White Dawn: A Military Romantic Suspense Novel (17 page)

“Ruined what?”

“I’d just got back to hating you, as per
orders.”

“That’s what I like about you, Escobedo.
That pure Vistarian blood of yours. You blow hot and cold from one
moment to the next. Life is not dull with you in it.”

“And now you have me here, what are you
going to do with me?” she asked primly.

Garrett stepped closer once more. “I’ll
think of something,” he growled, his voice low, the way it turned
when he was aroused.

Carmen shivered.

It wasn’t just sex this time. Carmen couldn’t define
why it was different. It simply
was
.

She still felt the same aching need and
Garrett’s hands and mouth still felt as heavenly as the first time
he had used them on her. As he kissed his way along her body,
pausing to anoint her breasts and tease the nipples, she grasped
his head, trying to keep him there, to prolong the pleasure.

But he moved on, down to her belly and
she could see he was smiling as he worked. He liked to make her
squirm even though she denied hotly that she did anything so
inelegant, but the truth was, he made her wriggle and arch, moan
and scream, more than any other man. She always wanted more, no
matter how satiated he left her. Even when she was falling asleep,
drained from multiple orgasms, she wished she had the energy to
reach for him one more time.

His tongue flicker at her slit and she
moved restlessly as he paused, his mouth just above her mound.
“Garrett…” she breathed.

But he didn’t go any farther. Instead,
he drew himself over the top of her, his knee spreading her thighs,
giving him access to her pussy. He pushed inside and Carmen let out
a shuddering gasp. She would never grow tired of this moment, the
first thrust of his cock, but this was the first time he had ever
taken her missionary style. She had assumed he thought the
traditional way too staid and boring, but now he was claiming her
the old-fashioned way.

“Look at me,” Garrett said.

Carmen opened her eyes. He was holding
still above her and as she looked he leaned down and kissed her.
Then he began to stroke inside her, not hurrying, but not driving
her crazy with super slow torture, either. It was nice. Very
nice.

She relaxed her whole body, except for
her pussy that kept squeezing around him involuntarily. He could
thrust like that for as long as he wanted.

But she quickly realized that Garrett
was going to outlast her. She tried to squash the sweetness of her
quickly building orgasm. She tried to ignore the urgent ache. But
she couldn’t halt it. Garrett was going to make her come just from
this alone.

“Come for me,” he crooned as her hips
thrust, her clit kissing his pelvis.

She climaxed with a hoarse cry, her
muscles clenching and her heart stopping for one exquisite moment.
Garrett slid his tongue the length of her throat, to finish at her
up-turned chin. He pressed his lips to hers then came, choking off
his own groan, his cheek pressed against hers.

After the pleasure had dissipated,
Garrett lay back on the mattress and drew her to him, so that her
arm and leg were draped over him and her head was on his shoulder.
“You’re very tired,” he told her. “You just don’t know it yet. You
used up a lot of energy today.”

“And I slept all afternoon,” she
reminded him, then yawned hugely, her eyes widening. The yawn had
come from nowhere.

“Uh-huh,” he said flatly.

“Hate you,’ she murmured, running her
fingers idly over his shoulder. The tips bumped over one of the
white circled scars and she drew them back again, feeling the
slight depression it had left in his flesh.

“That one was a cigar,” he said
softly.

Horror spilled through her, but Carmen
fought not to react physically, or to show it in anyway. Hiding her
reaction was instinctive. She knew that if she responding strongly,
he would clam up again. She swallowed. She was wide awake now. She
slid her finger around the circular edge of the scar. “They used a
lit cigar on you?”

“The smaller ones were cigarettes.” His
voice was perfectly neutral, without a shred of emotion in it, but
she knew he was holding all the emotion back, just as she was.

She let her fingers drift up to his
face, to the white scar under his beard. “And this one? Cigar,
too?”

“A big, fat corona.” He paused. “It hurt
like crazy. It all hurt. But the only thing I could think of when
they used that one was that the stench was driving me mad.”

