Chapter Seventeen

Blood poured through Leah’s hands as she pressed them to Mercedes’s chest. She didn’t know what else to do to help the woman. “Marcus!”

He spared a glance from the driver’s seat, and his complexion lost a few shades.

Danny.

He was thinking about Danny, reliving what happened to her husband.

And maybe this was the same, but Danny was gone. Mercedes was still alive. For now.

“Marcus! What do I do?”

He returned his attention to the road. “Just keep pressure on it.”

She pressed down harder, and Mercedes’s eyes flew open. The woman choked, but whether it was a scream or a sob, she couldn’t tell. Mercedes looked around, her dark eyes rolling in her head like they weren’t attached to intelligent thought. Was she dying?

“Hey.” Leah leaned over and put her face right in front of Mercedes’s. “You pushed me down, threw yourself in front of the bullets. Why? Why risk your life like that?”

Her eyes stopped rolling and focused. “No more innocents die.”

“What about you?”

She gave a weak smile. “Lost my innocence a long time ago.”

Marcus spared her another glance. “Looks like you finally decided on a team.”

“Looks like.” She drew in a breath and winced. “If I die, find Xander. You owe me. Again.”

He again glanced down at her, and something unspoken passed between them. He returned his attention to the road before he nodded. “We’ll find him.”

“Thank you.” As if that worry were the only thing keeping her awake, she relaxed and slid into unconsciousness.

“Who’s Xander?”

“Her brother. She’s been looking for him for over a year. Alexander Cabot.”

“Her brother?” Panic tore through her. “Marcus, he was back there at the camp. I saw him!”

“Shit.” Marcus slammed on the brakes and the truck rocked to a halt. “Where?”

“They had him in the same building you found me in. He was in bad shape. Dmitry Volkov used me to question him.”

“Used you how?” His voice carried a dangerous edge.

Ugh, he could be so like Danny sometimes. Always getting hung up on the unimportant details and never seeing the big picture. “They didn’t hurt me. They hurt Cabot, though. When he wouldn’t tell them anything, they beat him into unconsciousness and took him away. Dmitry said they took him to a doctor.”

The boy sitting next to her, cradling Mercedes’s head in his lap, let out a frightened squeak, like something a trapped animal would make.

She glanced back and forth between him and Marcus. “What?”

Marcus sighed. “Abel says those that go to the doctor at that camp don’t return.”

“Oh my God. We have to go back for him!” She felt more blood ooze through her fingers and stared down at the unconscious woman spread across her lap.

No. They couldn’t go back. If they did, Mercedes would die.

Marcus must have taken the same read of the situation because he jammed the truck back into drive. “We need to save ourselves first. Abel, how much farther is your uncle’s village?”

“Not far.”

“We go there first and I’ll try to contact the team, then we’ll worry about rescuing Cabot.”

If there was anything left of him to rescue. But she knew Marcus was right. They couldn’t go back with a bleeding woman, a boy, and no weapons. And as much as she hated to admit it, they needed HORNET.

They made the rest of the trip in silence, save from the occasional direction from Abel or the grinding of the truck’s gears.

Abel directed them to stop in front of a red and white building with a steeply sloped A-line roof. A cross hung over the front door. Abel jumped out and ran to the gate, shouting in French. The front door opened, and several men ran out into the rain. Abel directed them to the truck, but when they spotted Marcus and Leah, they froze. Abel squeezed between them, jabbering away in a different language now but obviously assuring the men these people meant no harm and needed help.

The men conversed quietly among themselves, then seemed to come to a consensus. They carefully pulled Mercedes out of the truck and placed her on an already blood-stained stretcher before carting her inside.

Abel popped up in the doorway with a big grin. “My uncle’s church. We will be safe here. Come. There is food and water.”

Leah glanced back at Marcus.

He nodded. “Go inside. I’m right behind you. I need to hide the truck first.”

And older man wearing colorful robes appeared behind Abel and set his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Had to be his uncle. The family resemblance was strong in their high cheekbones and wide noses. “You can park in the back.” His English was better than his nephew’s. “I’ll send men with tarps to help you hide it.”

“Thank you,” Marcus said and started the truck.

Leah climbed out and followed Abel and his uncle onto the church grounds.

“I’m Josue,” Abel’s uncle said.

“I’m Leah. And the woman they took inside is Mercedes.”

“We have a nurse here. She will help your friend.”

Leah breathed out a soft sigh. She hoped that was the truth. The last thing she wanted was more death.

