Seven Days to Forever (11 page)

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Authors: Ingrid Weaver

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Suspense, #Erotica

BOOK: Seven Days to Forever
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“I couldn’t refuse.”

Sarah smiled. “Sergeant O’Toole does have a way with words. He could charm the hairs off a camel if he could speak Arabic.”

“Flynn’s charm has nothing to do with why I’m here. It’s the child. Matteo Vilyas. How could I refuse to help?”

“Yes, it’s a sensitive situation. Ladavia is a small nation, but its location makes it crucial to our government. It also has untapped oil reserves that several countries besides us are vying to develop.”

Abbie frowned. “I would have agreed to help if he was only an ordinary boy from Baltimore. Am I the only one who realizes he’s still just a kid?”

Sarah stored her hairbrush. She was silent as she twisted around to draw back her blanket. “No, you’re not the only one, Abbie. It’s easier for us to function if we maintain our objectivity, especially in a situation like this. We have to focus on the mission.”

“I’ll try.”

“You’re doing fine so far.”

“I don’t seem to be doing anything.”

“That’s all you need to do for now. Just like the rest of us, we wait for the LLA to make the next move.”

“When do you think that will happen?”

“It should be soon. With any luck we’ll have you back home within a day or two. You’ll be able to pick up where you left off.”

“I hope so.”

Sarah punched her small pillow and stretched out with a sigh. “You must be exhausted, Abbie. You should try to get some sleep. It’s going to be daylight soon.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Sure, you will. I can see your adrenaline high has already worn off. Your hands stopped shaking ten minutes ago.”

Abbie held up her fingers and saw that Sarah was right. She twisted her wrist to check her watch. She stared. That couldn’t be the correct time, could it? Where had the night gone? It seemed like only minutes ago that she’d awakened with Flynn in her arms.

Her gaze went to the canvas wall. Where was he now? Was he sleeping? Was he thinking about her?

Idiot, she told herself. She was here because of the mission. As he’d said once before, it was nothing personal. She tugged out the scrunchie she’d used for her ponytail and fluffed out her hair. She grasped the lower edge of her sweater and had started to pull it off when Sarah’s voice stopped her.

“By the way, you’d better yank the chain on that light bulb before you undress, Abbie. The way your cot’s positioned, it would throw your shadow on the wall next to the men.” She yawned. “No point yanking their chains, too.”

Abbie dropped the hem of her sweater and stood up to reach for the chain that dangled from the lightbulb. The cubicle went dim and she stumbled against the edge of her cot. Somehow she managed to get back on without tipping onto the floor.

* * *

The coffee was strong enough to dissolve a spoon, but this was all there was, so Abbie held her breath and took another swallow. She didn’t expect special treatment, and she wasn’t about to complain. Considering the lack of amenities, she was grateful to have found real coffee in a real mug rather than freeze-dried rations or cans of beans or whatever it was that soldiers in the field usually ate.

Propping her elbows on the mess table, she looked around the tent. Everyone seemed to have a job to do except her. Sarah was working at a computer. The pit-bull-like Chief Warrant Officer Esposito was fiddling with the wires that led from what looked like a small radio. Sounds of metal scraping on metal came from the far side of the tent, where she spotted the pale gleam of Rafe Marek’s hair as he bent over some kind of machinery. Other men came and went, saying a few words to her or nodding courteously as they passed by, but no one stopped.

Normally, at this hour on a Saturday morning, Abbie would be reading the paper while she took her time over a second cup of coffee. She’d planned to go to the library today, since her books were due. She’d also planned to work on the crib blanket she was knitting for Ellie’s baby shower. This would be her sister’s third child. Ellie was only twenty-seven, but she and her husband, Tomasz, hadn’t wanted to wait to start their family. Their first had been born nine months after their wedding night.

Abbie’s older sister, Martha, had needed Caesareans with both of her sons and had no intention of having any more. She spent most of her weekends shuttling her boys from piano lessons to soccer practice or whatever new activity had caught their attention. She often joked it was the only way she could escape from the chaos of her husband’s never-ending renovating projects, but anyone could see that she and Barry were as deeply in love now as they had been ten years ago.

