caught the edge of a boulder to stop his momentum. The pain in his abdomen was making him light-headed. He could barely feel his lower body now. Already he was beginning to notice the chill of blood loss.

He might be dying, but he was not going to let Assoud live. Gathering his waning strength, he braced himself for the next blow, fighting to bring his arm up to fire another shot.

Assoud roared and kicked him again, catching him in the shoulder. Tehrazzi spun toward the edge. God would not forsake him. “Allah-u-aqbar,” he whispered hoarsely, twisting as he fell.
God is great
.

Aimed at his killer's heart, the gun went off, kicking in Tehrazzi's hand as he fell over the edge into oblivion.

Back at the command post, Sam jerked awake in complete darkness with her heart tripping. She was surprised she'd fallen asleep at all, but what had woken her?

Strong arms tightened around her ribs.

Ben.

“'S only the wind,” he murmured, tucking her in close.

She stared toward the flap at the cave's mouth, willing her heart to slow down.
I'm safe. Ben's got me.
She pulled in a deep breath of cool air. God, he felt fantastic up against her like this— her own blast furnace against the cold. He'd zipped their sleeping bags together when he'd crawled in beside her sometime after midnight, and hadn't let her go since.

What time was it? It wasn't pitch black anymore. They were alone, so the others must still be out doing more surveillance. The faint impression of light came in through the edges of the blanket at the cave's entrance. Had to be close to dawn. That gave her only a couple of hours at most to be alone with Ben. Or to see him at all, if they found the hostage location.

Because he might not come back from the op.

Stop. It.
Sam squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to keep that voice in her head quiet. Her ears perked up, trying to make out anything other than the wind. Was anyone out there?

Then Ben started nuzzling the back of her neck and she was glad. She needed the distraction, anything to keep her from thinking about her cousin and the murders.

Against her nape, Ben's lips were warm and soft, moving so slowly she forgot everything else. Her eyes drifted closed, all her attention now focused on the feel of his lips trailing over her skin, leaving goose bumps. She wanted him, and it didn't matter they were in a cave out in the middle of hostile enemy territory in the tribal region of Afghanistan. It didn't matter if he hadn't said “I love you.” Didn't even matter that the others might be close by. All that mattered was that Ben was safe lying wrapped around her and he wanted her.

He shifted his hips closer, pressing the rock hard length of his morning arousal against her buttocks. She pushed back with a sigh, already melting inside. With a little hum she tipped her head back, giving him better access to the side of her throat, rolling a bit so the hand he had tucked under her ribcage could come up to cradle her breast through the jacket. She squirmed, trying to get closer to that hand.

Answering her unspoken demand, Ben pulled the sleeping bag up higher to shield them from the cold air and slid his hand under the bottom of her jacket, beneath the sweater and Gore-Tex underwear layers to her bare skin. His fingertips smoothed over her stomach to her waist, traced up her spine and then back down, over the rise of her hip and thigh, slid down to her knee and back up the inside of her legs, brushing between them for an instant before stealing underneath her jacket again. God, he knew exactly how to touch her. She moved and stretched like a pampered kitten, eating up the trails of heat his fingers left behind, basking in the care he took to arouse her so thoroughly.

So slowly she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning, he eased his hand up until the pads of his fingers brushed the lower slope of her left breast, toying there a minute before lightly skimming up over her distended nipple. She sucked in a quick gasp, the heat of arousal pounding through her. She wanted him inside her, as deep as she could get him. But when she tried to roll to face him, he threw a leg over hers and tightened his arm, pinning her in place.

“Like this,” he whispered against her shoulder. “Want to hold you like this.”

He could do whatever he wanted with her. She sighed and stretched out, enjoying his languorous exploration too much to argue. She loved being spooned up in the cradle of his body, loved lying here enjoying herself while he lavished pleasure on her. She only wished it could be happening in her bed back home in Virginia.

Ben's knowing fingers swept over her nipple, gently squeezed and tugged until she groaned and pushed back, begging for more. He nipped a tendon at the back of her neck. “Shh. Sound carries a long way up here.” He began rubbing his hips against her in a slow rhythm calibrated to make her crazy.

Sam reached around and dug her fingers into his ass. “Stop teasing,” she whispered, breath uneven.

“Haven't even started, sweetheart.” To prove it, he removed his leg and used it to push her top one forward, sliding all the way forward until his erection pressed between her cheeks and his thigh was snuggled against her throbbing core. Her breath fragmented, but she remained still, dying to know what he'd do next.

The hand toying with her sensitized nipple left despite her moan of protest and ventured down her stomach to the waistband of her pants. She went to undo the fastening but he pushed her hand away and made leisurely work of getting the button undone and the zipper down. His fingers dipped low over her abdomen and brushed over her panties. Her legs parted eagerly but he ignored that too, and pulled her cargo pants and underwear down over her hips and thighs, leaving them wadded at her knees. Then she felt him moving behind her, undoing his own pants, shoving them down, heard the sound of a condom wrapper being torn open.

Oh, thank
God...

The stroke of his fingers over her bare hip made her breath catch. They moved up to the top and down over the flat plane of her pelvic cradle, into the tangle of hair between her legs. She was so wet already, she wanted him inside her
now
. She grabbed for him but he held her in place with a low sound of negation. Sam huffed out an impatient breath. He chuckled against her hair.

“Slow this time,” he whispered. “So slow... ” As his fingers played with her, touching her everywhere but where she needed it most, she couldn't help but writhe and whimper in his grasp. Finally, he stroked gently over her throbbing flesh and she bit back a cry, spine arching, slick and desperate for him. Ben hummed in approval and kept caressing, his erection hot against her naked buttocks.

Just when she thought she'd go mad, he fitted himself against her. She groaned in relief and pressed backward, only to have him stop her with a firm hold on her hip. He pushed the head of himself in and stayed there, fingers searching out her damp heat. Gasping, she wiggled back, trying to push him deeper. He wouldn't budge as he nuzzled her nape, then pressed a warm, tender kiss there. She swallowed, trembling in his arms, ready to beg.

“Give me control, Sam.” His voice was yet another layer of sensation on her body, a velvet caress on hypersensitive nerve endings. “Let me make it good for you.”

Good? Already way past good— she was half-crazy. Her breath came on a pant and left in a shivery wheeze as she clung to her control, trying not to cry out so everyone in the camp could hear. Then he pulled out, and she couldn't stop the whimper of distress that tore out of her, or the way she grabbed at him.

In reply he pushed forward again, lodging the head inside her and then retreating, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. Over and over, and all the while his fingers swirled over her most sensitive spot. Sam gripped the fistfuls of sleeping bag she held, fighting to move toward him, shove him further inside, but the pants tangled around her legs kept her immobile, restricting her movement. She could barely manage a wiggle, let alone part her legs like she needed to.

In and out, in and out Ben slid in a lazy rhythm, his fingers moving patiently, the other hand slipping around from beneath her to steal under her jacket and go after her right breast and nipple.

BOOK: No Turning Back
13.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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