Читать книгу Black Ops Warrior - Amelia Autin - Страница 13

Chapter 3

“Oops!” said a voice behind Savannah as someone bumped into her chair. “Sorry about—Well, hey there!”

She looked up and saw a face she recognized from their tour group, but she couldn’t immediately put a name to the face and searched in vain for a nametag.

“Savannah Whitman, right?” the vivacious blonde said. “I’m Mary Beth, remember? Mary Beth Thompson. And this is my husband, Herb.” She turned to the man who’d come up beside her, holding a full plate. “Herb, you remember Savannah, right? We were on the same plane from San Francisco.”

Mary Beth chattered away about the crowded conditions at the Great Wall. “All that pushing and shoving! So rude, too! Why, I could barely take a picture without someone walking right into the frame.” She moved on to discuss the factory they’d visited afterward. “Wasn’t that jade factory incredible? Did you buy anything? I could have spent a fortune. Good thing I had Herb with me,” Mary Beth said with a laugh, “or I’d have put a major dent in my credit card for sure! But I have to say, the food in the factory restaurant was just so-so, don’t you think? Not five-star like this restaurant.”

Savannah couldn’t get a word in edgewise. But apparently Mary Beth didn’t need an answer to any of her questions. She just kept rolling on, and Savannah was terribly afraid at any moment Mary Beth would suggest she and her husband join them for dinner. Savannah didn’t want to—not only was she already getting a headache listening to Mary Beth’s incessant chatter, she also wanted Niall all to herself. But she didn’t know how she’d say no if...

“Well, hello,” said another woman, stopping by their table, accompanied by a smiling man, both of whom looked familiar. “Weren’t you in our cable car going up to the Great Wall this morning?” she asked Savannah.

“Oh. Oh yes, I think I was. It’s...” Savannah surreptitiously looked for a nametag she didn’t find, then searched her memory. “It’s Tammy and...and Martin, right?” she said triumphantly. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your last name.”

“Williams,” the man threw in.

“That’s right. Sorry, I’m really bad with names.”

Niall had risen when Mary Beth and her husband had stopped at their table, and had stayed standing. But after one quick glance at Savannah’s face, he politely but firmly made it very clear the other couples were de trop.

Savannah smiled admiringly at Niall when they were alone again. “How did you do that?” she asked, leaning forward to make sure she couldn’t be overheard. “I mean, you weren’t rude, but you managed to get rid of them in no time at all.”

He shrugged, but a tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Just something I picked up at my mother’s knee.”

“I want to meet your mother.”

His smile deepened. “You’d like her. And what’s more to the point, she’d like you.”

A sudden, sharp pain stabbed through her, so unexpected, so real she was afraid to look down in case she’d see blood somewhere. She tried not to let her smile fade away, but she wasn’t completely successful. Niall watched her for a moment, then said in a quiet voice, “Just tell me.”

The words slipped out. “My parents would have loved you.”

He didn’t say anything, just took her hand in his and stroked his thumb back and forth in a move that was both comforting and somehow erotic.

“I miss them so much,” she whispered in a desperate undertone. “My mom—she’s the one who got me interested in ancient history. I was thinking of her when I was standing on the Great Wall. Remembering lying on my bed, poring over books on ancient China with her. And my dad—he’s the one who introduced me to the pure beauty of mathematics. But I didn’t want to be a mathematician, like him. I wanted to be an engineer because it was applied math. I wanted to make a difference. Wanted to help keep the world safe. That’s why I became a—”

She stopped short because she suddenly remembered her numerous security briefings. Don’t tell anyone what you do, she’d been warned. You can say who you work for, but nothing more than that. And never mention your security clearance.

But Niall’s eyes held such understanding, she added, “I know people mock ideals these days. And patriotism seems passé, but that’s how my parents raised me. When I graduated college, I was recruited by...” She mentioned the name of her former employer, knowing Niall would probably recognize the name and make the connection to the Department of Defense. “Microsoft and Google recruited me, too, and a half dozen other companies. But I wanted to do my part in keeping my country safe.”

His hold on her hand tightened. “I understand, more than you can possibly know.” His voice dropped a notch. “That’s how my parents raised me, too. There’s this quotation from Edward Everett Hale my dad carved in wood before I was born, and hung over the fireplace mantel in the family room at home. It’s still there. ‘I am only one, but I am one,’” he recited softly. “‘I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do. And by the grace of God, I will.’”

She gazed wonderingly at him. “Would you believe I’ve read that saying before? Not exactly those words, but close.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen variations on it, too. But it influenced me from the time I was old enough to understand what it meant. And I joined the Marine Corps when I turned eighteen. So did all my brothers and my baby sister when they were old enough. Not that my parents pushed us into it. It was just...” He seemed to search for the words. “A way of giving back, I guess. I know our country isn’t perfect. We’ve made mistakes. Grievous ones sometimes. But I wouldn’t trade the US for any other country in the world.”

Savannah smiled tremulously at Niall. “You do understand.”

“Yeah. I do.”

