Danger Mine: A Base Branch Novel (17 page)

Several minutes into the flight Street noticed three dark specks against the white expanse. One large. Two small. He cradled Khani’s hand in his. The move gently drew her attention from her brother’s recumbent position. Her line of sight followed the point of his finger out the open helicopter door.

This close her laugh shook his ribs. “They look so friendly from this distance.”

Street trained his gaze on Khani’s face. It translated such strength and surprising vulnerability. “Yes, you do.”

T
he fight started
at sixteen thousand feet.

A vicious curse knifed through the roar of the two turbo shaft engines, wind zipping past the closed doors at one hundred fifty knots, and King’s boisterous snoring. Khani’s eyes popped opened.

The medic spoke calmly. “I understand your concern. If they were my team, I’d be worried too. Before you can help them, you have to help yourself and let us get you better. As soon as we get to base, your friends can start the search.” His arm, banded with white cloth and a red cross, lifted from Zeke and pointed toward her and King.

Her mouth opened to reassure her brother that they’d handle any problem as soon as the Hawk touched down at JBER—as the military dubbed Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson. Zeke’s balled fist shot up from the loosened strap of the stretcher. It connected with the medic’s jaw, laying him flat.

The action roused the two soldiers sitting across from her. The nearest to the medic sprang to his aid, while the other wrestled with Zeke’s free arm.

“Zeke.” Khani straightened her back from King’s shoulder.

“Stay where you are.” The airman attending the medic who rolled about the floor clutching his jaw warned with a sharp finger. “Your Marine…” He jabbed the short nail at her. He must have recognized the commando dagger running laterally up Zeke’s abdomen. When her gaze flew to it all she saw were new burn marks and bruises contorting the tattoo’s precise lines. “He’s being irrational.”

That remained to be seen.

He continued, “Adrenaline combined with the reduction of his pain is making him feel up to task, wanting to complete the mission assigned him, no matter the cost. He could hurt you.”

She snorted. “He’s not my Marine. He’s my brother.”

Zeke arm-wrestled with the airmen who held the litter strap in the air, ready to secure his wrist. If only he could get the upper hand on a man beaten, malnourished, and anchored to the floor of a helicopter. Grunts snarled from her brother’s mouth. The younger, smaller soldier panted.

“Bloody hell.” King shifted behind her.

Khani ignored all the men, but Zeke. She crawled to his side. “Zeke. Stop fighting and talk to me.”

“Tell them to let me go.” Veins bulged in her brother’s pale forehead. They created a catacomb across his battered neck, arms, and chest.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she ordered.

“I can’t,” he shouted so loudly it cracked her eardrums. “You’ll try and fix it. It’ll make things worse.” Zeke freed his other hand. He added it to the struggle. The added strength helped him pry the airman’s arm over his punished torso. The young man screeched in pain.

“Stop. You’re going to break his arm.” She hollered the word. Her arm shot out to disengage Zeke’s hold.

Her brother’s left hand released the airman and clamped around her throat. “Let me go.”

The move stunned more than hurt. Her hands flew to his wrist, but she barred the instinct to fight. She stared at the IV line hanging from the ceiling and tried to wrap her head around what was happening.

King’s fist flew across the space. A thud slackened Zeke’s grip. Air returned to Khani’s lungs. She fell back on her ass. The airman did also, clutching his arm to his stomach. She stared from her unconscious brother to King’s tight expression. “Thank you. It needed doing.” And she couldn't have done it.

He bowed his head, fixed Zeke’s wrists back in the Velcro cuffs, and then sat between them. “You fellas all right?”

“All, but my pride.” The medic sat on his arse between the other two; both nodded in accession. “I should’ve seen it coming. Especially with his,” he paused and lowered his voice, “apparent captivity and torture. Who the hell would want to be restricted after what he’s been through? Not me, for sure.”

“What reason did he give you for wanting to be released?” Khani asked.

“I assumed he was talking out of his head about you two.” His shoulders bobbed. “Now I know better. He’s worried about the fate of his team. Said he needed to warn them of danger immediately.”

She looked to King. His locked jaw and steady gaze gave away none of his thoughts. “If they’re in danger, why couldn’t we help warn them? Why does it have to be him?”

“I don’t know.” King’s voice was cool, distant. He stared into near space. His mossy eyes were calculating something he wasn't ready to share, which only ramped her curiosity. She expected him to say more. When he didn’t she stared down at her brother, seeking answers that wouldn’t come. Not for the next ten minutes or more.

“We’re on approach,” the airman who’d avoided injury announced.

A collective breath released cabin pressure.

They touched down five minutes later, greeted by a short man in a matching speckled uniform, save for the eagle embroidered into his hat.

“Colonel. We’re in your debt.” She and King both extended their hands.

