Grace leaned her head back as Declan brushed his lips across hers and then blazed a path along her cheek and down the long line of her neck to the base.
Her pulse beat hard and fast as he flicked his tongue across her collarbone, sweeping the straps of her nightgown over her shoulders and down her arms.
She shrugged, letting the slippery fabric slide farther downward, stopping as it caught on the swells of her breasts. She wanted to be free of the gown, free of all clothing, exposed to his tongue, fingers and any other part of his body that might come into contact with hers.
Her core tightened and a rush of hot liquid slicked her channel in anticipation of what would come.
She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and guided his mouth lower, toward her aching breasts. She wanted him to take them, to roll the nipples between his teeth, to tongue their tight little buds until she squirmed.
He didn’t disappoint. As he trailed his lips lower, she inhaled, raising her chest, offering him more in the movement.
He covered one taut nipple with his mouth through the fabric and tongued the tip.
Grace moaned and circled his leg with her thigh. Pressing her belly to the thick, straining shaft between them.
One coarse hand tugged on the nightgown, dragging it over first one swell and then the other. Free of the speed bumps, the gown drifted to the floor, pooling around her ankles.
Declan cupped her breasts as if weighing them in the palms of his hands. Then he took one into his mouth and sucked, pulling hard, drawing a gasp from her lips.
He let go and lifted his head, a frown descending across his brow. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, barely able to draw air into her lungs. “No,” she said. “Don’t stop.” Grace guided his head back to where he’d been, desperate to again feel the sensations he’d elicited. Her blood hummed through her veins, and heat spread from her center all the way out to her fingertips. She wanted this stranger more than she wanted to breathe.
Declan took the other breast between his lips and tongued, sucked and flicked the nipple until Grace writhed beneath his touch. How could something feel so good but not be enough? She wanted more.
When he raised his head, Declan’s gaze bore into hers. “I want you, Grace. All of you.”
“Nothing’s stopping you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her lungs unable to fill with air when he touched her like he did.
He cupped her butt cheeks and lifted her onto the bed, letting her legs dangle over the side.
Grace reached for his jeans, pushing them over his hips.
He grabbed her hands and stayed her action. “Not yet. First I want you to be as crazy as you’re making me.”
“Trust me,” she said. “I already am.”
“Sweetheart, you aren’t nearly there. I have a lot more I want to do before I come inside you.”
Her breath caught and held in her chest and her channel creamed. He had her so turned on, for the moment, she was able to think about him and not Riley.
Declan ran his hands along the insides of her thighs, gripped her knees and spread her legs wide.
Grace’s heart raced and her breathing grew ragged.
She reached for his hips, wanting him inside her. Now.
He captured her hands and turned them palms upward, placing a kiss into each palm before letting go. “I want to take you there first.”
“I’m already on fire,” she assured him.
“Then we’ll take it up a notch to incendiary.” His lips quirked as he dropped to his knees between her legs.
“Oh, sweet heaven,” Grace whispered.
Declan parted her folds with his thumbs and chuckled. His warm breath against her nubbin of desire nearly sent her over the edge. Nearly. Not quite.
A flick of his tongue made her gasp. Another flick got the blood raging, hot like molten lava, pushing through her veins.
Grace threaded her hands through his hair and held him there. “Please,” she keened.
“Please what?” he asked and then flicked the nubbin with the tip of his tongue.
“That!” she said, her breathing compromised by the assault on her control.
“This?” he asked and flicked her again, followed by a long sweep and twirl of that incredible tongue.
“Oh, yes,” she cried. “That. Do it. Do it again.” She let go of his hair and leaned back on her hands, spreading her legs wider. He couldn’t get close enough. She had to have so much more of what he was doing to her.
As he flicked that strip of nerve-packed flesh, Declan also thumbed her entrance and dipped into the drenched channel.
Grace shot over the edge, rocketing out to the stratosphere. Her hips rocked and she clutched his head like a lifeline to keep her grounded.
Declan milked her release until her rocking slowed, then he rose between her legs, pressed his shaft to her opening and paused.
