Hold on Tight (3 page)

“Let’s get into the bathroom to wait this thing out—no windows in there,” he said, just as the window close to his bed shook and then shattered, glass spraying everywhere.

And then Jamie was yanking him into the safety of the smaller room. He went off balance for a second, grabbed for the wall and nearly fell onto her. He was more fucked up from the pain meds than the actual pain and he hated that.

Seconds later the lights went out again.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” she was telling him as she eased him down to the floor. And as much as he liked hearing that, helplessness was something he did not do, at least not well. He jerked his body from hers, painfully aware that all he’d wanted earlier was for her to touch him and he blamed his irrationality on the past days’ events. On grief and stress and pain.

She pulled away and for a moment they sat in the dark, listening to the rumblings just outside the door, before she spoke again. “Look, about before … I was just—”

“Doing your job. I know the drill, Jamie.” He rubbed his forehead as the floor continued to shake, the vibrations going straight through his skull more effectively than a jackhammer. He wanted to close his eyes, to try to block it all out, but that wouldn’t happen. The second his eyes closed, he’d see the entire scene of what had transpired twenty-four hours before. “Fuck, I don’t want to be here.”

“I’m really sorry.” Her hand settled on his knee and he let it stay there.

“You were sorry the last time we were together in Africa too.”

She shifted in the dark so she was closer. “I’m sorry about what happened to you and your team. About what happened in Africa. God, I was so worried when I heard about this …”

“I’ve been worried about you too. I guess neither of us acted that way earlier.” No blame to his voice, not now, when she was seated close to him.

“Answering all my questions is for your own good, Chris. If I can dismiss this investigation as quickly as possible, you can get back to work.”

Back to work. That seemed like a long way down the list, after mourning Mark and the failed mission. “I’ve told you everything I know. It was mass confusion. Always is, no matter how hard you try to control the situation.”

“But you’re trained to see above the confusion.”

“You can’t see shit when you’re in it.” He shook his head. “I’m human, Jamie, even though my ability to snipe might make it seem otherwise.”

An explosion made the door rattle behind him, jogging his memory. “The door …”

“It’s all right.”

“No, not this door—that night I tried to get behind a door at the embassy. Josiah and I both did. It was locked.”

He rested his head against the wall. “Whatever was behind that door was what blew that building sky high.”

“You’re sure?”

“Shit like that doesn’t happen from RPGs.”

“Hand grenades?”

“Wouldn’t level an old stone, highly secured building. It took down a bomb-proof wall. No, there were explosives in that building already … like they’d planned it. Only they wanted us inside.”

Another explosion shook the hospital in short order—went on for much longer than any of the previous ones and made Jamie nearly hit the ceiling. Chris hadn’t fared much better, but her hand squeezed his biceps and hung on for dear life.

He brought his hand up to cover hers. “You okay?”

“I could never get used to this,” she breathed.

“My life stopped flashing before my eyes a long time ago,” he admitted.

“Wish I could say the same. And don’t give me any of that
fear is good
psychobabble.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t have fears.” He winced when another large boom shook the floor and the walls, rattling his teeth.

“They’re getting closer.” She peered out the door before turning back to him. “Maybe we should try to get downstairs.”

“Maybe not.” His hand trailed her cheek. She’d missed that touch, found her head tilting toward his and then—

“Chris, what the fuck?” Saint had burst through the bathroom door holding a flashlight and Jamie jumped again.

“Nice entrance, Rambo,” Chris drawled.

“Fuck off, Waldron. Agent Michaels, I thought we had an agreement.”

“I didn’t plan the assault so I could question him further.”

“Could we not talk about me like I’m not here?” Chris asked. He sounded tired, even to his own ears.

As soon as Jamie rose from the floor, he missed the contact of her body near his.

“You’re not allowed to leave the hospital until the shelling’s over and the base is secured,” Saint told her. “But you’re sure as hell not staying here with him. There’s a safe room set up down the hall for visitors.”

Chris wanted to argue, but knew it was no use. Instead, he pulled himself to standing in time to see the door slam. Jamie was gone. Again.

A knock on the door—quiet and firm—had her on her feet in seconds. She peered through the peephole, gun in hand, as was her habit when traveling alone on an investigation, and saw Chris. He’d stepped away from the door so she could actually see his face rather than just an eyeful of camouflage.

She threw the safety on the gun and flung the door open.

“What are you doing out of the hospital?”

“Running after you.”

“No one asked you to.”

“I’ve only got an hour.”

“That’s not my concern. Especially if you’re out against medical advice,” she told him, knowing full well none of this would make him leave.

Those eyes—one blue and one green, their colors made more vivid by the bruises that surrounded them—bore into her with an intensity that rocked her to the core. “What is your concern, Jamie? Because whatever it is, I want it to be me. Me on you—in you. I’ve missed hearing your moans in my ear, missed coming inside you.”

Her mouth dropped. Without thinking, without wanting to think, she grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him close, tipped her face up to meet his kiss.

He groaned, and she knew that was at least part pain, but he wasn’t pulling back, practically had her naked before she could close the door to the room.

Chris wouldn’t mind rolling around the hallway naked—rolling anywhere naked. The fact that he wanted to do so with her only made the ache between her legs intensify, until he put his hand there, stroked her quickly with two fingers until she stiffened, mouth opened to moan through an orgasm that took over her body. The intense spiral of pleasure made her knees buckle, and still she pushed her hips forward against his hand for more.

“So fast, Jamie … were you waiting for me all this time, wanting me?” His drawl was more pronounced now, a slow, easy slide down her body. The way he talked to her while she was naked in his arms gave her nearly as much pleasure as his hands; his tongue; his long, thick arousal he rubbed against her belly.

