Camouflage Heart (12 page)

“Move.” He dragged her up with the blade to her throat and yanked her forward, deeper into the jungle.

“No. Wait.” She fought him, her hands on the arm that held the knife, but he was the stronger one between the two of them. “You can go faster without me. You don't need me.”

But then as he sunk to his knee, she realized he was injured. Blood gushed from his side above the right hip. And still, he kept a good strong grip on her.

He probably knew he wasn't going to get far and wanted to use her as a shield when the army caught up with him. It wasn't the army that reached them first.

“Let her go.” Brian stepped out from behind a tree. He had to be weak with blood loss, too, but he showed no sign of it.

His eyes were as cold as the blade Omar held against her throat, and the predatory flow with which he moved, closer and closer, more menacing than the tiger had been. She felt Omar shift behind her.

“Come one step closer and she's dead,” he said.

“She gets as much as nicked and I'll tear you apart from limb to limb.” Brian's gaze was fixed on the man, his voice so deadly, it made her shiver despite the heat.

She'd seen him in rough-soldier mode before, but she'd never seen him like this. He was tightly controlled, yet there was a glint of madness in his gaze, a ferocious darkness.

The blade pressed against her skin. She didn't dare move when Omar tightened his hold on her. He was breathing hard and sweating, not nearly as confident now that Brian wasn't tied up and helpless before him.

Brian advanced on them, the sight as paralyzing as that of the tiger had been. And Omar must have felt the same, because he didn't move, didn't cut her
as he had threatened, even as he repeated, “Stop. Don't come any closer.” His words had little strength now, they were underlined with fear.

Then the next thing she knew, Brian lunged at them, flying through the air as he attacked. She was knocked aside, and rolled away. By the time she looked back, the two men were locked in a deadly battle. Omar still had the knife but Brian was gripping his wrist, as they wrestled for control.

Brian came to be on bottom somehow, holding Omar off, trying to shove away the sharp blade aimed at his throat. And then he did, twisting the knife and letting his arms go lax. Omar's weight, suddenly released, pushed the blade through his own heart.

He died with a groan of disbelief torn from his throat, his eyes rounded as if in surprise.

Brian shoved the man off without another look at him and rushed to her. “Are you hurt?”

He looked her over, then when she shook her head, unable to speak, he crushed her to him.

“How is your leg?” she asked finally when the wave of emotions in her began to settle.

“Barely bleeding.”

She examined the wound at his temple that didn't seem as bad up close as she had thought when she'd first seen it, a lot less damage than the blood suggested.

“A bullet got too close.” He lifted his fingers to the
spot she was looking at. “Head wounds bleed like a bastard.”

“Hang on.” She walked over to Omar, ripped the flask off his belt and went back to Brian to wash the side of his face.

She used the corner of her shirt, and when she was done with his skin, she rubbed the dried blood out of his hair. He could have used a stitch or two, but probably he'd be all right without it.

Guns were still going off here and there, but the battle seemed to be nearing the end.

He ran a light finger over his temple. “When I saw you under that bush— Didn't I tell you to head for the river?”

“If I didn't follow you, I couldn't have given the army your coordinates. I found a radio.” She smiled at the stunned look he gave her.

“You brought the army?”

Her smile widened into a grin.

“I should go help them,” he said after a moment, but didn't move.

She burrowed against him, soaked up his strength, and gave thanks for the miracle that they were both alive. “Stay.”

And he did.

He gave a strangled laugh and held her closer. “I've changed more than I realized,” he said when she
lifted her head and threw him a questioning look. “A couple of years ago, nothing and no one could have kept me from rushing back into the fray. Now, all I want to do is sit here and never let you go.”

She told herself not to read too much into that even as her heart leaped. They'd been through a lot together. She was the first woman he'd seen in four years, for heaven's sake. A certain amount of attachment was natural and would probably wear off fast once he returned to the real world. She couldn't fall for him. Not now.

She was going to become a mother in a few days, that's what she needed to focus on. She couldn't get entangled in a relationship that had started out of mutual need under extreme conditions. Not even if she could have sworn she was losing her heart to the man. She would get over it. They both would.

She pulled away just as the soldier she'd talked to earlier came walking from the direction of the fight, a couple of men behind him. He stopped by Omar's body, then looked at them. “So who the hell are you?”

“Audrey Benedict. My sister is Nicky Brown, one of the tourists kidnapped by the guerillas.”

