Falling Hard Page 3

“Neutralized?” she asked at the same time.

  Josiah spared them both a glance before returning to informal guard duty. “As soon as this one doesn’t check in or the other one wakes up—”

  “Wait, you didn’t kill his partner?” Sweet damn. Now there was a mistake. She valued life and worked hard to save everyone that passed through the clinic, but this was not a place where you could silence a military officer and expect to live.

  “—we’ll have guards up our ass if we don’t get moving.”

  Josiah had a point there. Only a stupid person would argue when they should be running, and she was not stupid. “This time I’ll agree.”

  If West’s eyebrow lifted any farther it would hit his hairline. “You don’t get a choice. Besides, you have enough problems without causing more.”

  She stopped in mid-stride on the way to her overturned desk and shot West a glare. Caught him staring at her ass. “Meaning?”

  Josiah groaned. “Children—”

  “You shouldn’t be here. You have unverified identity, questionable intel, and bodies scattered across the floor.” West ticked off her alleged sins. “You could be friend or foe, and we won’t know until we interrogate you.”

  He used that word on purpose. To terrorize her. She’d bet on it. “I think I want the gun back.”

  “In that case I’m thinking I should frisk you for other weapons.” West managed to deliver the line without sounding threatening. Didn’t move a muscle either.

  But the more he morphed into superwarrior, the less compelling she found him . . . or that’s what she tried to tell herself. That should have been the case, but something about the tone, the command, worked for her. Damn him.

  Still, no way was she getting felt up in the middle of a crime scene. “Touch me and I bite off your hand.”

  After a second he nodded. “Fair enough.”

  When she blinked again Josiah stood between her and West. Probably a smart move.

  Josiah touched his watch as he talked with West. “You take Dr. Palmer—”

  “Ms.” No need to let that misconception linger on too long. This happened to be a touchy subject for her.

  “So, not just ‘sort of a doctor,’ you’re actually not a doctor at all. Looks like we found something else we need to talk about.” West’s dry tone didn’t exactly hide his frustration. He may as well have said, She’s working on my nerves, and been done with it.

  She wasn’t offended because that grumbly sensation deep in her belly hadn’t eased since she watched him fly across the room to nail the guard to the wall. “Fine, but I have a few questions for you as well.”

  Josiah talked right over both of them. “Lexi, take only what you absolutely need because the point is to make it look like a normal night.”

  Hearing her name with the accent threw her for a second but she quickly got back on track. “Right.”

  A mental list came together as she conducted a visual search of the room. She needed the usual, like her bag, but the jump drive mattered most. She didn’t need to hunt that down because she’d tucked it into her pocket when the bullets started flying.

  “I’ll stay behind and clean up the scene,” Josiah said. “We’ll rendezvous in fifteen at the planned spot.”

  That grabbed her attention as much as the touch of West’s hand on her elbow. She blocked the odd sensation spinning through her as her gaze bounced between the two men. “Which is where?”

  West shook his head. “You don’t need to know right now.”

  He didn’t pull or grab, but he brought her in closer to his side before she could put on the brakes or jerk away. She stared at his hands. Long fingers. Tan. Calluses. Workingman’s hands.

  “So that you’re clear.” She glared at his hand, trying to send a message. “I hate that in a guy.”

  “What?”

  “Bossiness.”

  West flashed her an actual smile. Not a half. Not a smirk. “Then the next few hours are really going to suck for you.”

  3

  GETTING LEXI out of the clinic took another three minutes. Minutes West wasn’t convinced they had, but she’d insisted on grabbing a few things. Since one item turned out to be a medical kit and the chance they’d need one of those grew with every passing second, he gave in without too much bitching.

  But then the talking started. Sure, she kept the unending stream of chatter to a whisper as they walked, but still. A man needed peace every now and then, and he craved silence more than most.

  Ducking behind trees and keeping her shielded half behind him, West guided her through the open area to a line of houses. Darkness had fallen and the cold wind turned frigid. She’d grabbed a jacket but her teeth still clicked together.

  The wicking material of his shirt helped, but the thin jacket could only block so much. Still, he’d dealt with freezing temperatures before. The bone-chilling cold this time came as much from memories of his last stay in the region as from reality.

  They slipped through a gate and into a rough courtyard. Two rows of guest houses faced each other. He knew from the operation briefing that the mountaineering crowd used these. The rooms looked as if they’d been patterned after inexpensive motel rooms in the U.S., rotating door then window then door again.

  Equipment balanced against the outer walls near the doors. Ice axes and trekking poles. Water bottles sat on plastic chairs scattered around the grassy area. Someone had set up a yellow dome tent in the center of the makeshift common yard.

  The place was small and practical, and not the set meeting place. He grunted as he nodded in the direction he wanted them to go. Straight through to the opposite end.

  “Where are we—”

  “Quiet.” He slipped his fingers through hers and gave them a gentle squeeze.

  Before she could complain or yell at him, he pulled her through the night. Stepped over discarded gear and across the uneven turf that served as the lawn as he picked up speed. Kept going until they reached the end of the row and turned right toward a separate building set back from the rest. The manager’s office for the guest houses. The meeting place sat behind the office.

