WAR: Intrusion (23 page)

“I’m sooooo impressed with your flying skills.”

Dev snorted with laughter and both Obi and JC snickered.

Marcus’s entire face turned red. He swiveled his head toward Lachlan and Tony. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but the one-fingered salute he aimed at his teammates made it clear that he knew who to blame for Helen’s effusive praise, and that there would be payback.

Levine, meanwhile, seemed mighty preoccupied with his console, but the corner of his mouth quirked up as he fought not to smile.

With one more pat on Marcus’s shoulder, Helen turned around and gave Lachlan and the rest of the team a wink. After all she’d been through, it amazed Lachlan that she could still find her sense of humor. Warmth expanded inside his chest, melting another section of the wall of icy distrust he’d built between them.

Aye, he was really starting to like this woman.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

New
Accra

The Republic of the Volta

West Africa

HELEN
SAT AT the two-person table in the kitchen of the three-room safe house in the capital, nursing a cup of instant coffee and trying to calm her mind. When they’d arrived a few hours ago, Lachlan had explained that this place was part of a small cluster of bungalows that had once been used as vacation rentals. His teammates were staying in the other bungalows and Helen had to admit she was relieved not to have to share this cozy space with strangers.

“How are you doing, lass?”

Speak of the devil. Helen looked up as Lachlan entered the kitchen, which was nothing more than a space marked off by a low half-wall and containing a refrigerator, a stove, and this table.

Helen drank in the sight of Lachlan. He’d shaved. Without his few days growth of beard the sharp planes of his face stood out, adding to the impression that this was a harsh man. Yet she’d discovered that he was also capable of acts of surprising tenderness. The gentle way he’d pulled up her blanket yesterday morning when it had slipped to reveal her bare shoulder. The careful way he’d held her on the helicopter when he’d noticed her head bobbing in exhaustion. His shoulder had been a surprisingly comfortable pillow and the next thing she’d known, he’d been shaking her awake after they’d touched down.

“How’s Jacobs?” He’d been whisked away as soon as they landed.

“Doing well now that they have him on fluids. Lance, our medic, says Tony would be in bad shape if not for your excellent care. He’d work with you any day.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “I was just doing my job.”

“Perhaps, but Lance doesn’t hand out praise to just anyone.” He gave her a pointed look. “You still haven’t told me how you’re doing.”

“My head still hurts a bit, but I’m fine.” Dr. LaSalle had stopped by after they’d arrived and examined her wounds. He’d declared her both well and lucky. There was nothing she needed except rest, food, and time.

As Dr. LaSalle had moved over to check out Lachlan—yes, he apparently had no problem letting Dr. LaSalle tend to him—she’d overheard Dr. LaSalle talking to Lachlan. He’d said something about how around the men of war, women tended to get hurt. Lachlan had glanced at her and scowled.

“I heard you talking in the middle of the night,” Lachlan said, pulling her attention back to the present.

“I—” She didn’t know why she hesitated to admit her actions of last night. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Except… She shook her head.
Stop comparing yourself to Lachlan or Jacobs. Just because they’re macho tough guys who downplay their injuries doesn’t mean Lachlan will think less of you for admitting that you aren’t doing so well.

She glanced down at her coffee and took a fortifying sip. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No worries.” Instead of repeating the question, he moved past her to fill the kettle and set it on the electric burner.

“I couldn’t sleep last night because of nightmares, so I called a friend who’s a mental health counselor.” The words rushed out of her, then hung in the air between them.

“Ah. I’m sorry, lass.” He nodded at her, then poured the hot water over the tea bag he’d placed in a mug. “Was your friend able to help you?”

“Yes. Enough that I was able to fall back asleep.” Tamlyn was one of those rare friends Helen could call up at any time, day or night, and no matter how long it had been since they’d last spoken, the comfortable rhythm of their friendship returned as if they’d just taken a break ten minutes before. “Tamlyn had heard about the destruction of my clinic on the news. The media indicated that no one knew what had happened to me, so she was relieved to know I’m okay.”

“Aye. Since you’re a known target of Natchaba, we think it’s best if your survival is kept as quiet as possible for the time being.”

