King opened the door of the hut and stepped in lightly. He lowered his rifle as he noticed Allie still slept. He took a moment to track her breathing, and it was clear to him that her fever had broken.
Her breathing was slow, deep, and even, not the shallower fever-induced sleep of the past twenty-four hours. King had been there the entire time, struggling to keep her from giving in to the infection.
He’d forced her to drink when she rose from the sleep; then he’d given her antibiotic shots as the doctor had instructed him.
She turned to him instinctively for protection and care. Somewhere over the past day, he’d lost a bit more of himself to her. She’d talked in her delirium, ranting soliloquies about her love for her father and her job, and her conflicting feelings for…King.
Now she seemed to be on the mend. Her wound was healing rapidly, and he could only thank whatever divine entity was watching over them that it was.
King placed his rifle in the corner, walked to the bed, leaned down, and checked her pulse and respiration again. When he felt safe that she was sleeping normally, he headed to the small bath and showered.
He’d just put his clothes on when her voice rang out. “Hello?”
He rubbed his chest, barely checking the action. Small, lost…vulnerable. She reminded him of a child in that second.
It made the other thoughts running through his mind feel dirty.
“King?”
He closed his eyes, pulled on his T-shirt, and walked to her.
“I’m here. You decided to wake up, huh?”
Her gaze met his, and her relief was palpable. She smiled weakly and tried to sit up.
“Here, let me help you,” he said as he came over her. “You’ve only got Steri-Strips closing that wound, so let’s be careful, yeah?”
She stared up at him, confusion carving a path across her face before her lips pulled down. He didn’t like that look on her.
King traced her lips, meeting her gaze. “You thirsty?”
She continued to gaze up at him and finally nodded.
He snagged a bottle of water and returned to her, holding it up to her lips.
“You tried to drown me last time, if I remember correctly,” she mumbled before she took the bottle in shaking hands and drank long and deep.
King almost moaned when she pulled the water away and licked her lower lip. She was a mess, hair all over the place where it wasn’t stuck to her face and skin, and she didn’t smell all that heavenly, but underneath the sweat, there was something that was quintessentially Allie.
“I didn’t try to drown you,” he said quietly. “I’ve got bigger plans for you.”
Her pale cheeks colored, and he didn’t know if it was with anger or intrigue, but he wanted to find out.
“How long?” she asked.
“You’ve been down a day. How are you feeling?”
She winced as she tried again to push up. “A little sore. Nothing too bad. Like you said, a skid mark.”
He chuckled, but he leaned down to lift her gently. This put her face in his neck, and her warm breath slid under his shirt. He shivered.
King never shivered, yet he refused to look too deeply into it. Now wasn’t the time.
Once she was settled, he lifted away and walked back to the refrigerator to grab another bottle of water.
He placed it on the small table beside the bed and then walked to the other side of the hut, staring out a window into the night.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He shrugged. He’d resolved to feel nothing for her as she lay there recovering. King rubbed his eyes with one hand and twisted the bullet in his pocket with the other. It was a hard realization that no matter how much he fought to feel nothing for her, it was a losing battle.
“King?”
He refused to look at her. “Yeah?”
“I think you should just let me go with Lo-Lo. She can get me—”
He whirled around and held up a hand. “No.” No way in hell. Loretta stank of subterfuge. While Allie was in his care, she’d not go near Loretta Bernstein.
“But—”
“I said no.”
Her mouth fell open, and her gaze narrowed. Frail but no less powerful, she was gorgeous in her pique. “I have rights, damn it.”
“Yeah—right here, right now, you’re under my rule and I’m a dictator, baby. Time to man up. I’m in charge and where I go, you go, until I take you back to Daddy.” King intentionally kept his voice low.
She didn’t respond, and King was grateful for that.
Time for playing was over. She’d been shot, and he was in the midst of something much bigger than he’d realized.
Over the course of the last day, while she’d lain there dead to the world, he’d been ferreting out some truths. Loretta had been a reluctant font of information. She’d visited once more and brought information King would rather not have had.
Someone had placed Allie Redding directly in his path, and they’d done it intentionally. Some murky source had dropped her in Endgame’s lap, knowing her connection to Gray Broemig and knowing King would be the one in Cameroon to meet up with the mythical courier. As far as King knew, that source could be Loretta. He had Jude working on that angle, though he hadn’t heard back from him yet. If she’d been the one, she was in deep with Dresden. The biggest fear King had now was that Dresden’s men were gunning to take out Allie, himself, or both of them.
He’d been unable to contact Jude again. His man had gone completely off-grid, which while not worrisome to King, wasn’t the best thing for all parties involved. Especially now that King had irrefutable proof that Ella Banning was alive. Loretta had shown him the video while Allie had been out, and it was clear that Ella had left that site in Beirut hurt but very much alive. King didn’t necessarily believe Loretta’s assertion that Ella was a pawn. He’d seen the look of loss on her face as she stared at the downed chopper, but he’d also witnessed her look of betrayal when Dresden shot her.
But she had definitely left alive. And if she was alive maybe, just maybe she knew who the hell was gunning for Endgame Ops. The trick now would be finding her. How would Jude react when he found out? How would King tell Jude that the woman he’d loved so deeply might never have been on their side at all?
Ella, Ella, Ella… A lot of roads led back to the woman who’d seemingly betrayed them all.
“What’s going on, King?” Allie asked.
His neck tightened as he played with the bullet in his pocket. He should share some truths. Maybe then she’d realize the danger she was in and be more agreeable to following his lead. He almost snorted. The woman could teach stubborn to a mule. “I want you to call your father.”
