Читать книгу Black Ops Warrior - Amelia Autin - Страница 14

Chapter 4

“Housekeeping.”

Savannah frowned. She hadn’t called housekeeping for anything, and she remembered the warning given to women traveling alone—never open your hotel door unless you know who’s on the other side. And even then, be on your guard. She peered through the peephole but couldn’t see anyone, and that alone roused her suspicions.

She was just about to tell whoever was on the other side of her door that she was calling hotel security when she heard the oddest noise, followed by what sounded like the thud of running footsteps on the carpeted hallway floor. Then nothing.

She raced to the phone and was poised to dial the operator when there was a light tap on her door, followed by a deep voice she recognized. “Savannah? It’s Niall. Are you okay?”

She dropped the phone back into its cradle and made a mad dash for the door. She threw it open without even checking the peephole, something for which she’d berate herself later, but at the moment seemed utterly unnecessary.

A barefooted, shirtless Niall stood in her doorway, as if he’d somehow divined she was in trouble and had only bothered to pull on his jeans before coming to her rescue. “Are you okay?” he repeated, running his gaze over her from top to bottom as if he needed to reassure himself.

“I’m fine.” Then her curiosity got the better of her. “How did you know I needed help?”

He hesitated. “My room’s right next door. I heard something and came to investigate. I didn’t want to intrude, but better safe than sorry, my mother always says.”

A tiny pang went through her at the familiar phrase. “My mom used to say that, too.” Only then did she realize blood was trickling from Niall’s forearm. “Oh my God, you’re hurt!” She dragged him by his uninjured arm into her room and closed the door behind him. Then turned him so she could examine the wounded area. “What happened?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, just darted into the bathroom for a clean, dry washcloth and her toiletries case, which also contained her little emergency kit.

“Sit,” she ordered, when she came back. Niall glanced at the foot of the bed, then pulled the desk chair out and swiveled it around before taking a seat. Savannah pressed the washcloth against what was little more than a six-inch scratch, which was a good thing. It wouldn’t need stitches, just disinfecting and a gauze bandage. “What happened?” she asked again as she efficiently applied first aid.

“There were a couple of masked—I guess you could call them intruders—outside your door when I stepped into the hallway. Not sure exactly what they were after, but the masks were a dead giveaway they weren’t there for a legitimate reason. They took off like bats out of hell as soon as they saw me, but I gave chase. I had my hand around the arm of one of them when the other produced a knife and lunged for me.” He didn’t even wince when she applied the alcohol wipe against the cut.

“I turned to avoid the thrust,” he continued, “and the blade grazed my forearm. But I had to let go of the other intruder, and that was all she wrote. They vanished through the fire door and did something to it so it wouldn’t open from this side. Which reminds me,” he said as an aside, “I need to call hotel security, have them clear the blockage just in case there’s a real fire and people need to escape that way.”

“Good idea,” Savannah said, but her mind wasn’t really on what Niall was saying about the fire door. She was laser focused on patching him up. “There,” she said with satisfaction as she patted the last piece of adhesive tape into place. “Almost good as new.” She smiled down at Niall, but her smile soon faded as her gaze slid farther down and she noticed for the first time a devastating scar near his heart, a bullet wound if she hadn’t missed her guess, and the surgical scar bisecting his chest. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “What...?”

She automatically went to touch it, but he caught her hand in an iron grip and prevented her. “Sorry.” His voice was brusque. “I know it’s offensive, but I was in a hurry and didn’t take time to put on a shirt. I’ll go back to my—”

He started to rise, but she pushed him back down. “Not until you tell me how it happened,” she insisted, quietly but firmly. “I’m not offended. And I’m not disgusted. What I am is appalled you think I would be.”

When he didn’t say anything, she nodded to herself as understanding dawned. “Someone told you it was offensive. A woman. A woman you cared about. A woman you...loved?”

Not by the flicker of an eyelid did he betray she’d guessed correctly, but she knew she was right. “Oh, Niall,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

This time she didn’t try to stop him when he rose. “Don’t pity me, for God’s sake,” he rasped. “That’s the last thing I want from you.”

“Not pity. Empathy. Because human beings can be so cruel to one another. Intentionally cruel. And it’s those intentional cruelties by those we love that inflict the most damage because we have no defenses against them.” It had been twenty years, but she still remembered when someone had done that to her, and she breathed raggedly. “Please tell me what happened.”

At first she thought he wasn’t going to. But then he admitted in a low voice, “I took a bullet meant for another man. That’s all.”

“That’s all? That’s all?” Without even thinking about it, Savannah reverently pressed her lips against the scar, wishing with all her heart she could “kiss it and make it better” the way her mother used to do when Savannah scraped her knee or cut her finger. Wishing she could draw the poison from Niall’s soul that way, poison planted by the woman he’d once loved, the one who’d told him the scar on his otherwise beautiful body was disgusting.