“Brian Smith,” Brian said, and smiled when the man drew up an eyebrow. “I'm a personal protection specialist hired by Miss Benedict.”

She tried not to act surprised at his new last name
and the rest of his words, but wasn't sure she altogether managed.

“What do you know about the hostages?”

“They escaped the guerillas two days ago and headed for an Orang Ulu village. I can give you a fair approximate location.”

The man nodded. “We'll pick them up.” He turned to her. “You mentioned something about an attack in KL?”

She pulled the papers from her pocket and handed them to the man.

He looked through them. “Looks like you've been swimming.”

“I have. But they were bad even before that. We were able to make out Kuala Lumpur and the date August tenth. This part here—” she stepped next to him and found the right sheet “—used to be a list of embassies.”

“Call it in,” he said to one of his men before turning back to her. “And you came by this how?”

“We were both captured by Omar. He wrote this to another guerilla leader, and we took it with us when we escaped,” Brian said, pointing to one set of papers. “These I found at Hamid's camp where the hostages were.” He indicated the rest.

“Right. We'll talk some more about this.” He motioned to four of his soldiers and said something in
Malay before switching back to English. “There's a new logging road about two miles east of here with enough space for the chopper to land. I'm giving you an escort there and sending you to KL for further questioning.”

“And you'll send someone for the hostages?”

He nodded. “If you're cleared in KL, you'll be having dinner with your sister tonight.”

She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Nicky would be safe soon, the whole nightmare over. They'd be together again. But she was pretty sure that as soon as they got to Kuala Lumpur, Brian would be gone. And as much as she knew that was for the best, she wasn't ready for it yet, reluctant to see him go.

There were still things unsaid between them. She could not possibly put her gratitude into words, and there were other feelings that were perhaps best left unsaid. She looked at him, hoping for a gesture, something to tell her what to do.

He smiled. “It's over.”

She blinked hard, hating the words.

He wasn't ready. He didn't know what to say.

Brian stood in front of the door of the hotel room, overwhelmed with sensory experiences. The hustle and bustle of the streets, the sheer size of the hospital where Audrey and he had been treated, even the clothes he wore, felt alien. Everything was too much, too loud, too new, too complicated.

He had spent the night watching television in his hospital room—the doctors had kept him overnight, but let Audrey go—and what he'd seen left him bewildered. He would have a lot to learn, a lot to catch up with. He didn't know anything, it seemed. No, not true. He knew one thing. He knew what he wanted.

Audrey.

He wanted her unequivocally, forever. He had enough time to think to know that he was in love with her.

And he loved her enough to want what was best for her. He was pretty sure it wasn't him.

He had no job, no money, nowhere to live. She deserved better. She deserved a carefree man who laughed a lot, not one who had years worth of dark memories to weigh him down. She deserved to sleep next to someone who wouldn't wake her up with his nightmares in the middle of the night.

And yet he was here. Not only to thank her for paying for his bill at the hospital and leaving him cash at the front desk. He wanted to see her one last time. He needed to see that she was okay. Then he would walk away.

He knocked even though he had a keycard. Audrey had left it in the envelope with the money.

She opened the door and stared at him for a moment. Blinked. “Brian…”

God, she looked beautiful. She had her long hair down, the light gleaming off the golden strands that framed her face. She wore a pink figure-hugging sheath dress that made his mouth go dry. She was a different person. The grungy teammate who had fought her way through the jungle with him and ate grubs from the palm of his hand was gone. In her place, he found a dazzling woman, every inch a lady. Someone who took his breath away, but a woman he didn't recognize.

Her expression looked as stunned as he felt.

He glanced down at the pants and shirt he wore, and conscious of his yuppie haircut, ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn't meant to spend more of her money than it took to get to the hotel, but he had trouble with the doorman letting him in, taking him for a panhandler.

“You're so different…” The words rushed from her, before she caught herself.

And at last he looked past her clothes and found her eyes. Even they weren't the same. She had makeup on.

Something moved behind her and he had her pushed aside, his body positioned to protect her, acting on instinct before he knew what he was doing.

The two men who came out of the kitchen area of the suite looked at him with suspicion.

“Audrey?” The taller of the two came forward.

“It's okay, Josh. This is Brian Smith, the man I told you about.”

So this was the ex-husband. Brian extended his hand, not liking the way Josh seemed to measure him up. The man's handshake was firm, perhaps firmer than necessary, maybe a message he wanted to send. Brian resisted the urge to squeeze back hard, and pulled away before crossing the border of polite.