“Okay,” she responded hesitantly. “Can you tell me what’s going on first?”
He crossed back to the bed and lowered himself onto the same chair where he’d slept for two nights, except when he’d wrapped himself around her. Comfort, he’d told himself. Purely for comfort and to keep her from thrashing about and opening her wound. “I’m not sure where to start, and before I begin, I need you to call your father.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so, Allie. You have to learn now that if you’re going to make it out of this shit alive, you have to do what I say, when I say to do it.”
She cocked her head. “Okay.”
A single word of accession, and his anger evaporated. “Do you feel like a shower first?”
She smiled slightly, nose wrinkling, the lines of her mouth shaking for a moment before she straightened her face and nodded. “I can smell myself. A shower might be heaven.”
“Let’s get you into one then.” He helped her up, her already-tiny frame made more so by nearly two days without solid food.
She sagged against him once she made it to her feet. King closed his eyes and took a deep, controlling breath. Having her curves pressed against him felt too good. Way too good.
He put his hands on her shoulder and pulled away slightly. “I changed your bandage earlier, but we need to wrap some plastic around your middle so the Steri-Strips don’t get wet.”
She nodded.
He moved with her slowly to the bathroom. Her legs were shaky at first, but with each step, she grew in strength. One step up into the bathroom, and she groaned. The sound was a knife in his heart.
He should have killed all those men back at the safe house. And then run over their carcasses with the Rover.
“Sit down,” he ordered her as he lowered the toilet seat. She did, and he pulled the plastic wrap Loretta had brought him from the bag beside the sink. “Lift your shirt for me.”
Her cheeks pinkened, making him want to trace that color all the way down to her chest and farther. She did as he asked though.
“Looks like my hands are going back under your shirt, Miz Redding,” he teased.
Her lips quirked. “Ha, ha, ha, very funny. Still not the way I envisioned it.”
“Me either,” he murmured.
Her smooth, ivory flesh called to him. Every time he changed her bandages, he forced himself to be quick lest her curves tempt him more. She was awake now though, and if his gaze roved over the bottom curve of her breast, across her ribs, and lower to the enticing slope of her hips, well, he was only human. Emphasis on man.
He pulled long pieces of wrap off and wound them around her torso until he was satisfied no water could saturate the bandage beneath.
A lingering touch at the top of her hipbone, right above the string of her bikini underwear (Loretta had brought her killer panties), and he was satisfied for the moment. He lowered her shirt and let his gaze rise to meet hers.
She knew what he’d done. Her breathing was shallow again, and his heart stopped. It was there in her eyes…need.
She unraveled him. He was discovering he only had so much control around her.
It was unacceptable.
He rose quickly and stepped back. “Towels are right there, soap and shampoo are in the shower. I’ll be right out in the hall if you need me.”
She nodded and licked her lips.
King made it to the hallway before he adjusted his hard dick. His cargoes were comfortable but not with a brickbat in them.
It took her a while, and his ears catalogued every sound she made. He realized she was a proud woman who didn’t want to call for help. Or maybe she didn’t want him seeing her completely naked.
He wondered if the sight of Allie’s naked body would eclipse his fantasies. He heard the water falling and wondered what she’d look like bathed in moonlight. How he envied the water. How he wanted to sip it from her flesh!
Jesus, he was in trouble.
He needed to find a woman before they left here. As soon as the thought formed, he rejected it. For some reason, the thought of slaking this crazy need with another woman felt wrong.
But he couldn’t have her. She was too good for a killer. She was too good for Kingston McNally.
The shower cut off, and he heard her drying off slowly. God, it was torture listening to the sound of her dressing.
“King?” she called.
He stepped to the doorway immediately. “Yeah?”
“I’m hungry,” she said with a grin.
She’d pulled her wet hair into a ponytail. Her face was brighter than he’d seen it, and the smile curving her lips made him lick his own.
Her gaze arrowed to the action, and her eyes darkened.
“Stop,” she whispered.
“Stop what?”
“That,” she said as she pointed to his lips.
He let it hang there between them—the want. It was an impossible thing. Nothing could happen. This lust was a result of their circumstances and adrenaline. He was going to tell himself that until he believed it.
She cleared her throat, and his mind focused with the sound. He grunted as he offered her his arm. “So the lady says she’s hungry.”
She tentatively placed her hand on his arm, and he hissed in a breath at the contact.
“I am indeed,” she said with a small laugh.
He led her to a small table and placed the makings for a sandwich, along with some chips and a Coke, in front of her.
She raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“Isn’t this a resort?”
He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Don’t do that,” she murmured.
Confusion swam through him. “Do what?”
“Never mind,” she responded in a long-suffering tone.
He shook it off. “Yes, it’s a resort, but I’ve warned everyone away from this hut.”
“Ahhh, yes, the games haven’t stopped just because I was grazed by an enemy bullet, right?”
He nodded and took the seat opposite her. King watched her eat, waiting patiently for her to finish. It didn’t take her long. A few bites, some chips, an entire Coca-Cola, and she was done.
“You’ve gotta eat more than that,” he admonished.
She rubbed her belly, careful to stay away from her side. “Can’t. Speaking of enemies, how about you tell me what’s going on.”
He pulled out her sat phone and slid it across the table to her. “Call your dad.”
“I really hate it when you do that,” she bit out.
“Just call your dad.”
She picked up the phone, punched a single number, and held the phone up, all while glaring at him.
He smiled.
She frowned.
He thought it a microcosm of their entire association so far.
Her face cleared just then, and the smile that lit her face had his mouth falling open. Goddamn, she was beautiful. He suddenly wanted her to smile like that for him.
“Dad?”