Abbie and her sisters had learned by example what a good marriage was like. Their parents had weathered more than thirty-five years of life as a team. They were both strong, competent individuals on their own, yet together they became more. It wasn’t surprising that Abbie had hoped to find the same for herself someday.

Sarah had said that the military was her family. Was it the same for the other soldiers of Eagle Squadron? Only three of the men Abbie had met so far had been wearing wedding rings: Chief Warrant Officer Esposito, the sergeant named Lang and Major Redinger. Were the rest of the men unmarried because of the demands of being a Delta Force commando?

Or was it because the type of man who was drawn to becoming a Delta Force commando preferred to remain unmarried? With the excitement and danger that filled their lives, settling down to a home in the suburbs would seem tame. Someone like Flynn would have too much testosterone to be a good candidate for domestication.

On the other hand, he’d be an excellent candidate for stud service. Just think of the beautiful babies he would make—

Abbie choked on her coffee. She set the mug down on the table and pushed to her feet.

“Are you okay?”

She started. For a large man, Flynn could move in complete silence when he wanted to. She hadn’t heard him approach, even though she’d been watching for him.

Yes, there was no point denying it, she’d been watching for him. He’d been the first person she’d looked for when she’d emerged from the cubicle at the back of the tent, and why shouldn’t she? He was the one who had brought her here, he was her link to her normal life.

He was also far more effective than even this dissolve-a-spoon coffee when it came to kick-starting her pulse.

Damn. She knew better than this, didn’t she?

“Abbie?” He put his palm between her shoulder blades and rubbed gently. “Do you want some water?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She turned to face him. She cleared her throat and kept her gaze on his shirt. He was wearing pale-blue chambray today. A few fine, dark hairs showed at the base of his throat where he’d left the top button open. “Has there been any news?”

He shook his head. “Nothing from the LLA. We did get a call from Ambassador Vilyas.”

“The poor man. He must be beside himself with worry by now.”

“Yeah, he’s strung out. He said he wants to meet you.”

“Of course. When?”

“Now.”

That was something else that was different between her normal life and Flynn’s world, Abbie thought. There was no room for hesitation here. When these Delta Force soldiers decided to do something, they simply did it. It spoke of the confidence they had in themselves, that straight-ahead self-assurance that seemed to color every action.

Like the way Flynn kissed.

Abbie’s gaze rose to his chin. He must have just finished shaving. There was no beard stubble to darken the lines beside his mouth. She caught a whiff of lime aftershave and the earthy freshness that was pure Flynn.

“In case anyone asks why you’re at the embassy, keep the lies simple,” he said. “Say your class is doing a project on Ladavia.”

Lies. Right. That’s what Flynn was good at. “Wouldn’t the embassy staff know about the kidnapping?”

“Someone had to have tipped the LLA to the kid’s movements before the snatch,” Flynn said. “Vilyas doesn’t want to trust anyone except the immediate members of his family. He’s afraid there could be terrorist sympathizers at the embassy.”

“How awful.”

“If he could trust his people, Delta Force wouldn’t have become involved in this in the first place,” he said. “We’ll be taking my bike this time, so you’ll need a jacket. Did you pack one?”

“Yes, I did, but why would we take your motorcycle again?” she asked. She wasn’t accustomed to traveling by motorcycle. The men of her acquaintance used more sensible, conservative modes of transportation, something that would hold a child safety seat. Like the boxy Volvo station wagon Peter Hedgeworth drove when he picked up Bradley from school. “Why can’t we use that van you were driving yesterday?”

“That was so we could carry your suitcase.” He started toward the cubicle she and Sarah shared. “We’ll be meeting Vilyas at the embassy, so we’re being highly visible in case anyone’s watching.”

She hurried to catch up. “I don’t understand.”

“This would have been the next logical step if Vilyas had contacted you himself. You’d be expected to meet him in person.”

“Then wouldn’t I be going there on my own?”

He held aside the canvas door and waited while she retrieved her jacket. “You’re not going anywhere without me, Abbie. It’s my duty to ensure your safety while you’re on this mission. Until it’s over, consider me your shadow.”