“My brother-in-law, Trevor,” Audrey introduced the other guy, moving by him, making his head swirl with the flowery scent of her soap.

“I wanted to thank you for what you've done. I talked to Nicky this morning. They ended up taking the hostages to Miri yesterday to get checked out. It was the nearest hospital. But they'll be all here by tonight. She asked me to convey her gratitude if I see you before she does.”

Good to know some of the hostages, at least, felt that way. He'd caught coverage of that, too, the guy who had wanted to fight him for the boat, giving an interview about the reckless and irresponsible nature of the rescue, and the disrespect and lack of cooperation of the man who had come for them—a “hot-headed maverick,” he'd said, “who took unnecessary chances with the lives of the hostages.”

“You do this kind of thing often?” Josh was still checking him out.

“As often as necessary. I work in personal security,” he said, sticking to the story he'd invented the day before.

“Audrey is lucky to have found you,” Trevor interjected.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She looked flustered. “Is everything all right?”

“Sure,” she said, but didn't look at him.

“She'll be fine now that we're here,” Josh said, and stepped between them.

“I suppose you came for your fee.” The brother-in-law offered him a beer out of the minibar.

Saliva gathered in his mouth. There had been times in the past couple of years when he would have given his soul for a cold beer. Now he waved it off. He wouldn't be here long enough to finish it.

“I'll be taking care of everything, of course.” Trevor put the beer down and reached for his checkbook.

“It's all taken care of,” he said. The suite felt small all of a sudden, and for a crazy moment he wished they were still back in the jungle.

“If you prefer cash we can get it by this afternoon and bring it over to your hotel,” Josh said, putting his patrician nose where it didn't belong. “Where is it that you're staying?”

He didn't know yet. His first thought upon release had been to see Audrey. “No further payment is necessary.”

He would get the money Colonel Wilson was sending to him at the embassy, crash in an airport hotel for the night, then leave on the first flight in the morning. He didn't belong here with these people. They belonged with each other.

“Mind if I use your phone?” he asked Audrey, then when she nodded, he called down and asked for reception to get him a cab to the embassy and call up
when it was here. All he needed were a few minutes to say goodbye.

But Josh interrupted his call with, “The embassy is closed today. They all are. Some kind of credible terrorist threat or something.”

Of course. August 10. He glanced at Audrey. How much had she told the men?

“We already tried to call earlier, to ask for their help. I missed my court date for the adoption hearing,” she said.

Great. He had wanted to give the money back that she'd left for him at the hospital, but it seemed he would need to spend more of it. He hated it, and hated even more the uncertainty of the future. More of the same waited for him back home. He'd probably been declared dead long ago, his apartment rerented, the money in his bank account God only knew where. What was the law for people who died without beneficiaries? The government probably had his savings by now.

“I will be—” He started to tell her that he would pay her back at the earliest opportunity, but Josh put his hand on the small of Audrey's back, and jealousy as hot and sharp as lightning nearly tore him in two. He wanted to kill the man, rip him apart. He had to leave. Now.

Audrey was safe with two men who obviously felt protective of her, one of whom was probably in love
with her. They'd had their misunderstandings, but her ex obviously realized now what he had lost. And Josh was the kind of man she should have in her life. Brian clenched his jaw. What the hell did he have to offer?

He glanced at the clock on the wall without registering the time. “I'm late,” he said. “I better get going.” And with a nod to all three of them he walked out the door, not allowing as much as a goodbye look at her, not a handshake, nothing. If they touched, his heart might have shattered.

He put on numbness like he would have a uniform and, closing the door behind him, he walked away.

She deserves a normal life. He repeated it over and over to himself on the way down to the lobby, avoiding to look at his alien reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. He looked like a gentleman tourist instead of a soldier.

The unreasonable fury, the violent anger he felt toward Josh scared him. He wanted to kill the man for touching Audrey, for having a right to be in her hotel room.

He was no better than a wounded beast out for blood.

And that was exactly why he needed to protect Audrey from himself. Except—he thought—the emotions that nearly overwhelmed him weren't altogether unreasonable. He was a man, watching another guy take the woman he loved.

“She deserves a normal life,” he murmured to himself. Josh was the right choice for her.

And then it hit him that he'd never given her that. Didn't she deserve a
choice?

If he truly was a soldier, why wasn't he fighting for her instead of retreating?