The man snorted. “Debt. I still owe Tucker a few favors before I get mine paid off. Hell, I’m happy to help. I never thought I’d see the day I got to repay even a fraction of the grace that sneaky son of a bitch showed me.”

He shook their hands in turn, and then waved them toward his monstrous truck. “We’ll follow the boys to the hospital, where Dr. Valentine will meet us. You can talk to her, and then whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you to an open officer’s barrack. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s warm and dry. I’ve had some clothes and food stocked for you. However long you need us, we’re at your disposal.”

King gestured for her to go first and followed her to the vehicle. To his credit he didn’t offer her a boost into the cab, but he should’ve given the Colonel the option. The man’s left leg remained straight, impeding his ascent into the driver’s seat. “Don’t worry. My right one works perfectly, my left one is still attached, and my ticker is still ticking thanks to Tucker.”

He strapped on his safety belt and waited for them to do the same before following the white and red truck through the level streets for only two straightaways

and three turns. They met at the back of a large tan complex.

As he’d said a woman with feathery bangs, a bun pinned at her nape, and a white coat rushed the lead truck. A man and woman in scrubs followed suit with a rolling gurney, ready to take over for the airman.

Khani’s throat clogged at the sight of Zeke’s marred body being lifted out of the truck bed. He was alive and he’d be back to peak condition in no time. And still, she coughed against her raw emotions.

She and King kept silent as they exited the vehicle and followed the bed, being rolled toward sliding doors by the medical team.

When they reached the door a nurse held up her hand. “I’m sorry, you can’t come back here. If you’ll walk around to—”

“They’re clear,” Dr. Valentine hollered from ten feet down the hall. “Put them in my office. I’ll be with you as soon as I have something to report.” Her feet continued their rapid chop down the corridor, and then her brother and his entourage disappeared around a corner.

Looking sheepish, the older lady led them through a maze of doors and into the neatest office she’d ever seen.

“Whoa,” King exclaimed. It was the first thing he’d said since the Helo. No jokes. No male bravado. No sexual innuendoes. No King Street.

“Yeah, Dr. Valentine is extremely tidy. No one is allowed in her office. Not even her husband. Not her staff. Especially not her kids. You two must be royalty or something.” The nurse moved to close the door, but stopped. “Royalty or not, I wouldn’t touch anything, if I were you. We might have to roll you out of this place in a body bag.” She smiled, and then closed them into a veritable prison.

Khani paced from one side of the alphabetized bookshelf with perfectly aligned spines to the other. She didn’t dare look at King for fear of what he’d say or not say. Something ate at him. It showed in his silence and missing humor. It showed in the way he avoided her gaze, avoided touching her.

An hour in, she didn’t know which she toiled with more, her brother’s problem that was so twisted he couldn't talk to her about or what King had to say to her.

Z
eke had broken ribs
, was dehydrated and weak from malnourishment, but would recover quickly. The doctor had insisted on keeping him sedated through the night to minimize risk to himself and others. They’d been ushered out of her office and into the colonel’s hands with only a low grumble about the track Khani had worn in the carpet.

Street nodded his thanks to the high-ranking man indebted to Vail Tucker and headed for the barracks door. He slid the key into the lock. It opened into a twelve-foot square with stale air and no more furnishings than the cabin had after the explosion that nearly ended the life of his woman. A woman that slipped through his fingers before he had the chance to firm his grasp.

With a flip of the wall switch a florescent box light splitting the living area-slash-kitchen flickered to life. He tossed the keys onto the counter a few feet away, dropped both their rucks to the right of the entry, and headed to the only door besides the mini closet door in the kitchen.

A full-sized bed with crisp blue linens lay beyond the thin wall. The precise corners looked sharp enough to cut flesh. It would just beat sleeping on the floor if Khani knocked him unconscious, which could very well happen.

His foot hit the threshold of a bare bones shower and shitter when the front door hit the frame with a resounding thud. A small part of him cringed, while the rest of him tugged up trousers and turned to meet his fate.

Colonel must have packed the cheerful grin Khani had given him and taken it with him. Her jacket lay on the ground. His did too for that matter. He’d forgotten the damn thing in the truck.

A surly scowl drew her features taut. Her fingers pinched her narrow hips. She hitched both brows to her hairline and tilted her head with a quick snap. His cock twitched in response to her unspoken command.

He didn’t breath.

He’d clocked Zeke without asking questions. The man’s hand had been clamped around Khani’s throat. Her brother should feel lucky he’d shown such restraint. Anyone else would’ve been pitched out of the Hawk with his arms flapping and all the prayers left in his lungs.

Street hadn’t known why the bloke freaked. It hadn’t mattered. Only it mattered a hell of a lot. Zeke Slaughter might be a mercenary punk, but he was a loyal one. Over days of torture—the world of which didn’t show on his tattered body—he hadn’t broken. He’d kept his mission’s, his teammates’, his command’s confidence at all cost.