Helen shook her head in disbelief. “I still find it hard to understand why anyone would want me dead. Let alone Mr. Natchaba, who I thought was a friend, of sorts.” She sighed. “The world certainly looks a lot different today than it did last week.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Lachlan said, carrying his mug over to the table and sitting across from her. The space wasn’t intended for a man of his size and he had to sit with his legs bracketing hers. Her physical awareness of him, never far from the surface, burst into a wave of heat that spread through her veins. Helen hid her blush by taking a long swallow from her mug.

I’d rather have his mouth against mine than this mug. He’d be hotter, and tastier, than this lukewarm, watery imitation of coffee.

“Mr. Natchaba likely targeted you because you’re a foreigner,” Lachlan said.

Okay. Business. Right. “But… Why would he offer me a loan if he intended to destroy me and the clinic?”

“Perhaps the promise of the grand opening was the only reason the dignitaries would come to that region, even given the festival.”

“You think he used the clinic as bait?”

“It’s a possibility, aye.”

“That’s cold.” She stared into her mug. “But then, the man who ordered the attacks on the festival and on the village lacked all compassion. Mr. Natchaba just hid his true nature exceedingly well.”

“Which is why we need your help identifying him. Are you up to working with the sketch artist today?”

“Yes. Would it also help for me to show you his lawyer’s office? I have the address on my phone.” She shrugged. “I need something to do to keep me occupied until my meeting with Gloria and Mrs. N’Dorah, the founder of Layla’s Foundation, later today.” Once she’d arrived at the safe house yesterday, Helen had put in a quick call to Gloria to let her boss know she was alive. All of her sorrow had welled back up as she’d given Gloria a quick summary of events. As soon as Helen had finished the call, she’d locked herself in the bedroom and cried herself to sleep.

To her surprise, when she’d woken up there’d been a small stack of women’s clothing on the chair in the corner of the bedroom. She’d thrown on the first item on the stack, a muumuu made from royal blue and hot pink batik cloth. With Lachlan’s presence making her acutely aware of her femininity, she wished she’d put on a t-shirt and long pants instead.

“I suspect the solicitor’s office will simply be another dead end,” Lachlan said. “Best if one of my teammates checks it out, as there’s less danger to you if it’s booby-trapped. They have another mission today, but I’ll tell them to take a quick look. If you’re looking for something to occupy your time Rene…ah…Dr. LaSalle mentioned that the villagers who survived the attack on the hospital at the regional capital were moved yesterday here to the capital. Dr. LaSalle says that there is one man who becomes so agitated in his requests to talk with you that the nurses have been forced to sedate him.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know. But I want you to understand the danger of leaving the safe house. Until Natchaba is caught, it’s likely that his men will try to eliminate you and all other survivors of the festival attack. The government has assigned guards to those survivors who have been moved to the hospitals here in the capital. Their men will be guarding Layla’s Foundation as well. As for you, you’ll not be going out without the escort of myself or one of my men.”

She closed her eyes a moment, fighting a shiver. “I still can’t wrap my mind around the idea that Mr. Natchaba is after me specifically.” She opened her eyes and looked around the sunny kitchen that barely had enough room for the two of them to move about. “This place is truly safe?”

“There’s never a guarantee, but it’s highly unlikely that they’ll find you here. Security in the capital is tighter since the government pushed the rebels out after their attack several months ago.” Lachlan glanced at the clock. “We’re to meet the sketch artist at the police station in an hour. After, I’ll take you to visit with the man in hospital.”

“Okay.” She stood up at the same time Lachlan did. The space was so tight between her chair and the wall that she leaned forward to keep her balance. The position put Lachlan’s mouth within kissing distance.

As the heat rose in her again, she stared at his lips. Would it really be so wrong to kiss him? Yes, she was feeling emotionally fragile right now, but human contact was a normal form of reassurance. And Lachlan wasn’t the monster she’d originally thought him.

“Lass,” he groaned. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She bit her lip and glanced up. Oh. My. His storm cloud eyes had turned to molten mercury.

He closed the distance between them, allowing her to see the flecks of darker gray in his eyes. “As if you want to devour me.”