 

H
AMID WALKED TOWARD
the elevator as the light came on. The door opened. There was one man in there, staring straight ahead.
The negotiator.

Hamid turned to a guest room, presenting his back to the man, and knocked. He heard the elevator door close just as the door in front of him opened.

“Yes?” An older woman looked at him, her pencil-thin eyebrows drawn to midforehead as she took in his hotel uniform.

“You requested help with opening the extra bed, Madam?”

She looked baffled. “No. Certainly not.”

“I apologize. I must have the wrong room number.” He smiled cordially and walked away.

He didn't go back to the elevators to push the call button; he went to the stairs. That man could be staying at the hotel—an extreme case of bad luck—or he could be here for him.

Hamid ran over in his mind what he'd seen in the lobby. No extra security, no sign that his plans had
been discovered, that somebody was setting a trap. Still, he had to be careful. He took the stairs two at a time to the twenty-third floor where his men were setting up the second bomb in a linen supply closet.

 

A
UDREY STOOD
in the middle of the room, feeling as if a typhoon had swept through her soul. Josh and Trevor were talking, but she couldn't focus her mind on a single word.
Brian was gone.
Tears burned her eyes, threatening to spill.
Think about something else. Anything.

“Are we still going downstairs to eat?” She said the first thing that came to her mind, although she couldn't have cared less about food at the moment, wasn't sure if she could swallow a bite.

Breathe in, breathe out.

“I was going to tell you just before that guy came in. Funny that he stopped by, isn't it?” Josh watched her. “With him having been already paid and all. I hope he didn't form some unnatural attachment to you.” He shook his head. “Anyway, the restaurant, even the ballroom, are closed to the public today. There's some huge reception going on. The German ambassador finished off his term and he's going back home, and the other diplomats and whatnot are giving a big send-off party. But there are plenty of great places in the city.” He smiled and took her hand.

She barely registered his words. “Would you guys mind if we ordered in? I don't really feel up to going out.”

“Sure.”

“Of course.”

The tears were coming. She backed away. It wasn't as if she was embarrassed to cry in front of them, it was that she didn't want to have to explain why she was crying when everything was finally back to being good as far as they were concerned. Nicky would be here soon.

“You order, I'll grab some ice.” She picked the ice bucket off the counter and turned as the first tear spilled.

“I can get it.” Josh was right behind her.

“I don't mind,” she said. “I need to stretch my legs.” And then she was out the door, relieved when he didn't follow.

She leaned against the wall and let out a big shivering breath. Brian was gone.

She had expected it, of course, but still it seemed too sudden. She hadn't anticipated how hard it would hit her. She had thought maybe— What? That he would ask for her phone number? That when their lives settled back at home, they could— She couldn't even finish the sentence. It seemed ridiculous now.

He left. Like that. What they had shared meant nothing to him. God, it meant the world to her. She had been what? Swift release after years of forced abstinence?

Tears washed down her face and she hiccupped. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She'd always been a messy crier. The elevator dinged. Someone was coming to their floor. She headed for the staircase, not wanting to be seen like this.

She set the ice bucket down and leaned against the railing, took a couple of calming breaths that didn't help at all. The sound of footsteps came from above. Someone was coming down the stairs. Wasn't there any place she could get some privacy?

She looked up and saw a waiter. What was he doing in the staircase? He greeted her politely and she nodded to him. Then her gaze fell to his right arm, left bare by the short-sleeved white uniform shirt. A giant crowned tiger lunged on his tattooed skin.

Hamid?

They were here. The ambassador's gala. It all made sense in a flash.

She gripped the railing and must have emitted some noise, because the man looked back at her. She made for the door, but he was already there, pulling a handgun from the back of his waistband.

A month ago, she would have screamed, and if her legs weren't shaking too hard for the job, she would have tried to run. But the jungle had changed her. She rushed the man instead, bent her waist and slammed into his midsection, pushing him against the door. He
dropped the gun, probably more from surprise than the force of her attack, and they both dove for it, reaching it at the same time.

She did scream then, putting her full lung capacity to good use. “Help!”

But it was too late, he was gaining the upper hand fast, rolling her under him, bending her arm until the barrel was pointing at her head.

Blood stained the white shirt on his shoulder. There was murder in his eyes.

“Brian!” she screamed again, on instinct before she realized it was no use, he was already gone.

And then like an apparition, he was there, lifting Hamid off her and throwing him down the stairs. The man rolled but came up quick at the landing. He still had the gun and aimed it at Brian.