Special Ops Exclusive (8 page)

An incredulous laugh popped out. “And you’re not? You’re Secretary Barrett’s son, for Pete’s sake.”

He sighed. “Touché.”

“Look, you can keep putting up a fight, or you can just make it easy for yourself and accept that we’re in this together from this point on.”

There was no mistaking the reluctance creasing his handsome features, but after several seconds of silence, he finally capitulated. “Fine,” he muttered. “You can come with me—”

She beamed at him. “Thank you. I knew you’d see it my—”

“—on two conditions,” he finished.

Wary, she waited for him to go on.

“First condition, you follow my orders. If I say jump, you jump. If I ask you to stay behind the way I did tonight, accept that it’s for a good reason and don’t fight me every step of the way.”

Although she hated answering to anyone, she shot him a grudging look and said, “I will follow your orders.” She paused. “Within reason.”

“There you go, being difficult again.”

She grinned. “Hey, I’m just sayin’. You can’t expect me to follow you blindly. If I disagree with an order, we’re darn well going to talk it out.”

“You’re a big fan of talking, huh?” He looked torn between laughing and strangling her.

“Yep. Now, what’s the second condition?”

“Anything we might discover, every lead we stumble on, every gory detail—it’s all off the record.” His expression turned steely. “When this is over, we’ll sit down and discuss the best way to get the story out. Before that, you don’t write anything down, you don’t put it on camera, you don’t consult with your network. Deal?”

She had to admit that sounded fair. It wasn’t like he was suggesting she sweep everything under the rug and pretend there
wasn’t
a story, just that she ought to wait before making anything public.

Which kind of irked, because what did he take her for, an amateur? She would never go ahead with a story until every last
t
and
i
was crossed and dotted.

Nevertheless, she stuck out her hand so they could shake on it. “Deal,” she agreed.

The second their palms touched, a jolt of electricity coursed from his hand to hers.

Actual sparks heated her skin, and he must have felt them, too, because he abruptly withdrew his hand and muttered, “Huh.”

Rebecca gave him a knowing look, enjoying the tiny glimmer of heat that lit his eyes. “So when do we leave?” she asked brightly.

* * *

She wasn’t expecting them to get a flight out of Mala so ridiculously fast, and yet three hours after Nick returned from his meeting with Salazar, the two of them were climbing into the back of a twin-engine Cessna in the most derelict hangar Rebecca had ever seen.

The scent of jet fuel, exhaust and rubber permeated the small cabin, and the blue vinyl seat she lowered herself onto was torn in several places. Their pilot, a stone-faced man with a head of long, oily black hair, didn’t say a single word as he went through his preflight check.

Rebecca scooted closer to Nick and brought her lips right up to his ear. “How do you know this guy again?” she whispered. “Are you sure he won’t murder us before we even get off the ground?”

Nick responded with a soft chuckle. “Relax, Red. Manuel is the most harmless man on the planet. He used to be a priest.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Did you just call me
Red?
”

“Yeah.” To her amusement, he actually flushed. “You didn’t seem too thrilled with
darling.
”

“Says who?”

“Says the way you called me that earlier, all mocking like and whatnot.” He offered an adorable shrug, then buckled his seat belt. “So Red, it is.”

“I don’t mind darling.”

The admission slipped out before she could stop it. Shockingly, she felt herself blushing, too. Oh, for God’s sake, what was she, a preteen with a first crush? She really needed to get a handle on her strange reaction to this man.

“Good to know,” he murmured, and then their eyes locked, and Rebecca’s heart did an excited little flip that made her want to make fun of herself.

“So...our pilot was a priest?” she said, quickly steering the conversation back to safe territory. “What happened? Did he lose his faith?”

“Something like that,” Nick answered. “But there’s no need to worry—he’s a good pilot, and trustworthy. We’ve used him a couple of times over this past year.”

At that moment, their priest-turned-pilot slid into the cockpit and started flicking knobs and buttons. The dashboard came alive with a multitude of lights, and then Manuel glanced over his shoulder and addressed Nick.

“Forecast calls for heavy cloud coverage,” he said in Spanish. “Might be some turbulence, so it could get bumpy.”

