Hot & Bothered (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 8) (22 page)

The bed they’d done so many amazing things together in last night.

“I know you’re upset,” she said, spreading her hands on her legs. “But I’ve told you from the beginning that I had a job to do.”

He wanted to say that it was too dangerous, but the words stuck in his throat. How many times had he said them already?

“It’s half a million in cash. He wants the money. He won’t care who delivers it. It doesn’t have to be you.”

She snorted. “He’s paranoid. Of course he cares who delivers it. If one of you shows up, looking like you do—all big and muscular and meaner than a rattlesnake—he’s going to slip away like he was never there. I have to be there, and I have to be sitting in the same place I always sit—or as near to it as possible if the table’s taken. You’ll be outside, Ryan. If something happens, you’ll bust in and get me out.”

Yeah, he damn well would. No matter what the cost to himself.

She stood and came over to him, tilted her head up to look at him. “I’m not happy with you right now, but I understand why you want to stop me. What I need you to realize is that you can’t. And that you trust I’m the right person for this job. I’m the only one with the skills and knowledge, Ryan.”

Fuck
. “I trust you. It’s not about that. It’s about this fucking place, about everything that could go wrong out there. About our baby, our future.”

“I know this is about our future—why do you think it’s so important to me? I have to prove myself, prove I’m an asset and not a security risk. If I can’t do that—” She swallowed, her brown eyes glistening. “I can’t let my mistakes color this child’s life.”

“You don’t know that they will. He’ll have the same opportunities as anyone.”

She shook her head. “You really don’t understand what it’s like to be me. I’ve told you how important this is to me, Ryan. I won’t sit this one out to make you feel better. You need to get over it and focus on the mission.”

 
He reeled as if she’d slapped him. “I am focused.”

“You aren’t. You’re as scattered as a cat chasing ten mice. You need to snap out of it.”

He growled. And then he grasped her by the upper arms and dragged her in close. “I’m focused, honey. Focused on you and our child. I’ll be on your ass out there, and if that fucker so much as looks at you cross-eyed, I’m coming in. I protect what’s mine, Emily—and you’re mine. I don’t care what the fuck you think about us getting married or any half-assed ideas you have about being a single mother. It’s not going down that way. You’re marrying me, even if I have to take you bound and gagged to the preacher. And don’t think I won’t do it, either. Brandy will fucking help me. Victoria won’t say a word.”

Her eyes were like saucers, but she wasn’t struggling to get away. And then her gaze dropped to his mouth, and he shuddered with the force of his need for her. Right now. Every day. He needed her in his life. In his bed.

He
needed
her. Ryan blinked with the realization that he’d somehow come to need a specific person in his life. How had it happened? Did that mean he loved her?
 

Holy shit, that’s exactly what it meant. For months now, she’d been a part of his life, a comfortable part that he took for granted like a television or a cell phone. He’d expected her to always be there, and when she hadn’t been, he’d felt betrayed. Lost. He’d spent two months quietly stewing about the fact that she’d left him.

And now she was here, in his arms, and she was about to leave him again. It terrified him.

Her brow pleated in concern, and he knew his expression must have changed pretty dramatically. “You okay, Ry?”

“Yeah,” he said past the huge knot in his throat. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She came willingly, slipping her arms around his waist and laying her head over his heart. She was small and soft, and he lifted his hand to stroke her hair. He wanted to tell her what he felt, what he’d realized.

But a part of him held back. If he told her now, would he throw her off her game with Mustafa? Would she be distracted?

“I like that you care,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “Maybe I’ll marry you after all.”

He snorted. “Already told you there’s no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not this time, honey.”

She pushed away until she could look into his eyes. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, I think we do.”

Someone pounded on the door and Emily flinched. But she didn’t take her eyes from his.
 

“Showtime,” she whispered.

“Hey, you two in there?” Fiddler shouted. “We’ve got to get moving.”

“Coming,” Ryan answered. But not before he kissed Emily. He lowered his head and captured her mouth. She melted into him, her body pliant and soft, her mouth responsive and sweet.

It was a hot, desperate kiss filled with too many emotions to name. And it was over all too soon. Emily broke away first, her fingers curling into his shirt as she pushed him back.

“We have to go, Ry. Time to find Linda Cooper and her colleagues.”

There was a ball of despair sitting in his gut. “As soon as this is over, we’re talking. About everything and anything.”

She smiled. “I know. I can’t wait.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MENDEZ SAT AT HIS DESK, studying the files an aide had brought, when his secure phone rang. He whipped it up with a clipped “Mendez.”

“Hello, John.” It was Samantha Spencer’s voice. He would know that soft, sultry tone anywhere, even if he rarely heard it. A mild electrical current sizzled through him at the sound. It was pleasant, not overwhelming, and maybe even somewhat fascinating.

“Sam. How did you get this number?”

She laughed. “Don’t ask, don’t tell. Suffice it to say I got it.”

The secure phone on his desk was known to only a few people. Very few. When it rang, he knew it was important. Perhaps even critical to the safety of the world.
 

But this was Sam, and she didn’t sound as if she had a pressing issue for him.

“What do you need from me?”

This time her laugh sent a prickle of arousal down his spine, tingling into his balls.
 

“Oh, Johnny. If we had but world enough and time.” She cleared her throat. “But no, this is about your situation in Acamar.”

His senses went on high alert. He hadn’t been told she was on this mission in any capacity, but apparently she was. And she definitely had his attention now.

“What do you have?”

“Nothing much, just some buzz—and it might not mean a thing. You know there’s a woman in charge now? Raja?”