She didn’t like the tickle of pleasure she felt at his words. She frowned as she put on her jacket and followed him back across the tent. It was his duty to stay with her, nothing more.

“Do you have a problem with that?” he asked.

Of course she did. But this was about the child, not Flynn, she reminded herself yet again. “I don’t have a problem as long as you understand our relationship isn’t personal.”

He stopped walking and faced her. “And by that you mean…?”

She might as well clear this up now. She should have cleared it up before they’d left her apartment. “I don’t want to repeat what happened the other night.”

“Check. No kissing or fooling around in bed. Got it.”

The blunt comment startled her into meeting his gaze.

He was watching her intently, his eyes gleaming. “Did I misunderstand what you were referring to?”

“No, you understood perfectly.”

“Too bad. I enjoyed kissing you and being in your bed. I think you enjoyed it, too.”

“That’s beside the point.”

He smiled. “I disagree. Mutual pleasure would
be
the point. It’s what men and women were made for.”

“That’s a cynical way of looking at it. There should be far more to a relationship than just a physical attraction.”

“But think of how boring things would be without one.” He stroked the pad of his thumb along her jaw. “You did like it, Abbie, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are you involved with someone else?”

“No.”

“No? How can a woman with so much passion and such…interesting dreams be alone?”

She tipped her head away from his touch. “Spare me the charm, Flynn. I’m immune.”

His smile faded. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just say you’re not my type.”

He looked startled.

She felt a stirring of resentment. Both at him and at her persistent reaction to him. “Why does that surprise you? Are you accustomed to having women swoon every time you flash your dimples?”

“I didn’t think you’d noticed my dimples.”

“Just because I’m not interested doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“Then what kind of man is your type?”

Her reply was immediate. “A history buff who likes kids, drives a station wagon and lives in the suburbs.”

“Sounds exciting. Have you picked out your china pattern and the names for your firstborn yet?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did that eight years ago, not that who I want or what I want or the details about my love life are any of your business.” She paused, finally aware that her voice had risen. She glanced around. Sarah and several of the men had turned toward them and were regarding them with interest. She pressed her lips together. She was abashed. It wasn’t like her to lose her temper.

Flynn scowled at the other soldiers and took Abbie’s arm to guide her toward the entrance of the tent. He lifted the flap and led her into the warehouse.

A bird chirped and fluttered among the steel rafters that supported the roof. Sunshine poked through the windows under the eaves, making streaks through the dust motes that floated in the air. After the cramped quarters of the tent, the sudden spaciousness was a relief. Abbie took a few quick breaths to clear her head.

Flynn nodded to the man who was standing by the warehouse door, then helped Abbie over the bundle of electric cables on the floor and walked toward the relative privacy of the row of vehicles that were parked along one wall. He stopped beside his bike, let go of her arm and turned to face her. “You’re right,” he said.

“What?”

“It isn’t any of my business. I’m sorry.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Flynn. I shouldn’t have.”

He shrugged. “No problem. Many of my closest friends regularly tell me to shut up.”

“We seem to have gotten off the topic.”

“As I recall you were saying our relationship isn’t personal.”

“It isn’t.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and regarded her in silence for a while. “Fine, it won’t be,” he said. “Not as long as I’m on duty.”

“What does that mean?”

“I won’t pretend that I don’t find you attractive, Abbie. I do. I enjoy looking at you and touching you.”

What could she say? She’d wanted him to be honest, didn’t she? “Flynn…”

“But that’s beside the point. Whatever else you might think of me, I’m a soldier first and foremost. My priority is always the mission.”

The mission. The innocent, seven-year-old boy named Matteo. Abbie sighed. “That’s my priority, too.”

“If you truly object to my presence, we can talk to the major and have someone else assigned to escort you.” He paused as he continued to look at her. “But I hope you don’t. When I’m given an order, I carry it out. I don’t like to fail.”

He was offering her an out. Yet considering what was at stake here, it would be petty to take it. What could she tell Major Redinger? That Flynn was too handsome and charming to work with? That he found her attractive, and she found him attractive, but ever since her affair with Stuart she’d had a serious hang-up about sex? “I won’t object,” she said. “I think we’ve got things straightened out.”

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