Her shiver gave him the answer he looked for. He chuckled lightly, his fingers still strumming her. Her nipples tingled and she resisted the urge to play with them herself.

She pulled her face away from where she’d buried it in his shoulder, realized they were still standing—she was holding him for dear life and he was pressed against the wall by the door. “You knew I was, or else you wouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t be so sure about that. I can be pretty persuasive either way.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes momentarily.

“You’re still in pain.” She stroked his cheek lightly, her bare breasts seeking relief in brushing the hard rub of his fatigues.

“Little bit.”

“Then maybe you should let me do all the work,” she murmured. He didn’t argue, not when she unzipped his fatigues and stroked him, just sucked in a hard breath and smiled—and oh, that smile …

His hands wandered over her breasts—finally—fingers playing with her taut nipples as she continued to caress his cock in her palm.

“Hurry, Jamie,” he said suddenly, his hands grabbing at her hips, urging her against him again. His arousal brushed her wet sex and yes, she was more than willing to hurry.

But this time, they weren’t on a downed plane in Africa, away from most forms of civilization, and her mind was clearer. Somewhat. “Protection. We need—”

He was staring at her, head cocked to the side while she spoke. And then he shook his head like he was clearing it and pulled a condom out of his pocket, rolled it on quickly. “I remembered this time.”

It was her turn to tell him, “Hurry.” She pushed his pants down over his hips, freeing him.

Despite his injuries, he had her back against the wall, legs around his waist. He entered her in one excruciatingly slow stroke and they stayed that way for a moment, both speechless, eyes locked.

When he moved again, her eyes went wide and a gasp escaped her throat. He braced himself with his hands, palms flat on the wall behind her as he began to rock his hips harder and faster.

“First time since Africa?” he asked.

She nodded, because she was damned near incoherent as he pressed into her, long strokes that filled her to the hilt, his cock throbbing inside of her.

“We always … end up … like this,” he panted, his breath warm in her ear. “Want a chance to take … my … time … Fuck, Jamie.”

She came first, he was right behind, struggling to stay on his feet as she clung to him, not caring about anything but the way he made her feel.

She groaned when he pulled out, eased her legs down, and once her feet were on the floor she finally let go of him.

He remained close, his forehead pressed to the wall above her head, his breath quick.

“Are you okay?”

“Fucking-A right I’m okay,” he muttered, his hand warm on her belly, as if to keep her in place near him. “Just need a minute.”

She started to reach up to stroke his hair and stopped herself, pulling back the way she had months earlier. This time, it was for far different reasons. “About today …”

“Let’s not go there again,” he said. And she didn’t push it further. Granted, she’d just gone way out of bounds, but the case itself was simple. Unfortunately straightforward, with a horrible toll. Heartbreaking for him and seemingly over for her.

“Seriously, why did they let you out? I didn’t think the hospital gave out passes.”

“Yeah, they kind of don’t.” He shrugged. “They don’t exactly know I’m gone. Well, no, that’s not true, two people know. I promised I’d be back before midnight.”

“You shouldn’t have done that—you’re hurt.”

“I needed to,” he said simply. “I couldn’t sit staring at those walls anymore. Couldn’t relive it for another second. At least this way, I’ve gotten an hour of peace.”

He pulled away from her and began to straighten his clothes. She did the same, attempted to button her shirt back up until she realized most of the buttons had gotten torn off. She opted for a T-shirt instead, and then walked him to the elevator—out of concern for his health, she told herself. Nothing at all to do with the fact that he’d wound his hand into hers and tugged her along like they were teenagers on a date.

She and Mike had never done PDA, not so much out of concern for their jobs, but because that wasn’t who they were. With Chris, his touching her seemed as natural as breathing.

“I want to see you again, after we get home,” he told her when the elevator doors opened.

“I don’t know if what we’ve got between us is anything more than sex and danger.” She pulled her hand from his. “When I’m with you, I want to be reckless. And I don’t think that’s good for me.”

He nodded, slowly. “You may be able to lie to yourself pretty well, but don’t bother trying to lie to me.” He remained facing her as he backed into the elevator. “You should never turn your back on a second chance.”

She didn’t move until the doors closed completely and then she turned away reluctantly and headed to her room alone.

Second chances. She’d had more than her share over the years. Whether or not she was open to another remained to be seen.

Her cell phone, which had been tossed aside earlier, was ringing when she returned to the room. After a second of fumbling under the bed, she fished it out of her jacket pocket and answered. “Michaels.”

It was her supervisor, Lou Carter. “Michaels, I’ve read your report. We’ve gotten further intel that makes it necessary for you to revisit the case. You’re going with Chris Waldron on the transport to get him back to the States.”

“What’s going on?”

“Waldron’s under investigation, along with Cameron Moore. You’ll take both men’s statements again.”

“What are they under investigation for?”

“Josiah Miller was killed before the explosion. Single bullet to the head.”

“Why does that implicate Chris Waldron and Cameron Moore?”

“According to what I’m seeing in your report, Josiah Miller gave the order that no one was to go into the embassy. Mark went in against Josiah’s orders.”

“Once Mark went into the embassy, the remaining three men took a vote—Cam and Chris decided to go in and Chris said Josiah joined them in the end at the embassy,” she explained, the way Chris had told it to her.

“Then why was Josiah Miller killed by a single sniper shot, right between the eyes? Why was his body found nowhere near the explosion sight, with no signs of being taken down by the blast?”

Her breath caught for a second. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Well, you’re going to find out. ASAP.”