“Yes.” He shouldn’t be surprised that Sam knew, but he was. “Do you have something on her?”

“Not exactly, but we’ve been listening for her name. It came up twice today… and so did Emily bin Yusuf’s.”

“What about Emily?”

“Raja wants to meet Emily.”

Fuck
. “Any idea why?”

“No, not really. But I thought you should know.”

“I appreciate the tip.” He wasn’t certain what it meant, but there was no such thing as a useless piece of information in his world. Everything had a meaning—you just had to find it.

“I knew you would… If you want to thank me in person, you can come to the bar tomorrow night. I’ll be there.”

“With your date?”

“Not this time, Johnny. It’ll just be me… and you.”

* * *

Emily slipped the abaya over her clothing. The beauty of this particular garment was that it covered the messenger bag she’d draped crossways over her shoulder. It wasn’t everyday she walked around with a half a million in one-hundred-dollar bills strapped to her body. That was five thousand bills, each weighing a gram. Or approximately eleven pounds total.

It seemed like half a million dollars should weigh more, but it didn’t. It was like picking up a hand weight in the gym, or a Thanksgiving turkey for a small gathering. How many turkeys could she buy with this much dough anyway?

It wasn’t even all that bulky. Each stack of one thousand bills was 4.3 inches thick.

Ryan held a small square that looked like one of those breath strips that typically came in a hard plastic package. When she had the abaya situated and she’d fixed the hijab over her hair, he came over and took her arm, lifting it up and pushing the sleeve of the abaya back.

“A little present from HOT,” he said, pressing the square to her skin. It immediately stuck to her, fading as he rubbed it on.
 

“What is that?”

“A bio-tracker.”

She looked at the spot where he’d put the tracker. She couldn’t even tell it was there anymore. “Nice stuff if you can get it, 007.”

Ryan grinned. “HOT is the best of the best. Of course we have all the cool toys.”

Billy Blake looked up from where he hunkered over his laptop. “Got your signal loud and clear.”

Emily sighed as she looked at Ryan again. “I’m only going to the café, you guys. You’ll have a visual on me. This thing might just be overkill.”

She held her arm up and studied the spot. Not a trace of the bio-tracker was there. Knowing HOT, it was experimental technology—and probably pretty expensive at that. She didn’t think Mendez would appreciate them using up assets on her.

“Maybe, but it makes me feel better knowing you’re wearing it.”

Tenderness flooded her. Oh, this man made her insides flutter. And when she thought of that little speech he’d made about marrying her no matter what?
 

Yeah, total melted-panty moment. She’d been mad and turned on all at once. And she’d been about to tell him off, except that he’d suddenly gotten this look like he was lost in a vast forest and couldn’t remember how to find his way out again. She’d wanted to ask him about that look, but he’d dragged her into his arms and she’d loved being next to him so much that she’d gone without question.

She wished now that she’d asked, because they’d run out of time when Fiddler interrupted. Ryan had said they would talk, but she didn’t know when that would be now. After she got the hostages’ location from Mustafa, HOT was going to work. What if they went after the hostages immediately? She very likely wouldn’t see Ryan again until they were Stateside.

That thought made her shudder. There was something about knowing he might not be here tonight that didn’t feel right.
 

“We ready?” Nick asked, strolling into the room.

Nick, Ryan, Iceman, and Fiddler were going with her for this meeting. Billy would monitor her conversation and location from the compound while the other guys prepared for the mission to rescue the hostages. She prayed that Mustafa delivered so they could do their jobs. So Linda Cooper could be reunited with her husband in Italy.

“I’m ready,” Emily said.

“Let’s roll,” Iceman replied, swinging the strap of his assault rifle over his shoulder. The others were similarly armed. No half measures for them today. They wore Arab clothing, including the
kaffiyeh
with black
igal
cords to hold the head covering in place—but they also carried weapons openly, which wasn’t unusual for Acamar or Qu’rim these days. There was always fighting going on in the desert and the border areas. Before long, if it wasn’t contained in Qu’rim, it would reach all the way to Al-Izir. In fact, the presence of the Freedom Force in the city was already an ominous sign.

“Wait a minute,” Ryan said with a growl before turning back to Emily. “Your comm link still working?”

Emily touched the mic hidden in her clothing. “You hear me?”

“Loud and clear. You?”

She’d heard his voice being delivered in her ear as if he were standing right there and talking into it. “I hear you.”

“We’ve been over it a hundred times already,” Iceman grumbled. “Her shit works. Your shit works. All our shit works. Let’s go and find out where those hostages are. I want to get home to Grace by the weekend, so let’s stop talking and get moving.”

“We’ll be here waiting for your signal,” Matt said as they started for the street. “As soon as you can get us the location, we’ll start working on an extraction plan.”

When they reached the exterior door, Iceman and Nick went out first. She waited with Ryan until she could step out. He would follow when she’d been gone for thirty seconds.

He caught her hand and squeezed. “You be careful out there, honey. I need you to come back in one piece.”

His words warmed her. “Same here, Ry. This baby needs two parents in his life.”

“Yeah, I…”

Her heart thumped. “What, Ryan?”

His smile got her right in the pit of her stomach. “It can wait. You need to think about this meeting and Mustafa.”

She knew she did, and yet he was always front and center in her mind. Especially now. She lifted on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. Then she slipped out the door and started the long walk to the market.

* * *

Mustafa wasn’t there when she arrived, but then she hadn’t expected him to be. The café was crowded this afternoon with men and women—though mostly men—having the strong, sweet Arab coffee flavored with cardamom that they preferred.