“What are you waiting for?” Grace pushed up on her elbows. “Don’t you want to make love to me?”
“More than you can imagine. But we need what we found in Riley’s nightstand.”
Reason returned in a flash. Grace reached beneath her bed pillow and extracted the condom she’d placed there before walking out of her bedroom, dressed in her sexiest nightgown. She hadn’t been completely convinced Declan would make a move on her, but she’d wanted to be prepared if he had.
And thank the stars, he had made that move. Never before had she had such a complete and utterly satisfying reaction as she had at Declan’s hands...and tongue. Even her ex-husband hadn’t been able to elicit such a response. Far from satiated, she wasn’t done. She knew he could bring her even more pleasure.
She held up the condom for a moment and then tore it open, rolled it down over his straining shaft and clutched his buttocks. “Please don’t make me wait any longer.”
He pressed the tip of his shaft against her entrance, barely dipping in and out.
Her control slipping, Grace tightened her hold on his cheeks and slammed him home.
Declan drove deep, filling her, stretching her channel deliciously.
Grace lifted her knees, dug her heels into the mattress and raised her hips, meeting Declan thrust for thrust.
He powered in and out of her, settling into a fast, smooth rhythm, increasing the speed and intensity with each pass.
Again, Grace felt the tingling begin at her center and flood outward, vibrating through her body to the very tips of her fingers and toes. She dug her fingernails into his flesh, urging him to join her in her release.
His body tensed and his thrusts became more powerful until he finally buried himself inside her as deeply as he could go and held steady, his shaft pulsing inside her.
When at last she could breathe again, Grace slowly drifted back to earth and the mattress.
Declan dropped down on top of her, his body limp, his erection still thick and hard inside of her. He rolled them both onto their sides, without losing that intimate connection. For a long moment, he held her in his arms, the silence between them comforting, not awkward.
Grace closed her eyes and snuggled her cheek against his chest. She inhaled the musky scent of his aftershave and sighed. This was what she’d been missing in her marriage.
Pure, unchecked passion.
Declan had it in spades.
Grace realized, from that day forward, she would refuse to accept anything less. She wanted more than just doing it every Friday night on schedule.
Declan had seen to her needs and desires before he’d slaked his own. He gave a damn whether she was satisfied. Her ex-husband hadn’t cared enough about her sexual preferences.
She lay in the comfort of Declan’s arms and wished she could be there for much more than just the one night.
The truth was that once they found Riley, Declan would be on to his next assignment. After only one day with the man, Grace knew he’d be leaving a new and gaping hole in her love life. More of a hole than the five years with her ex-husband had created.
She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she realized was that something was buzzing and she couldn’t seem to wake enough to figure out how to make it stop. She pushed against a solid wall of muscles and sat up in bed, blinking her eyes to clear the sleep from them. At last, she was able to locate the source of the buzzing and lifted her cell phone.
She didn’t recognize the number, but figured anyone who called her that late at night might be in an emergency situation.
Or it could be Riley.
She hit the talk button and held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Did he find my file?” Riley’s voice came over the cell phone.
“Riley.” Grace clutched the phone like a lifeline. “Where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. But I can’t talk long. Did the guy who broke into our apartment find my file box?”
“How did you know about the break-in?” Grace asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Riley said. “Did he find my file box?”
“No. Declan scared him off before he got to your bedroom. We found a key in your bank file.”
“Oh, sweet heaven. Good. Take that key to the bank tomorrow and remove the contents of my safe-deposit box. I’ll contact you tomorrow. Don’t tell anyone what you have. If possible, disguise yourself before going into the bank. They’re probably already watching you.”
“They? They who?” Grace wanted to know.
“I don’t know. That’s the problem. Get to the bank, retrieve the envelope in my safe-deposit box and hang on to it until I contact you. It’s important. The sooner I get it to the right people, the sooner I can come home.”
“Riley, what’s happening?” Grace asked.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry you got dragged into this. Please stay safe.”
“Where are you?” Grace asked. “Let me come get you.”
The line was dead...and the call ended. Riley was gone.