They gazed at each other in silence for endless moments, and Savannah had never felt closer to another human being than she did right then with Niall. But eventually she tore her gaze away and glanced down at her largely untouched plate. “Oh rats,” she said for something to say. “Our food’s cold.”

“It’s a buffet. You could get a new plate.”

“And waste good food?” She shook her head at him and picked up her fork. “I’m not going to perpetuate the stereotype of the ‘ugly American.’ Not if I can help it. It’s cold, but it’s still edible.”

They made small talk as they ate. And Savannah couldn’t believe this was really her. Where was the woman who was tongue-tied in the presence of the male of the species in a social situation? But everything seemed natural with Niall, as if she’d known him forever instead of meeting him for the first time this morning.

She frowned as she acknowledged the truth of that thought; she really knew nothing about Niall.

“Are you still a marine?” she blurted out.

He shook his head. “Four years was enough for me. My older brother made it his career, though, until—” He stopped abruptly, and Savannah wondered what he’d intended to say.

“Until...?”

“Until he was wounded and they gave him a medical discharge. Now he does something else.”

“If you didn’t make the Corps your career, what do you do?” She almost missed his slight hesitation.

“Security.”

She wondered about that infinitesimal pause, but didn’t ask him about it. Instead she said, “What made you decide to take this trip? I mean, it’s mostly couples. And it’s mostly people who are...” She cleared her throat. “Well, retired. I know why I’m here, but...”

He smiled at her. “I’m forty. Not retired yet, but not so young, either. And I have a bucket list, just like you. Everything seemed to dovetail with work, and so...”

He wasn’t being completely truthful. She didn’t know how she knew that; she just did. But she wasn’t ready to call him on it. Yet. Someday, she vowed, he’ll trust me enough to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

As soon as that thought occurred to her, another thought crept into her consciousness. What made her think there was going to be a someday with Niall?

* * *

They strolled leisurely through the hotel’s vast lobby afterward, in companionable silence for the most part. When they passed the shop where Savannah had purchased her dress, she stopped momentarily to look at the others in the window. “I almost bought that one,” she murmured, pointing to a red silk sheath with the most gorgeous gold embroidery in a very Chinese design.

“Red’s not your color.” Niall turned, and when his gaze traveled over her from head to toe, Savannah felt it as a caress.

“No?”

“No. It’s all wrong for you.”

She didn’t know what made her say it—she never flirted—but she teased, “I didn’t know you were a connoisseur of women’s clothing.”

A short huff of laughter answered her. “I’m not. But I’m a connoisseur of you.” His voice dropped. “And what you’re wearing is perfect...for you.”

She caught her breath at the blatant desire in his eyes, kindling an answering desire in her. And all at once she remembered this morning, and her determination that if Niall wanted to make love to her, she wasn’t going to say no. Except for that one time she’d fallen in love in her teens, she’d played it safe all her life where relationships were concerned. How many chances like this would come her way? How many opportunities would she have to live the fantasy?

You even planned for this, she reminded herself. There’s a box of condoms waiting upstairs. But she couldn’t make her lips form the words to invite him up to her room. She wanted to. But she couldn’t.

* * *

Niall saw Savannah safely back to her hotel room on the thirty-eighth floor. He leaned in and kissed her lightly, not trusting himself any further than that. If he kissed her the way he wanted to—the way she deserved—he wouldn’t have been able to walk away at all. And he needed to. The shy invitation in Savannah’s eyes was an indictment of him. Of his assignment. And of what he’d actually—for a brief period—considered doing. How do you make love to a woman you’d convinced yourself you could kill?

He could have done it yesterday, if absolutely necessary. He could have slept with a traitor without a qualm and gone after the evidence to convict her, or kill her, when she was still his target. But not now. Not when he knew his assignment was most likely pure BS. He’d done things for his country that kept him up at night, things he wouldn’t necessarily want his mother or sister to know about, but he’d never done anything of which he was ashamed...until now.

“Lock your door,” he whispered when he raised his head.

“Lock my door?” Bewilderment shone from her gray eyes.

“I want to hear that lock click behind you. Then I’ll know you’re safe...from me.”

She caught her breath. “What if I don’t want to be safe?”

The sound that issued from his throat was nothing more or less than a growl. “Damn it, Savannah! You don’t know the first thing about me.”

She stared up at him, an enigmatic expression on her face. “You’re wrong,” she said quietly. “I know you better than you think.” A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “The fact that you have no intention of following me into my room despite what your body is saying tells me all I really need to know about you.” She reached up and touched two fingers to his cheek. “Good night, Niall. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

Then she was gone, closing the door in his face the way he’d told her to do. And the click of the lock was audible.

He walked next door and inserted his keycard in the slot. Savannah didn’t know it, but he’d arranged to have the room right next to hers. She was also unaware he’d broken into her room last night while she was at the lavish three-hour Peking duck banquet outside their hotel, which Niall had missed.