Now that he was free he needed to protect those vulnerable to the crime syndicate. His team. His friends. He would stop at nothing to get to them. To warn them against danger.

Only Street knew it was too late.

Stas had already taken them. The mob had already started torturing them. In order to keep Zeke from ripping the IV out of his vein and stumbling off to save the day when he’d only get himself killed, Street had to tell the man what he knew.

He had to explain to Khani that he’d betrayed her trust. That he’d gone behind her back and researched her brother and her.

In order to save her from losing the only person on earth she loved, he had to give her up. He had no doubt in his mind that she’d force him out of her life…forever.

“Spit it out,” she ordered, breaking the stony silence.

His gaze narrowed.

“Don’t play dumb.” Khani speared a finger at him from across the distance.

Desperation steamed the blood in his veins. It mingled with the desire to hold onto her forever.

“You haven't said two words since we landed. You’ve avoided my eyes, even my ass.” She scoffed. “Whatever you have to say,” her arms spread wide, “out with it already.”

His voice was rusty and thick, the words clear. “I love you.”

Her chest flinched visibly in the white thermal shirt molded to her every muscle, gentle curves, and the stiff tips of her nipples. If he’d barreled across the room and blown into her sternum, he couldn’t have knocked the wind out of her more thoroughly. That truth read clearly on her slacked jaw and wide eyes.

“It’s not possible,” she wheezed.

“Sure it is. You’re easy to love.”

“The hell I am,” she bit, regaining a bit of her footing. “I’m mean and irritable. I bite your head off on a daily basis, and I’m not the kind of lover you enjoy.”

“You’re a no bullshit kind of woman.” He took a step forward. “Your resolve excites me. Your vulnerability disarms me.” When she didn’t bolt he took another step and then another bringing him toe to toe with his undoing. He skimmed a finger over her strong jaw. “And we both know I quite enjoy you as a lover.”

Street grabbed her hands and secured them behind his neck. That innocent contact stroked his length to full erection. “I don’t need you to accept it. I don’t need you to love me back. I needed you to know I love you, Khani.” He bent and rested his forehead against hers. “And I need you right now more than I ever have. Fuck me, before I forget myself and nail you to the door.”

“Do it,” she barked. Her breath caressed his hungry mouth.

“Do what exactly?” he ground, holding onto the strings of his restraint.

“Grab my ass, impale me with your big dick, and screw me to the door, now.”

It wasn’t a declaration of love. He hadn’t expected one. But this was as close to surrender as Khani Slaughter would ever come. Right or wrong with his secret between them, he’d take it with greedy thrusts.

As answer, he snatched the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head. She pulled her arms from his neck and through the sleeves. No bra. The petite pink points of her breasts demanded his ardent gaze and more. She harangued him without words, jerking his belt free. His hips shot forward, eagerly grinding into her flat palm.

A
groan detonated
in his craned neck, but the persistence of his lust drove him. He tussled with the button of her pants and zipper. Once over her hips the loose-legged pants fell to the floor.

He dropped to his knees in front of her. The laces on her boots took precious time to unlace, but he didn’t squander the seconds. His gaze lifted to her crotch, and then her eyes in question.

“Yes, King,” she sighed.

His name on her lips was the closest he’d ever get to heaven. Well, his name on her lips when she came from his thrusts. His teeth nipped at her lace panties. Her hips bowed. He tongued her through the material, catching tastes of her flesh through the netted fabric.

Too soon her laces came undone. Her panting said she was also close to coming undone. Good. He didn’t want to hurt her. He would, but only to protect her. Maybe she’d know that much.

Street tugged her boots and socks off her feet. He stood, shucked his shirt, unfastened the line of buttons on his pants, pushed everything over his hips, filled his hands with her lush bottom, and then hoisted her into the air. Her arms locked around his neck and pulled him to her breasts.

His fingers hooked into her panties. With a wrench the material moved, granting the crown of his head access to her silken skin.

Shirt suffocating him, pants around his ankles, he plowed into her tight little channel. She screamed into the barren room. Her heels dug into his ass. He held completely still for an interminable minute.

“Pump me onto you. Make me fuck you, lover.” Her words came hot in his ear.

He followed orders like he had special training for it. His fingers dug into her flesh. Up. He pulled her to the tip of his shaft. Down. He released her weight and rammed deep. Up and down he drove them both until sweat beaded on his forehead from gritting his restraint.

She licked a line up the side of his neck. “More,” she demanded.

He stepped forward, pinning her back to the door. His hands slid to the crooks of her knees. He lifted them high, changing the angle.

Now his thrusts fucked her, screwing her into the door as promised. Like she wanted. Like he needed.

Street let go of tomorrow. He focused on her keening breaths, on her slick, lithe body, on her screaming pleasure. And he released his.