Tears welled in Grace’s eyes and slipped down her cheeks. “Oh, Riley, what’s happening?”
Declan’s arms circled her and pulled her back against his rock-solid chest. He held her while the tears fell, comforting her in the darkness.
When her tears were spent, she turned in his arms and rested her palm against his cheek. “Thank you for being here. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
He kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose. “You’d have been just fine.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t have to be alone. Not when you’re here.” She pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss.
He cupped the back of her head and deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting past her teeth to caress the length of hers.
When the kiss ended, he continued to hold her, demanding nothing but giving all the comfort she needed.
If only Riley was safe and back in her home, where she belonged, perhaps life could return to normal.
Who was she trying to kid?
Nothing would be the same again, not after having experienced a night in Declan’s arms.
* * *
DECLAN HELD RILEY close as she slipped into a deep sleep, her breathing steady, her body relaxed against his. If he were any kind of a gentleman, he’d leave the bed, tuck Grace in and go sleep on the couch. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t want to leave her alone for a second. Not only for her sake, but because of his own desires. He was a selfish bastard.
How, in less than two days, had he fallen completely under this woman’s spell?
He’d been homeless, jobless and pretty hopeless before he’d met Grace and Charlie. Now he had an amazing woman in his arms and a problem he had to solve before he could prove to this woman, his family, his new boss and mostly himself that he was worthy of all that had fallen into his lap.
Getting to the bank and removing whatever it was Riley had in her safe-deposit box would be easy enough, as long as the people who’d been after Riley and whatever it was she wanted them to get weren’t lying in wait to snatch the item, Riley or Grace. He was pretty sure he could handle one or two attackers, but any more than that would be risky. And he didn’t want to risk the lives of Grace or Riley.
His arm tightened around Grace’s naked body and his shaft hardened instantly. Though he wanted to make love to her again, he knew how much she needed her sleep.
Smoothing a hand across her brow, Declan tucked a strand of her golden-blond hair back behind her ear. Then he brushed his lips across hers. They were so soft and kissable. He fought to control the rise of passion, which was threatening to overwhelm him.
With all the strength he could muster, Declan settled back in the bed, closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.
Dreams came to him of that small village in Afghanistan.
* * *
CHILDREN PLAYED IN the dirt in front of their mud-and-stick homes.
He and his team had been to the village earlier that day on a mission to build goodwill between the tribal elders and the American troops that were stationed nearby. They’d also been in the village, scouting for potential infiltrators. The intel community had sent word that the village was harboring a high-powered Taliban leader in their midst.
On that day, Declan and his team hadn’t seen any sign of the Taliban, only poor villagers, consisting of women, old men and children. They’d even given the children packets of MREs and a handful of candy.
The mothers had looked on with tentative smiles and softly spoken words of thanks in Dari, one of the official languages of the country.
Later that evening, back at Camp Shorab, the team played cards and joked around before turning in.
Bored of cards, Declan had risen and started for his quarters when word had come from a runner.
“The CO wants you in the ops center ASAP,” the young private said.
“Just me?” Declan had asked.
“You and your team,” the private had said.
“Coming,” Declan said. He hurried back to the card game. “We’ve been summoned.”
The team split, heading to their respective quarters, where they jumped into their uniform trousers and shrugged on jackets. In less than five minutes, they were on their way to the operations center for a briefing on their next assignment.
As he entered the tactical operations center, Declan frowned. His commander stood at the front of the room, along with a brigadier general and four other men. Three of the four men were wearing dark clothes, radio headsets and shoulder holsters with SIG Sauer handguns; they also carried M4A1 rifles with military-grade SOPMOD upgrades. The man speaking with the brigadier general wore a pair of trousers from a business suit, a white button-down shirt, a loosened tie and a bulletproof vest over all of it.
Declan got a bad feeling about the meeting. He shot a glance toward Mack Balkman, his assistant team leader.
Mack shrugged and turned to Frank “Mustang” Ford, their point man who’d arrived ahead of them. “What’s going on?”