Rebecca’s stomach churned at the thought. “Gosh, I hate turbulence.”

“You speak Spanish?” Nick said wryly.

“Yep. And French. Russian. Hebrew. Passable Italian and Farsi. Not-so-passable Chinese.”

Nick let out a soft whistle. “We’ve got ourselves a real linguist here.”

“I travel a lot. I’ve picked up a few languages over the years.”

A metallic whine reverberated in the cabin, followed by the roar of the propellers coming alive, and a moment later, the little plane chugged forward. They taxied out of the hangar and into the pitch-black night, taking flight less than two minutes later.

As the Cessna rose higher and higher into the dark sky, Rebecca glanced at the back of Manuel’s head, then shot Nick a sidelong look. “How exactly did you convince our pilot to leave his bed at one in the morning and fly us to Costa Rica?”

“Money. Lots of money.”

“Pays to be rich, huh?” she said glibly. “I bet you single-handedly bankrolled everything this past year.”

“Yep.”

“And your soldier buddies never asked where the money came from? You said they don’t know about your family, so how did you explain all the cash?”

“I didn’t, not really, anyway. I told them my family has some money, and they were satisfied with that. They didn’t ask any other questions, which isn’t much of a surprise, actually. We’re private men, all three of us. We don’t do too much talking about the past.” He sighed. “Eva and Julia have been bugging me about it lately, though.”

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “Eva and Julia?” she echoed, and damned if she didn’t experience a little pang of displeasure.

Who the heck were Eva and Julia?

Had Nick somehow managed to date not one, but
two
women during his year of hiding?

She didn’t know whether to be impressed or ticked off at that.

“Eva is Tate’s fiancée, and Julia is Sebastian’s girlfriend.”

The green-eyed monster swiftly retreated to the dungeon of jealousy in Rebecca’s belly. Jeez. Why had she reacted so viscerally to the idea of Nick having some kind of harem?

Because you want him for yourself.

Yep, she did. She totally did. Then again, how could she not? The man was drop-dead gorgeous and his body was utterly droolworthy. Lord, she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers over every hard ridge of muscle and sinew. To nuzzle the crook of that strong neck and breathe in the woodsy, masculine scent of him. To feel those sensual lips pressed against her own, his tongue sliding into her mouth while his hands tangled in her hair.

The naughty images sent a shiver dancing through her.

“You cold?”

In the blink of an eye, Nick removed his bomber jacket and was draping it over her torso like a blanket.

Rebecca stared at him in wonder. “You really are the consummate gentleman, aren’t you, Nick?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Your girlfriend back home must miss you a ton.”

He burst out laughing. “Is that your incredibly
un
subtle way of asking me if I’m single?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He laughed again, a deep, sexy sound that had her shivering again beneath the warmth of his coat. “Well, I am,” he said. “Single, that is.”

Rebecca shot him a pointed look, then waited.

Nick furrowed his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me if
I’m
single?”

“Of course you’re single.”

The speed and conviction of his response made her frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re ambitious. I bet your career has come first your entire life, and relationships have always been somewhere on the back burner.” When she didn’t answer, he cocked his head in challenge. “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong,” she admitted. “My career is important to me. I was never that little girl who fantasized about meeting her Prince Charming and then baking cookies all day long while he brought home the bacon. I was daydreaming about Pulitzers and fame and shedding light on the injustices of the world.” She paused. “Not necessarily in that order, of course.”

He chuckled. “And you achieved two out of the three, with the Pulitzer sure to follow. I imagine your parents are very proud of you.”

“They are. My mom still doesn’t quite understand the career thing, though. She’s the ultimate Southern belle, spoiled rotten but with the biggest heart on the planet.”

“And your dad?”

“More progressive than Mom. He’s a criminal lawyer in Atlanta, and he desperately wanted me to go to law school and join his firm so we could practice together.” She grinned. “I’ve assured him that he can represent me should I ever get in trouble—you know, if I wind up in jail for protecting a source or something.”

“You mean that hasn’t happened to you yet?” Nick teased. “Shocking. You seem like a total troublemaker.”