“Maybe I do,” she whispered.

He stroked her cheek. “No, lass, you don’t even like me, remember? I’m the man who committed torture.” Regret replaced the heat in his eyes and he stepped back from her. “You’re still reeling from all that’s happened. I won’t take advantage of you.”

She frowned. He was right about one thing. Her feelings for him were so complicated that kissing him would only make their relationship more confusing. Yet after today, she didn’t know if she’d ever see him again. So when he moved as if to skirt the end of the table and walk away, she blocked his path. Rising up on her toes, she grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss.

He remained unyielding as she pressed her mouth against his. Trying to get him to open up, she slid her tongue along the seam of his lips. Damn him, why couldn’t he just give her—

On a wrenching groan, Lachlan’s arms encircled her. His tongue invaded her mouth. She gasped in pleasure, welcoming him inside. His kiss was everything she’d remembered. Powerful. Aggressive. He took her mouth with a hunger that stole her breath and caused her legs to tremble, forcing her to grab onto his shoulders to steady herself.

He cradled the back of her head in one of his large hands, tilting her slightly to the side so he could take the kiss deeper. His other hand slid down her spine to rest at the curve of her lower back. He pressed her against his arousal and her blood ignited. She moaned and writhed against him, needing closer contact to anchor her as the world spun out of control.

“Er. Sorry, Commander. Didn’t know you were occupied.”

Helen squeaked and tried to pull back. But Lachlan simply cut his eyes toward his teammate, then took his time breaking the kiss. Helen stared into Lachlan’s passion-darkened eyes. Her entire body tingled, wanting more. Yet as the seconds ticked by, Lachlan regained control of his expression, until the calm warrior was back. “What d’you want, Dev?” The growl in his voice was the only remaining sign of his passion.

Unable to lock away her own arousal so easily, Helen dropped her gaze. She gathered up her breakfast dishes and took them over to the indoor sink to wash, trying to ignore Lachlan’s blond teammate smirking at them from the doorway. Why couldn’t Dev have stayed in his own bungalow for a few more minutes?

Oh, no. That would have been worse. You’d have soon been naked if Dev hadn’t interrupted.

After speaking quietly with the other man, Lachlan said, “I need to call in to headquarters. Then we’ll head over to the police station.”

She nodded. Her blood still sang, but at least her cheeks had cooled. Still, she felt relief when the men went into the small sitting room where Lachlan had slept last night. Wondering what he looked like asleep, whether he lost any of his ferocity or remained vigilant even when sleeping, she had to admit that yes, her initial projection had been correct.

Kissing Lachlan had definitely complicated matters between them.

More frightening, the kiss had pushed her over a line into territory she wasn’t prepared to explore. She had enough uncertainty in her life without adding to it the possibility that she might actually want a relationship with this complex, violent warrior who just a few days ago she’d never wanted to see again.

WAR
Headquarters

The Democratic Republic of the Ivory Coast

West Africa

“
WE
HAVE SOME new information you need to be aware of,” Kristoff said when Lachlan next reported in. He felt a twinge of sympathy as Lachlan muttered a string of Gaelic curses. Lachlan had barely had time to catch his breath these past few days, and Kris knew Lach was frustrated at not being closer to locating and stopping Natchaba.

“What?” Lachlan demanded when he stopped cursing.

“First, we lost the signal on the rebel vehicle you stuck that tracker on. I’ve sent Lars the coordinates. It disappeared into a heavily forested area near a shallow ridge.”

“Sounds perfect for hiding a training camp.”

“Exactly. When Marcus is finished with his current mission, he’ll fly your guys up to look around. I assume you’re staying to guard Dr. Kirk?”

“Aye.”

Technically, Lachlan’s mission hadn’t changed. He was supposed to be looking for those weapons. But Kris felt that Natchaba wasn’t through with Dr. Kirk. Anticipating another attack, Kris had no problem using Dr. Kirk as bait as long as Lachlan was there to keep her alive.

“What’s the rest of your news?” Lachlan asked.

“Remember the incident Wil told us about before you left on assignment?”