  They’d slipped around the side of the office before she began to launch into a new conversation. “If you would listen to—”

  He pulled her to a stop and pressed her back against the far corner of the building away from the road into the property and just outside the bright circle of the security light. Even with limited illumination, this close he could stare into her eyes.

  Her chest rose and fell on hard breaths as her hands rested against his forearms. Soft breaths blew across his chin.

  Well, this position was a big fucking mistake.

  “What are you doing? Why are we stopping here?” The words sounded labored, as if she struggled to get them out.

  He didn’t want to scare her, but shaking some sense into her quickly moved up his To Do list. “I’m thinking you’re confused by the definition of the word quiet.”

  She thumped a fist against his chest. When he didn’t move, a certain wariness fell over her. Narrowed eyes and lips in a thin line. “Are you always this difficult?”

  “Yes.” Better that she knew now. The next few hours would be rough for her. He’d keep her safe but he couldn’t promise she’d enjoy how he made that happen.

  “At least you’re honest.”

  Jesus, that mouth. Always moving and so fucking hot. A sudden kick of need to taste her hit him out of nowhere. “Uh-huh.”

  He shook his head to knock the stupid thoughts out. The intelligent eyes. The sharp comebacks. The way she walked, slow and lingering, with her hips rocking a gentle sway from side to side.

  Not that he noticed.

  “Could you—”

  He put a finger over those lips. “Wait.”

  Even on the verge of losing his mind, he heard it. The rumble of male voices hit him first. Low but there. Then the footsteps, crunching against the stones and not bothering to hide the trail straight to them. As th
e sounds drew closer, West pressed her tighter against the building, covering her body with his and ignoring the heated friction as they rubbed against each other.

  “What are you doing now?”

  That fast he clamped his palm over her mouth. Her cheeks heated under his hand as she pushed against his chest. When he put his finger to his lips, she stilled. She morphed from pissed to something else. Her nails dug into his skin through two layers of clothing and her eyes widened as her gaze locked on his face.

  He mouthed, It’s okay, and she nodded. Dropping his hand, he reached for his gun. With his body still pressed into hers and one hand balancing on the wall next to her head, he waited. Listened. Prepared to shoot then grab her and run like hell. He’d carry her if he had to.

  Seconds ticked by. The voices grew louder and his finger inched closer to the trigger. Taking down two wouldn’t be a hardship. The numbers didn’t faze him. But handling hostiles while guarding Lexi from stray bullets was a bigger concern.

  He widened his stance, covering as much of her body as possible with his. He’d slide off her and . . . but then the voices faded. He strained to hear the conversation. To pick up snippets. The footsteps retreated and the wind covered every sound except her heavy breathing.

  When a tremor ran through her and into him, he glanced down. One of her hands rested on his belt and the other clenched his hand, an inch away from his gun. Both were a problem. One needed to stop right now . . . but for some reason he mentioned the other one. “Don’t touch my gun.”

  “What?”

  “A man’s weapon is sacred.” True, but his mind flicked away from the small armory he carried and back to her. A smart-ass comeback caught in his throat. Something about what he wanted to do to her once they were somewhere safe.

  “I’m not touching that comment.” Her hands dropped to her sides and her back stayed pressed deeper into the wall. “Just don’t shoot everyone who crosses our path.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  She froze. “Try.”

  He shrugged even though the adrenaline pulsing through him called for him to do something else. “If they start it . . .”

  She treated him to one of those long and tortured sighs. “I know you’re big on death and all, but—”

  That shook him out of his poorly timed lust. “No, I’m not.”

  The sighing turned into a frown. “You’re also a bit of a pain in the ass about not letting me finish a sentence.”

  The woman had a point, but he refused to smile. Not while they were out in the open. He couldn’t afford to let her think the danger had passed. “Go ahead. Say whatever you want to say.”

  “You kill for a living.”

  He hit the brakes a second time. “I don’t.”

  “No?”

  An innocent sounding question but an insult nonetheless. He fought for a purpose. He had a debt to repay, and somehow he’d bank enough goodwill to extinguish it. “I’m not a fucking mercenary.”

  He expected her to back down. He barked, women cowered. The cycle rarely broke down on him. His size and tone combined and people made assumptions. He used them to his advantage.

  She eyed him up, letting her gaze wander over his body, over, around, and down. “You look like a former soldier.”

  He hated that description. “I’m a retired Marine.”

  “Aren’t we saying the same thing?”

  He bit back a string of profanity. “Not even close.”

  The whole checking-him-out thing continued for another few seconds before she folded her arms over her stomach and leaned into him. “I’m starting to think you like to argue.”

  Between the talking and the touching she had him spinning. “Not really.”

  “Was that supposed to be funny?”

  This woman was going to be the death of him. Rather than yell or order or knock her out and throw her over his shoulder—which was pretty damn tempting—he reached for the last bit of patience he could muster. “We need to get you to—”

  “I have a place.” She smiled at him. “Yeah, see? The interrupting thing is annoying, isn’t it?”