Mustang shook his head. “I got here a minute before you. They haven’t spoken a word to me. I think they’re waiting for all six of us to assemble.”
Gus Walsh, their radio operator, had arrived at the same time as Declan and Mack. “Who’s the dude in the suit?”
Cole McCastlain stepped through the door in time to catch Gus’s question. He stared at the man in the bulletproof vest. “I don’t know, but he’s bound to be important if he comes with his own bodyguards.”
Jack Snow, their slack man and the most junior member of the team, entered, buttoning his jacket. “What did I miss?” He stared at the man in the suit and his jaw dropped. “Damn, that’s Congressman Patrick Ryan. What’s he doing here?”
Declan and the other four members of the Force Recon team stared at Snow.
“How do you know that’s Patrick Ryan?” Declan asked.
“Haven’t you been following the news? He’s been over here for the past couple of days, visiting troops and taking stock of the continued operations in this country.” Snow frowned. “Midterm elections are coming.” He tipped his head toward the man. “He’s probably trying to boost his ratings.”
At that moment, the congressman, brigadier general and their commander stopped talking and turned to face the team.
Their commander nodded. “Good. You’re all here. Take a seat, gentlemen.”
Declan didn’t like how formal the CO was. They usually stood around the map and discussed the missions. Apparently, this one would be different. They’d sit and the commander would give them their marching orders. With a brigadier general and a congressman in attendance, their input might not be appreciated.
“Intel had a confirmed sighting of Abdul Kareem Rasul, a high-powered leader of the Taliban’s secret organization, the Quetta Shura. He’s responsible for the recent attacks on four government outposts in Northern and Eastern Afghanistan, killing thirty-five Afghan security-force guards and four American soldiers. He directed the attack on the hotel in Kabul that killed twenty-two people, including four Americans. He’s also behind the bombing of the girls’ high school in Logar Province near Kabul. We’ve been looking for him for three years, but he’s been slippery, hiding in the hills and crossing into Pakistan.”
General Thomas stepped forward. “Our intelligence operatives tell us he’s in the village of Bawshi.”
“We were there today and didn’t see any sign of him,” Declan said.
The general nodded. “Our sources say he’s very careful to keep a low profile when he enters a village. They also say he has relatives in the village, which led them to look for him there.”
“The point is,” Colonel Felton said, “he’s there now. Your team is to take him out, using whatever means of force you have available. He’s considered dangerous and has already been the cause of many deaths, both Afghani and American.”
“We need you to take this man out,” General Thomas echoed. “No matter the cost. We cannot let him escape us this time.”
Declan nodded. “We’ll do our best.”
“Do better than your best,” Congressman Ryan said. “We’ve got a lot riding on this operation.”
“We’ll leave you to the details,” General Thomas said and left the room with Ryan and the congressman’s entourage.
Colonel Felton waited until the door closed behind them. “You will be equipped with helmet cameras. We’ll be monitoring the events as they unfold.”
“Great. So, we need to keep our noses clean and kill this guy at the same time.” Declan knew the stakes. With the general and the congressman involved, they would be expecting footage to take back to the States to prove their worth on the other side of the ocean. All while he and his men were supposed to go into hostile situations with their hands basically tied. Collateral damage got more airtime than Taliban takedowns.
“Just do your job and don’t let Rasul get away,” Colonel Felton said.
The team studied the map the intelligence guys had provided with a building identified as Rasul’s last known location in the village. They were to go in under the cover of night and take him out with the cameras on to record the event.
Declan had known in his gut that the mission would be difficult. A small village full of women, children and old men would be hard to navigate without civilian casualties. Images of the small children they’d met that day came back to him.
He hardened his heart and got down to the task of planning where they would enter the village, what weapons they would carry and the communications equipment they would need.
That night, the 160th Night Stalkers transported them in a US Army Black Hawk helicopter to within two miles of the village. From there, they hiked the rest of the way, carrying what they needed on their backs, strapped to their chests or in their arms.
As team leader, Declan sported the helmet camcorder.
Mustang, on point, slipped into the village first, keeping them abreast of what he was seeing as he entered. Declan followed, providing cover for Mustang.