“Maybe to some extent,” she said impishly. “So, what about you? Why did you join the army?”

“I wanted to serve and protect my country.” He wrinkled his forehead when he noticed her expression. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“Because your father is Kirk Barrett.
Barrett.
As in, big oil.”

“Yeah, so?”

“And your mother was a Prescott. As in, the hotel empire Prescotts.”

“Yeah, so?” he repeated.

“So you’re loaded,” she said in exasperation. “You could be spending your life drinking piña coladas on some yacht, traveling the world and suntanning and doing nothing but counting your big stack of cash. But instead, you chose to serve in the military. Special Forces, to boot, where the risk of dying is, like, astronomical.”

“I wasn’t raised to sit idle,” he replied with a shrug. “Even if I chose not to go into the army, I wouldn’t have been lounging on a yacht. My father instilled a solid work ethic in me and Viv.”

“Viv...right, your sister, Vivian.” Rebecca scanned her brain, but she couldn’t summon too many details about Nick’s older sister. “What does she do for a living again?”

“She used to be a teacher, but now she’s a stay-at-home mom. Her husband, Jeff, designs airplanes.” A sad look crossed Nick’s eyes. “I haven’t seen my nieces and nephew in a year. They’re probably unrecognizable by now. Kids grow up so damn fast, you know?”

She impulsively reached out and touched his hand. “It must be hard for you, being away from your family.”

“It is.”

He spoke absently, and she noticed his gaze was focused on their joined hands.

Her own gaze followed suit, and unable to stop herself, Rebecca stroked his rough-skinned knuckles. Lord, he had such big hands, such long, graceful fingers. Strange to think that he’d chosen to hold a weapon in those hands rather than some monogrammed pen he could sign multimillion-dollar contracts with.

When she’d worked the White House beat, she hadn’t given much thought to the Barrett family, but she’d always assumed that Nick Barrett would be a spoiled, superficial pretty boy who coasted through life on his father’s wealth and accomplishments.

But there was nothing superficial about this man. He was so very...
real.
Strong. Genuine.

Gentlemanly.

There it was again, the G-word. But she couldn’t help ascribing it to this man. Nick Barrett really was a bona fide gentleman.

Truth was, she hadn’t been in the company of many gentlemen. Half the men in Washington were snakes, including the ones who worked at ABN. And for some foolish reason, she’d always been drawn to the bad boys, the men every woman wanted to tame, the ones who ended up being total jerks.

Chivalry wasn’t sexy—or at least she hadn’t thought so until now.

Nick slowly moved her hand away and placed it back in her lap. The cabin went silent save for the mechanical whir of the plane’s engine and the soft hiss of the wind beyond the windows.

Their eyes locked again, and then Nick’s lips curved in a faint smile. “This isn’t going to happen, darling.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Meaning?”

“You and me.” As his gaze darted to the pilot five feet from them, he lowered his voice and clarified. “Sleeping together.”

A laugh slipped out of her mouth. Well, this was a first. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had gone out of his way to tell her he
wouldn’t
take her to bed. Usually, men were hitting on her left and right, eager to say they’d slept with ABN’s Rebecca Parker.

She found Nick’s lack of interest oddly refreshing.

And total bull.

“Oh, really?” She injected a teasing note into her voice. “So you’re saying that you’re not attracted to me?”

Nick let out a breath. “No, because I’d have to be a monk
not
to be attracted to you. What I’m saying is, I won’t sleep with you.”

“I see.”

“It’s nothing personal,” he added, looking and sounding awkward. “Like I said, the attraction is there, and I think sex with you would be off the charts, but I’m in the middle of a crazy situation right now and I can’t focus on anything other than fixing this mess. I’m also not the kind of man who does the whole casual-fling thing, so...” He trailed off, as if that said it all.

“I totally get where you’re coming from.” She pursed her lips. “There’s just one problem.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“I’m the kind of woman who wants what she can’t have.” She heaved out a mock sigh. “It’s my biggest flaw.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” His smile was brief, quickly replaced by a suspicious look. “Where exactly are you going with this, Rebecca?”