She was surprised at the number of people huddled inside the church. Men, women, children, babies. They sat on thin cots along the walls and watched her with open curiosity. The children’s round bellies and sunken eyes spoke of too little food to go around, but everyone seemed to be offering her something as Josue led her down the center aisle.

This wasn’t a mass, or any kind of church service like she first thought. For one thing, most of the women wore hijabs, and this was obviously a Christian church. “Who are all these people?”

“Refugees,” Josue said so matter-of-factly that her heart clenched with sorrow.

“They’re Muslim?”

“Yes.”

“And you let them stay here?”

“Of course. It is the safest place for them,” he said as if he had no idea how momentous that act of kindness would seem to the outside world. “The Anti-Balaka will not attack my church. They profess to be Christians and pretend they are fighting for God, but it is a lie. They are militants. They worship only blood and death and war. The Seleka are the same, but waving a Muslim flag as they tear apart our country. They will not risk an attack that ends in Muslim blood spilled, so my congregation is safe as well.”

She realized then that she knew next to nothing about this country. Honestly didn’t even know if she could pinpoint it on an unlabeled map. Yet these people were here, living through horror every day. Suffering, dying. She couldn’t imagine how all those mothers felt watching their children waste away in their arms and not being able to do anything about it.

Suddenly all of her problems back in L.A.—worrying about selling an overpriced, ostentatious house or paying for her kids’ school and extracurricular activities and therapy—seemed beyond petty. “You’re in the middle of a civil war?”

“Yes.” Josue sighed heavily and stopped in front of a wooden door in the back corner of the church. “For too many years now. And now others are involved, training the government troops to handle the Anti-Balaka and Seleka. I fear it will not help. It will make things worse.”

“The Russians,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

“They do not care about us. They want what is in the ground under our feet.” He stamped his sandaled foot to make his point. “Gold and diamonds—the only reasons they are here. They took my brother and my nephew, saying they had debts to the government to pay off. I did not think I would see them again.” He opened the door and motioned her inside. “Please take my private quarters as my thanks. There is a bed and a small bathroom with running water for you to clean up.”

Leah gazed down at her hands, still stained with Mercedes’s blood, then glanced back at where they had set her down on a cot. A family had abandoned their cot for her and stood off to the side, watching as a woman in a colorful dress worked over her. “Is that the nurse?”

“Yes. She worked at the local hospital until it shut down. You’re lucky you didn’t take your friend to the Russian doctor. You never would have seen her again.”

“That’s what Abel said.”

“He is a smart boy and a pride of my family. Thank you for bringing him home.”

“I didn’t have much to do with it,” she admitted. “You’ll have to thank Marcus. He saved us all.”

“The man in the truck?” At her nod, Josue inclined his head. “I will be sure to thank him, too. Go. Rest and clean up. You are safe here.”

“Thank you.” Leah stepped into the room. It wasn’t fancy—red-orange walls, a simple mattress on a metal frame, a plastic chair in one corner—but compared to her recent accommodations, it felt like the height of luxury. The bathroom alone was enough to weep over. A half wall separated the toilet from the shower. She pulled the lever to test the water, found it ran clear and cool. It was more of a stream than a spray, but she didn’t care.

She just wanted to feel clean again.

She stripped off her filthy clothes, stepped under the shower head, and savored the cool water as it poured over her. Dirt and blood mixed into a red soup by the drain at her feet. Goose bumps prickled over her skin and she squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want the visual reminder of the death she’d seen over the last few days.

“Leah?” The edge of panic in Marcus’s voice had her prying her eyes open.

He stood in the bathroom doorway, spattered with mud and blood and who knew what else, with a panic-stricken look on his face. Although she was completely naked, she felt no need to cover up, hide herself. Not from Marcus.

“Oh Jesus,” he said under his breath and crossed the small space in two steps. He stepped under the spray fully dressed, dragged her into his arms, and kissed her.

It wasn’t a kind of kiss friends might share, wasn’t soft or gentle. His lips were hard and hungry on hers, demanding and devouring. It was the kiss of a man who wanted to claim a woman, and her body took notice. Her nipples tightened against the soft cotton of his shirt. He was filthy, the water running off him turning brown at their feet, but she didn’t care. She wanted to be closer. She tugged at his shirt and he broke the kiss long enough to yank it off over his head. Then his lips fastened back to hers, his fingers weaving into her hair to hold her still for a deep exploration of her mouth.