He’d searched everything Savannah had with her and had found nothing. No incriminating papers. No CDs, DVDs or thumb drives that might contain top secret files. He’d hacked into her laptop, too, and copied her data files for perusal back in his hotel room, which he’d done into the wee hours of this morning. He’d also installed worm software on her laptop. Every keystroke she made, every website she visited, every email she sent—Niall would know about it.

And he’d planted nearly invisible voice-activated cameras and listening devices, all of which weren’t necessary if she wasn’t a traitor or a security risk. He wouldn’t turn off the electronic monitoring system yet, just to be on the safe side. But they were checking out of this hotel day after tomorrow. When she went down to breakfast that morning, he would retrieve the equipment he’d installed last night, then install it at their next hotel. Assuming he didn’t get called back to the US in the meantime.

Her laptop was a little more problematic. The worm he’d introduced into her operating system wasn’t as simple to remove as the cameras or audio devices. It could be done, but it would take hours. He’d have to wait for another time, and there wasn’t a rush to uninstall it. And if he was recalled, well...the worm would stay where it was.

That didn’t mean he had to review the data logs, though. He’d have to see what his boss had to say. And he wouldn’t watch the voice-activated video, either. Listen, yes. Just to make sure she didn’t meet with someone she shouldn’t in her hotel room. And if he heard something suspicious, the video would still be there. But otherwise Savannah’s privacy would be inviolate. That was the least he could do, now that he knew she was probably innocent.

But not watching Savannah on video didn’t mean he’d turned off his imagination where she was concerned. He lay on the top of the covers, his arms beneath his head, and closed his eyes.

He could see her clearly in his mind as she’d first appeared when she opened her hotel door. She’d brushed her mousy brown hair until it shone, then piled it on top of her head. Even with that and her two-inch heels, he’d still towered over her. But then, at six-two-plus, that wasn’t unusual for him. She’d done something different to her eyes, too—mascara on her lashes and that shadowy stuff women used to make their eyes appear larger. But it was her mouth that had nearly poleaxed him. He wanted that mouth on him.

“Damn it!” He was fully aroused now, and he had no one to blame but himself. “Stop thinking of her,” he ordered, but it was easier said than done.

He unbuckled his ankle holster, which contained his totally-illegal-in-China-and-he’d-serve-hard-time-if-he-got-caught-with-it Beretta M9, and laid it on the nightstand. He’d carried a Beretta since his days in the Marine Corps, and he loved it. It fit his hand as if it had been made for him, and he always felt naked without it.

Then he turned up the volume on the electronic monitoring system—although nothing in Savannah’s hotel room had set off the voice activation so far—before stripping to the buff and padding into the bathroom. He’d already taken one shower this evening, before he’d knocked on Savannah’s door at dinnertime, but he needed another one now.

Preferably cold.

Two shivering minutes later his arousal was tamed...barely. He fished his toothbrush out of his travel kit, squeezed on toothpaste and was just about to slide it under the tap when he remembered. He cursed himself softly for almost making what could have been an error his body would pay for later. He cracked open a fresh bottle of water, shaking his head at his near stupidity and the necessity.

Not that this was new to him. It wasn’t. He’d been stationed places where bottled water was necessary for everything during his years in the Corps. He’d traveled on assignment to the jungles of Africa and South America, where the sanitary conditions were much worse. But it still bothered him.

He turned out the bathroom light, then crawled naked under the covers...where his thoughts stubbornly returned to Savannah. Wondering what she was doing at this very moment. Was she already in bed on the other side of the wall? Did she wear nightclothes—a gown, a T-shirt, PJs? Or did she sleep in the nude as he did?

Crap! Stop thinking of that, you pervert.

Then he remembered he hadn’t done what he’d intended to do the minute he returned to the privacy of his room. He rose and grabbed his secure laptop from the safe, brought it back to bed with him, then turned it on. It took a few minutes to boot up—the security precautions installed meant jumping through a few extra electronic hoops. Then, of course, he had to log onto the Virtual Private Network. And since he had to access it through a satellite feed, it took even longer. But eventually he was connected securely.

He’d already composed the email he would send while he was waiting for his laptop to be ready, so now his fingers flew over the keys as he typed. Finished, he scanned what he’d written, then hit Send and left the computer on.

The twelve-hour time difference between Beijing and Washington, DC, at this time of year meant he could expect a fairly prompt response. It was—he glanced at the clock on the nightstand—10:06 p.m. So it was just after ten in the morning in DC, which meant he might hear back in a few minutes.

He pushed the laptop to one side and lay back against the pillows, waiting. Hoping to receive the “stand down” command he’d requested, because he didn’t want to waste another day on this meaningless assignment.

There was another reason he wanted to leave China sooner rather than later, and it had nothing to do with wasting his time. He wanted out of here because being around Savannah was dangerous to his peace of mind and to his closely guarded heart. She’d already elicited things from him he never talked about. Like how his dad’s death had affected him. Like his brother’s medical discharge from the Corps.

He was just dozing off despite telling himself to stay awake—too little sleep last night, his body was telling him in no uncertain terms—when he heard an odd thump from the room next door, followed by Savannah’s voice, which he could hear clearly on the monitor, saying, “Who is it?”