  No way was he answering that. “We have a set rendezvous site.”

  “You find it on a map, big guy?”

  He planted both hands against the wall and stared down at her. Maybe intimidation would work. God knew nothing else had with her. “Excuse me?”

  “Have you ever even been here? To Pakistan, let alone Skardu?” Instead of backing down she poked him in the chest. “Do you know anything about the people, the area? I happen to live here part of the year.”

  This is the kind of shit that happened when he got dragged into a conversation. But, big news, this was not a topic he planned to have with her now or ever. “Yes.”

  Her head snapped back and she swore when it smacked against the building. “What question are you answering?”

  Much more of this and she’d injure herself. He slid a hand under her head to keep that from happening. Soft hair fell over his fingers and he massaged the spot where she hit. “I’ve been here before.”

  “Don’t sigh at me.” Most of the heat had left her voice but the color in her cheeks brightened. “Wait, do you mean in Pakistan?”

  “Yes but also right here.”

  “Skardu?” She whispered the word.

  Yeah, that was enough of that. He slipped his hand out from behind her. “Can you move?”

  Anger flashed across her face again. “What kind of question is that?”

  She was so damned prickly. Talkative and sensitive and hot . . . Jesus. He exhaled, long and loud enough for her to know he was done with this. “A simple one.”

  He held out his hand, surprised when she threaded her fingers through his. Not that he intended to walk this way. They weren’t on a date. This was combat. But he needed her to follow his direction, and since telling her to do things didn’t work, he tried showing her.

  “What’s happening right now?” Her words stumbled but she didn’t shrink away from him.

  “Follow me.” He guided her hand to his back and hooked her fingers under his jacket on the top of his belt. “Preferably without all the whining.”

  “You’re wearing a vest?”

  He assumed she meant the Kevlar. “Of course.”

  “Should I have one?”

  He let the question sit there because she wouldn’t like the answer. Rather than batter him with a million more comments, she treated him to a few blissful minutes of quiet.

  Shortening his stride, he maneuvered them away from the building and through the overgrown yard separating the office from the shed on the other side of the fenced-in property. She stumbled into his back and he stopped until she regained her balance.

  He kept his hands free for his weapons and scanned the area as they moved. She walked so close to him, so tight against his back, she kicked the heel of his boot several times. Knowing she had to be scared, he ignored it. Pretended he didn’t feel it. Even the kick that had him wincing.

  The shed door opened without trouble. He’d conducted a quick surveillance. The lack of a lock made an out of the way property the place perfect for a rendezvous spot. He ushered her inside and sat her down on a stack of boxes. After a few seconds of hugging her bag to her chest she dropped it on the floor.

  The place reeked of fish, which explained the rod that poked into the side of his head. If there was a light, it was staying off. The only brightness came from the cracks in the wall where the security lights beamed in.

  She rubbed her hands together, blowing on them before tucking them under her armpits. “I should have picked Josiah. He’s smaller but seems nicer.”

  “Nice won’t keep you alive.”

  Some of the tension snapping between them decreased. West didn’t know if that was good or bad. With his luck, she’d fall asleep on him.

  “And you will?” she asked.

  Time for a little reassurance. Not his best skill.

  He lifted her chin u
ntil she stared up at him. “Yes, Lexi. I will.”

  And that was a fucking vow.

  She smiled then, a bit lopsided and not all that convincing, but at least she tried. “I like your confidence.”

  “Consider it a promise.”

  “But you don’t know what’s going to happen when the army finds the bodies or—”

  “You will stay alive.” He couldn’t let her mind wander to any other place. The could-be and what-if possibilities were pretty fucking awful. “I guarantee it.”

  “Oh.”

  He skimmed his thumb over her chin, then across her lips, watching her mouth drop open at his touch. His brain telegraphed message after message, telling him to back away, but his body refused the call.

  He had no idea how her skin stayed so soft or why her eyes grew so wide. Still, his thumb brushed over her . . . then he heard it. A slight change in the usual sounds of the night. Little more than a whisper.

  He’d fine-tuned his ability to pick up on discreet shifts during training and practiced the skill in weekly drills. He used it now, though he’d been a half step too late to get them out of the building before the person or people out there closed in.

  She stood up. “What is it?”

  “Someone’s here.” One person and someone with training. Not Josiah because he’d use their signal, but someone who knew how to circle and hide sounds. Just not well enough.

  “How can you know that?”

  “I should have picked up the cues before now.” When he realized his fingers still touched her cheek, he dropped his hand and reached for his gun. “You threw me off.”

  She made a face that consisted mostly of frowning, squinting, and doing this weird thing with her lips. “I’m not sure if the blame thing is flattering or annoying.”

  Talk about having the wrong priorities. “Me being off could get us killed.”

  Some of the color left her face. “Then I’m against you ever being off.”

  “Ms. Palmer, you need to come out.”

  West took in the accent and pegged the speaker as a local. That qualified as a pretty big problem. So was the fact that someone had managed to follow them. He had doubled back and covered tracks, so he knew they shouldn’t have company.