Then one muscled arm closed around her, dragging her against a body that had no give at all, and his free hand tilted her chin up. His mouth descended on hers, completely obliterating any memory she’d had of any other man’s kiss. The kiss went on and on, until surrender was the only possibility. Until every nerve ending in her body was inflamed. When he finally raised his head, she stared up at him, mutely pleading for more.

His face hardened. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me.”

“But I do.” Savannah had never—never—been this upfront with a man about what she wanted, what she needed. Which was quite possibly why her few sexual relationships could be summed up in one word: Meh. But she had no reservations about telling Niall. And she was sure right down to her bare toes that sex with Niall would be anything but meh.

“Savannah...”

The rejection in the way he said her name stung, but not as badly as it could have if it wasn’t patently obvious by the impressive bulge in his jeans that he wanted her, too. And despite the need that hummed through her body, she understood.

“‘Not tonight, dear, I have a headache,’” she murmured in a teasing fashion, and was rewarded by his masculine chuckle.

“No headache, just a hard-on I’d give anything to bury deep inside you.” She gasped at his forthright language, although she wasn’t offended. “But there are reasons I can’t share with you why that would be a very bad idea.”

“Why can’t you share them?”

He laughed again, defusing the sexual tension. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to know. And besides, there’s another, even more important reason why not.”

“And that is?”

“Because my parents raised me to be a gentleman. And a gentleman doesn’t take advantage of a lady when she’s vulnerable.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And you, Dr. Whitman, are definitely vulnerable. Not to mention one hell of a lady.”

It wasn’t until Niall had returned to his own room and Savannah was snuggling under the covers alone that she suddenly wondered how he knew she held a doctorate. She cast her mind back over their conversations, but she couldn’t remember ever having mentioned it to him. And her name badge only said “Savannah Whitman,” not “Dr. Savannah Whitman,” or “Savannah Whitman, PhD.”

That’s odd, she thought, meaning to ask Niall about it the next day. Then her brain shut down as she slid into sleep, and the question completely slipped her mind.

* * *

Niall picked up the phone the minute he was back in his hotel room. He called the operator, who transferred him to hotel security. He didn’t mention Savannah’s name or that masked intruders had tried to gain entrance to her room, because he was fairly sure this was no random attack. He merely reported that he’d seen the perpetrators and tried to give chase, but they’d escaped into the emergency stairwell on his floor and had apparently jammed the fire door from the inside. Could security look into it?

Then he checked his email. Sure enough, his inbox contained the recall he’d asked for, a recall he no longer wanted.

He quickly considered his options. One, he could meekly acquiesce to his orders, pack his bags and head back to DC. He dismissed that idea immediately.

Two, he could tell Savannah his suspicion that someone was trying to kidnap her. He didn’t know who, but he was pretty sure he knew why—the highly classified data in her brain. And though the obvious suspect was the government of the People’s Republic of China, he didn’t think so. Someone had convinced the Department of Homeland Security and the Department of Defense that Savannah was a security risk. Why? If a foreign government was behind the kidnapping attempt, getting Niall dispatched here was contrary to their interests.

Which meant someone was deliberately trying to make it appear as if the PRC was involved, so that when Savannah disappeared the US government would either think she’d defected or the Chinese were behind her disappearance. Suspicion would be diverted from the true culprit either way.

But unless he confessed everything, he doubted he’d be able to convince Savannah she was in ongoing danger. And if he couldn’t convince her, no way would she go back to the States with her bucket list unfulfilled, not with the motivation driving her.

Three, he could ask to have his recall rescinded and instead be assigned to guard Savannah while she was in China. Bodyguard would be a divergence from his usual role, but not completely outside the realm of things he’d done in his career.

Could he keep her safe for the next two weeks? There were no guarantees in this world, but he had faith in himself. Hell yes, he could keep her safe. Would keep her safe, or die trying.

But he’d have to word his request carefully if he went with option number three.

He clicked Reply and started typing. He read back through what he’d written six minutes later, modifying a word here, a phrase there. Satisfied at last he was conveying the message that would get him the result he wanted, he clicked Send.

He lay back against the pillows, one arm beneath his head. He had no qualms about what he’d done. No second thoughts about telling his boss Savannah was in danger...and potentially an unwitting security risk. He hadn’t come right out and said it, but he’d implied that if the PRC was trying to kidnap her in a way that wouldn’t cause an international incident, then his original assignment still applied—he had to prevent Savannah from revealing the top secret military defense information she possessed to the enemy, even if she didn’t intend to do it. And the only way to do that was to guard her 24/7.

And how are you going to do that, hotshot? How are you going to guard her 24/7?

The only answer that came to him was the one he was most afraid of—becoming Savannah’s lover for the remainder of this trip. Afraid, because he wanted this deep down in the secret recesses of his soul. Not just to keep her safe, but because he wanted her. Plain and simple.