At the corner of the next building, Mustang paused.
Declan held up his fist, motioning for the others to hold in place.
“Light ahead. Some kind of gathering. The buildings to my right and left appear empty. Going in.”
Declan hurried to the corner where Mustang crouched.
When he reached it, he peered around, his rifle pointed toward the center of the village. As Mustang had indicated, light illuminated the village center, where a gathering had amassed.
“Going to get closer,” Mustang said. He leapfrogged to the next mud-and-stick building and stopped.
Declan aimed at the village center, his gaze panning the surrounding buildings and rooftops for any sign of snipers or Taliban gunmen.
At the center of the village, it appeared as though every villager, and possibly more individuals who weren’t from the village, were in attendance of some kind of celebration.
Torches had been lit at the village center, casting light and shadows over the men in the headdresses, women cloaked in scarves and children scrambling in and out of the crowd, chasing each other when it was well past their bedtimes.
“I see Rasul,” Mustang said excitedly. “He’s at the center of the crowd.”
Gus, the radio operator, slid in beside Declan. “What have we got?”
“Some kind of celebration,” Declan said. “I’m moving forward, cover me.”
Gus leaned around the corner of the building, his rifle at the ready. “Go.”
Declan hunkered low and ran toward the position where Mustang crouched.
“I don’t know, boss,” he said. “Doesn’t look like a Taliban indoctrination session. Too many women and children in attendance.”
Declan studied the crowd. About that time, the people moved, opening a gap so that they could see into the center.
Like Mustang had said, Rasul was there, his bearded face and black turban undeniably distinct. Others around him wore white turbans and next to him stood a young man with a white turban. A woman stood beside the man in white, covered from head to toe in white. Her face could not be seen, but she carried a bouquet of bright red and pink flowers.
“Hell, it’s a wedding,” Declan declared. “They’re having a wedding.”
“The general told us to use whatever means we had to in order to take out Rasul,” Mustang reminded him.
“Yeah, but storming a wedding would be political suicide,” Mack, Declan’s assistant leader, said.
“What should we do?” Gus asked into Declan’s headset.
Declan shook his head. What could they do? If they didn’t take out Rasul, he would live on to kill again. If they raided the wedding party, there would be too many civilian casualties...women, children, maybe even the bride and groom. Despite his commanding officers’ orders, he chose to err on caution. “We wait and see if we can pick off Rasul without taking out the wedding party.”
He positioned his men around the village, hoping at least one of them would get a clear shot of the Taliban leader. In the process, they located the vehicles the Taliban had arrived in, parked beneath a crude lean-to with a grass-thatched roof. If they tried to make a run for it, they’d head in that direction.
The celebration went on for another hour, the Taliban leader in the thick of the crowd, too close to innocent women, the bride and groom, and small children. At one point, he even lifted a child into his arms and held her long enough for her to fall asleep on his shoulder.
He was surrounded by other men dressed in white garments, with black turbans. They carried AK-47 rifles and remained close to the Taliban leader throughout the ceremony.
An hour and a half of waiting came to a close when the bride and groom stood and moved toward the Taliban leader. He rose, but was surrounded immediately by women, children and his bodyguards.
“Mack, can you get a clear shot?” Declan asked.
Mack was the best shot among the team. He had logged the highest number of enemy kills in the eight months they’d been in the country. If anyone could take out the Taliban leader, he was the guy.
Mack swore into his mic. “Can’t without taking out the bride or groom.”
Declan lifted his rifle to his shoulder and aimed at the Taliban leader.
A woman carrying an infant blocked his direct shot to Rasul.
“Anyone else got a direct line of fire?” Declan asked.
One by one, each member of his team reported. “No.”
“We have to make a move. If it means breaking up the party, so be it.”
“The commander and general both said to use whatever means necessary. You heard them. Rasul has to go,” Mack repeated.
“Then let’s get this party started.” Declan shifted his rifle in his arms. “Be ready. If you get the shot, take it. Do your best to limit collateral damage.”