Carmen grit her teeth, to hold back her
moan of horror. Moving slowly, she pushed herself up on to one
elbow and looked down at him. His eyes were narrowed, as he stared
back into the past.

“And this one?” she asked, touching the
scar below his throat, the one that was visible inside his shirt
collars.

“That was a scrape, when they dragged me
across the floor. There was a piece of timber on the floor that
they pulled me over. They had been beating me with it. It got
caught under my chin and took off the top layer of skin.”

They had been dragging him face
down
.

Carmen bit her lip. She made herself
slide her fingers over to the jagged scar on his hip. “This was a
knife, wasn’t it?”

He nodded, his chin moving a fraction of
an inch.

“And your back?” she asked, although she
already knew. She didn’t know why she was making him catalogue
every wound, except that he had started it and her gut said she
should keep it going. But she didn’t want to. She felt a desperate
sort of anger mixing with her horror and sadness.

“The thicker ones are from a raw leather
strap, as stiff as a board. The thin ones…” He sighed. “One of them
had a riding crop.”

Before she could blink them away, tears
rose in her eyes and spilled. They were hot and made her eyes
ache.

Garrett turned his head to look at her.
“It was all over and done with, a long time ago,” he said.

“Not for you, it wasn’t,” she said,
wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She thought of the night
she had found him drinking alone in the dark. If ever there was a
man still struggling with demons it had been Garrett that night.
“You still live through it. Over and over.”

“Not since you came,” he said, his voice
soft.

That just made her cry harder. “Don’t
say that,” she said brokenly.

“Why not?” he asked reasonably.

“I’m nothing, Garrett. I’m the spoiled
only daughter of the former President. You’ve seen the press, I
know you have. I’m a walking cliché. Everything they say about rich
and famous peoples’ kids, that’s me.”

“It wasn’t a precocious brat who stole
her uncle’s yacht and came back to Vistaria.”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” Carmen
cried. She sat up completely. “There was nothing for me to do in
Acapulco. It wasn’t home. No one seemed to know what I could to do
to help. Minnie was going off on her grand adventure to find her
beloved Duardo, so I tagged along. I was ballast.” She wiped her
eyes again.

Garrett sat up, too. “You haven’t been
ballast since you walked into my camp. I know you haven’t once
asked yourself what the point of this is.”

Carmen hesitated, thinking back over the
last two months. He was right.

“Tell me what you think about when we’re
on missions,” he pressed.

She looked down at the sheet gathered
around her knees, thinking. “I don’t think,” she confessed. “If
anything, I get angry. When I see how desperate everyone’s lives
are. No food except what they can gather and grow for themselves,
barely any medicine, schools shut down on Insurrecto orders and the
sad, sad faces everywhere…I get pissed. Really pissed. My father
never let anyone bottom out like that.”

“Exactly,” Garrett said softly. “You’re
working to change that. There’s no doubt in your mind.”

“But I’m not doing
anything
,”
Carmen said. “I’m following your orders and most of the time what
we do seems…completely useless.”

“It all helps,” Garrett told her. “A
raid here and there distracts them and pulls resources away from
where they want them. Besides,
you
have made the biggest
difference, just in the last two weeks.”

She just looked at him
questioningly.

“The radio,” he said. “We wouldn’t be
hooked into the Loyalist network if you hadn’t nagged me into
buying Hernandez’s computer. Now, with their direction, we have a
chance of doing something that could make a real difference.”

Carmen plucked at the sheet. “I
suppose…” she said slowly.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Garrett
told her. “Wars tend to mess up everyone’s lives. You’re doing far
more than anyone has a right to expect of you, given the
circumstances you’ve found yourself in. And you’re good at it,
too.”

“I think that has more to do with the
training than anything else,” she muttered.

Garrett rolled his eyes. Then he dipped
his head and kissed her. It was a gentle touch of his lips. “Just
wait,” he told her. “Wait and trust that things will work out.”

“That’s not what you do,” she accused
him.

“I do, now,” he assured her.