But he didn’t just want her in his bed. He didn’t just want to sate himself with her body, although that urge was getting stronger by the minute. He wanted the woman who’d kissed the scar on his chest as if it were a sacred badge of honor. He wanted the woman who’d cried for his pain.

And that scared the hell out of him.

* * *

Savannah woke early and was dressed and downstairs before the hotel restaurant opened for breakfast at six. She was hoping she’d run into Niall and invite him to join her. But though her eyes searched everywhere, she didn’t see him.

Her attention was caught by the waving arm of Mary Beth Thompson, who was sitting with her husband, Herb. She didn’t want to eat breakfast with them, but she didn’t think she had a choice. Then she saw Tammy and Martin Williams at a table near the front door. She waved back at Mary Beth and shook her head, pointing toward the Williamses as if to indicate she had a previous assignation with them. Then she carried her tray over to their table.

“Mind if I join you?”

Tammy smiled. “Please do.”

Savannah sat with a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I just couldn’t bear Mary Beth’s brand of chattiness at breakfast.”

Tammy laughed and signaled to the waiter. “Coffee?” she asked Savannah.

“Yes, please.” She smiled at the waiter. “No cream.”

Tammy reached into her purse. “Do you need some no-sugar sweetener? I have some here.”

“Oh no. I brought my own. I did my research before I came on this trip. ‘Don’t drink the water. Don’t even brush your teeth with it,’” she intoned, checking items off her fingers as if ticking them off a list. “‘Bring your own no-sugar sweetener, because very few places will have it. Lock everything you don’t want stolen in the safe in your hotel room.’” She made a face. “That last thing applies everywhere, unfortunately, not just here in China. I had my iPhone charger stolen out of my hotel room in Washington, DC, one time.”

“What were you doing in DC?” Martin asked, buttering a roll.

Mindful of her security warnings, Savannah merely said, “Oh, I was there on a business trip.” She didn’t mention that, except for a cab ride around the city to see a few of the monuments from a distance, all she’d really seen was the view from her hotel—she wasn’t about to go into her fear of crowds with mere acquaintances. Which hammered home the difference between them and Niall. She hadn’t hesitated to confide in Niall her deepest secrets, because...well...because she felt as if she’d always known him. As if she could trust him.

And one other thing. She was falling for him. Hard.

Was she going to get her heart broken? Probably. But she didn’t care. She wasn’t foolish enough to think he was Mr. Right. But if she played her cards well, he could be Mr. Right Now.

She looked up from her plate suddenly, and there he was, standing in the entrance to the restaurant. So tall. So ridiculously fit. So reassuringly male. And all at once she remembered how he’d kissed her last night, then left her because he was a gentleman.

Their eyes met across the short distance, and she beamed at him. Her gaze slid to the empty chair next to hers, a blatant invitation. One he seemed to have no hesitation accepting.

“Mind if I join you?”

Savannah just smiled her welcome, but Tammy said, “The more, the merrier. Grab a plate of food. Want me to order coffee for you?”

“Sure. Black.” He glanced down at Savannah’s now-empty plate. “Come keep me company,” he invited. “You can tell me what was good.”

He didn’t really need her recommendations, but he wanted her company. That was all Savannah could think of as she followed him to the buffet. She took an empty plate and added some fruit, watching while Niall piled his plate high with protein, no carbs and no fruit. “Is that how you stay in such great shape?” she asked. “Mega protein?”

He smiled lazily down at her. “I eat things other than meat. But not where you can’t trust the water that comes out of the tap.”

“Oh.” She glanced at the cut fruit on her plate.

“You think they wash the fruit in bottled water?”

“Oh,” she repeated blankly. “I never thought of that.” She mentally reviewed what she’d already eaten, and felt slightly queasy. Her expression must have given her away, because he said, “It’s probably not an issue, so don’t start second-guessing yourself. Just keep it in mind going forward.”

* * *

Niall and Savannah left the restaurant together. “Don’t forget the tour bus leaves at eight,” Tammy called after them. “And the tour guide said they wouldn’t wait for us if we weren’t on the bus. You don’t want to miss the Forbidden City.”

“We’ll be there,” she assured her new acquaintance. “No way would I miss that.”

Niall steered her toward the front door. “Let’s go look at the fountain,” he told her. “There’s something I want to discuss with you in private.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It’s not meant to be,” he began, then amended, “Well...maybe it is. It’s about last night.”

“You mean the attempted break-in?”

“I don’t think it was a break-in, Savannah,” he said, his voice very deep. Very serious. And obviously very concerned. “I think you were targeted. And I don’t think they planned to rob you.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I talked with hotel security last night and this morning—that’s where I was before breakfast. This hotel has extensive security cameras at all the entrances, and they reviewed the tapes. No one wearing the clothing I saw entered or left the hotel last night, with or without masks. Which means they didn’t leave the hotel. Which means they either work here...or they’re guests.” He paused, then added softly, “And if they’re guests, my money says they’re on the tour.”