Declan didn’t wait for his team to respond; he stepped out in the open and fired his rifle into the air, sure to aim with enough trajectory to take the bullets far from the village. As soon as he fired the burst of rounds, he ducked back behind the cover of the building.
Screams sounded from the crowd and people scattered in all directions. Declan couldn’t reemerge from the same building. The enemy would have spotted him and be aiming for him.
Mustang had climbed to the top of the building with his rifle. “I got a bead on Rasul.”
“Take him out,” Declan said.
“Damn,” Mustang said.
“What?”
“He grabbed the bride. He’s using her as a human shield.” Mustang cursed again. “I can’t get a clean shot.”
The commander had been clear. He’d authorized using whatever means necessary. In Declan’s world, that meant the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one. One bride.
He could end the terror and destruction of many more by taking the shot...through the bride to the Taliban leader.
“This mission is headed for the crapper,” Mack said.
Declan peered around the corner of the building.
The Taliban men had gathered around their leader, holding women and children in front of them. Over the heads of their hostages, they fired their weapons in Declan’s direction.
Chunks of hard-packed earth and sticks splintered off the building beside Declan’s head. He slipped back out of range.
He rounded the other side of the building and ran to the next. If he was correct, the Taliban leader and his bodyguards would be heading for their vehicles, which were parked at the north end of the village. They’d have to let go of their hostages long enough to climb into their trucks and SUVs. “Cut them off where they parked,” he said.
“On it,” Gus responded.
“Getting there,” Mack said.
“Almost there,” Cole chimed in.
“Right behind you,” Snow said.
“Gotcha covered,” Mustang added.
Weaving through the narrow streets of the village, Declan came out at the north end, within twenty yards of the Taliban vehicles.
At that moment, it seemed the entire village spilled out of the alleys between the buildings, flowing like a river, carrying the Taliban leader toward the waiting vehicles. He still had the bride clutched against him.
The bodyguards hadn’t emerged from the town, which made Declan pause. “Rasul is still surrounded. Where are his bodyguards?”
“Got one coming up from behind you,” Mustang said. Shots were fired in the darkness. “One down. Five more to go.”
“I’m going for Rasul,” Declan said. He started out of the cover of the building he’d been hunkered down behind.
“Hold on,” Mustang’s voice came across. “We’ve got a big problem headed our way.”
“What?” Declan didn’t want to wait too long, or else Rasul would escape, but he ducked between two huts.
“The other five bodyguards are converging on your location. They have babies strapped to their chests and they’re herding small children and women through the streets wearing vests full of explosives.”
“Holy sh—” Declan cursed beneath his breath. He knew how badly their CO and the general wanted this kill, but to do it would mean taking out the entire village. The face of the child he’d played with earlier swam before his eyes. And then he saw that child emerge in front of the parade of villagers destined to die if the Americans didn’t back off.
“Abort,” Declan said.
“Abort?” Mack asked. “But we haven’t taken out Rasul.”
“And if we do, his bodyguards will kill every last person in this village.” Declan couldn’t live with that on his conscience. If that wasn’t bad enough, the press would get hold of the story and blame the Americans. They’d be labeled baby killers, and the corpses of the bride and groom would be paraded in front of the cameras for the entire world to see and know the US Marines were no better than the jihadist suicide bombers who killed indiscriminately.
“You heard me,” Declan said. “Abort.”
“What about our orders?”
“To hell with our orders. Those people aren’t collateral damage,” Declan said. “They’re people who didn’t ask to be used as human shields.”
“We’re following your lead. If you say we’re out of here, we’re out of here,” Mack said.
The team pulled back, slipping out of the village and into the night to meet up with their ride home aboard the Black Hawk helicopter, their mission a failure.
The next day, Rasul went on to bomb a convoy containing members of the US State Department and a high-powered member of the EU in front of a school filled with Afghan children. Twenty-seven people died that day.
Those in Washington who had authorized the mission to assassinate Rasul were blamed. Heads rolled and the buck stopped with the Force Recon team. Declan and his team didn’t know that night they decided not to kill Rasul was the end of their careers as Force Recon marines.