He lay down again and pulled her back
into his arms, insisting she get some sleep and Carmen let him
insist. She didn’t think she would be able to sleep. She was too
wide awake now and too wired. Her brain was working overtime.

Garrett had hope now. That was what his
last comment meant. No one could wait and trust that things will
work out without hope, but when she had first met him, she would
have said Garrett was filled with ice cold anger and not much
else.

Why had he suddenly gained hope? The
radio? Communicating with Acapulco meant that whatever they did now
would have a direct effect on the Loyalist’s war efforts, but that
seemed too flimsy a thing to spawn hope. They still had no idea
what the Loyalists were planning. They were cogs in a much larger
machine.

So what had given Garrett hope?

It was the middle of the afternoon and the old house
was still and almost silent. It was a hot day, when the air was
thick and oppressive and there wasn’t even a whiff of a breeze.
Everyone who didn’t have critical responsibilities was sleeping…or
trying to.

Minnie didn’t want to sleep, though.
Duardo had appeared unexpectedly two hours ago and looked at his
watch. “I have twelve hours leave,
mi amor
,” he told her and
kissed her, right in front of Rubén and Téra. Minnie had closed her
computer, taken his hand and led him to their cramped bedroom.
Twelve hours was more spare time than Duardo had been granted in a
month or more. She didn’t demand details, because she knew Duardo
couldn’t give them, but she also knew that Duardo was assisting
General Flores now, taking more and more of his responsibilities
into his own hands.

She let out her breath, feeling a
bone-deep contentment. They were both naked and pleasantly sweaty.
Her heart was just starting to calm after the most delicious
climax. Duardo had his hand on her belly, which was just starting
to protrude, even when she was lying on her back like she was
now.

“That’s two sighs in five minutes,” he
said. “What is on your mind?”

“It’s…um, nothing.”

He smiled, his teeth flashing white in
the dim room. They had the drapes drawn against the harsh afternoon
sun and the bamboo fan was circling lazily overhead, moving the air
just enough to cool their moist skin. “Are you deliberately lying
badly?” he asked.

She shook her head and sat up, then
turned to face him on the bed and curled her feet underneath her.
“Sort of. I’m not sure how to handle this.”

Duardo just watched her, his eyes
narrowed.

Minnie looked down at her hand, resting
on her knee. “I know what a twelve hour furlough means,” she said
softly. “But I know you can’t talk about it.” She looked up at him.
“But
I
want to talk about it.”

He picked up her hand and brought it to
his mouth. “Who told you?” he asked gently.

“I’m living on top of the army, here. I
just picked it up. Talk and gossip. You know.”

Duardo shook his head. “If you found out
from idle chatter, then anyone could. I may have to change that
practice. Or change security around the issue of furloughs. It
wouldn’t help us to have half of Acapulco guess our military
movements from the scheduling of leave.”

“Schedule it after the mission, then,”
she told him. “Or make it a high security order. They get five
hours that they can spend with family and loved ones only. Or stay
in the camp. No exceptions.”

“Hmmm…” Duardo looked thoughtful.

“Then I am right?” Minnie asked
hesitantly. “You’re going somewhere to do something. Vistaria, I
presume.”

It was Duardo’s turn to sigh. “I can’t
tell you,
mi amor
. Yes, there’s something coming up, but
that’s all I can say.” He turned his head, his gaze cutting away
from her. “I didn’t want to tell you until my leave ended.”

Minnie smiled. “Hey, I’m an army wife
now. I have to deal with these things. Your mom probably had it
down pat, but she’s had practice.” She kept her tone light and as
unconcerned as she could. “When are you leaving?”

“In a few days, probably,” he said. “But
I will be gone from you once my leave is over. The preparations….”
He trailed off.

“I get it,” Minnie assured him softly.
“You get a break before you dive in to get the whole operation up
and running. So, three or four days of prep, then you’re gone.”

Duardo gave her a small smile. “You
understand,” he said and she could hear the gratitude in his voice.
He paused. “This is my first time, too,” he said softly.

“First time?”

“Leaving my wife behind…and my son.” His
glance dropped to her belly.