He was shaking. She felt the trembles running through him, following the trail of her fingers. She was shaking, too, as she fumbled with the buttons on his pants. She shoved them down and his erection sprung free, hot against her belly. She wrapped a hand around him, marveling at how he could be so soft and hard at the same time. Her first stroke had a rough groan rumbling from deep in his chest. He gripped her wrist and spun her around, none too gently shoving her against the wall.

A thrill shot through her. She’d never been handled like this, with rough hands and scraping teeth. He nipped at the back of her neck, and her nipples hardened into tight, overly sensitive buds against the tile wall. He cupped her ass, squeezed, and then nudged one leg between her thighs, opening her for him. She was soaked with need, trembling, her heart beating too hard. She slapped her hands against the wall to hold herself up as he curled two fingers inside her channel. It was just a quick, teasing dip, a preview of the pleasure to follow, but it had her whispering his name in a plea.

He leaned in to her, sliding his mouth along the line of her neck as those searching fingers found the place she most wanted him to touch. He traced circles relentlessly around her clit until the coil of tension low in her belly sprung free with such intensity, her bones liquefied. She cried out as the pleasure crashed over her, reeled her around, and left her dizzy and gasping.

Marcus made a thoroughly masculine sound deep in his throat and spun her again so that her back was to the wall. He lifted her in his big hands like she weighed nothing and set her down on his erection. He slid in without resistance, filling her completely.

Oh. It had been so long since she’d felt full like this. Connected to another human being like this. She’d missed it.

She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, threw her head back against the wall, and circled her hips against him as he thrust fast and hard.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his fingers biting into her hips. “Keep doing that.”

Oh, she had every intention of it. Felt too good to stop. Each thrust rubbed his pelvis against her clit and she was so…close…

Marcus stiffened and, with a groan, buried himself deep. That did it. The climax exploded through her, sharp and nearly painful in its bright intensity. She swore she actually saw stars.

She’d had amazing sex with her husband. Danny had been a kind and considerate lover. But she’d never, ever experienced an orgasm that intense before. She wasn’t sure all of her bits and pieces were still in the appropriate places and in working order. She felt like she’d been torn apart and flung across the universe.

Had it been that intense for Marcus, too? He was still shaking, and his breath came out against her shoulder in ragged pants.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice rough. He carefully set her down, letting her back slide against the wall until her feet hit the floor again. Only then did he release her and step back, his chest still heaving, his erection still at half-mast. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, either, and her nerve endings buzzed from the climaxes. It had been so long since she’d experienced the sensation, she’d forgotten how good it felt.

Marcus dragged his hands through his wet hair. “Fuck,” he said again and walked out.

Wait. Was he leaving? She stared after him, not comprehending at first. She saw him moving around in the other room, yanking on clothes, but he didn’t come back to her. He didn’t offer sweet promises or even an “it was good,” as he left the room.

He. Just. Left.

Leah gasped as pain sliced through her as surely as a knife. She hadn’t known what to expect from him, but for him to leave like that after what they shared? Just walk out without anything more than a curse word?

God. What had she been thinking?

Danny used to tell her stories of Marcus’s many conquests. He’d always been half amused, half worried for his friend. What would he think if he knew his wife was now just another notch on his best friend’s bedpost? He’d be so angry and ashamed of her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the empty bathroom. No one answered her. Just the soft, erratic splash of the sputtering shower spray hitting the orange tile of the floor.

Of course, she hadn’t been thinking. She’d been feeling, reacting, needing. But, still, it had never occurred to her that Marcus could treat her like all his other women. Not with their history, their shared trauma. And, like it or not, the chemistry that had started bubbling between them since Danny died.

She’d tried to shove it away, ignore it, because it felt too much like a betrayal to be attracted to Marcus or to have feelings for him beyond friendship.

But she was attracted. And she did have feelings for him.

And it didn’t matter. He’d made that perfectly clear just now. This had been a one-time thing that would never happen between them again.

She swiped at her face with the backs of her hands. She wasn’t crying, but the act of shoving away the tears she wanted to cry fortified her. She shut off the water and picked her way out into Josue’s bedroom. A pile of clothes sat on the end of the bed—she guessed donated by one of the women refugees and brought in by Marcus. Her breasts strained against the tank top, and the colorful skirt was too big, had too much fabric she didn’t know what to do with, but the outfit was still better than her mud and blood covered clothes.

She took one more second to breathe and finished pulling herself together, then stepped out of the room with her head held high.