Читать книгу The Men In Uniform Collection - Barbara McMahon - Страница 35

CHRISTIE SAT WITH HER FEET pulled up on the chair and her arms around her knees as she waited for Seth and Boone to put the groceries away.

She should help, but she didn’t want to. Mostly, she wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“I didn’t know which cheesecake to get,” Seth said, “so I got a couple.”

That made her look. He’d picked up plain and strawberry, which perked her up a little. So did the big box of Lucky Charms he pulled out of the bag.

Boone had remembered. A really considerate, sweet thing to do. Now that things were a little calmer, she’d thought about before the gunshot. The sex.

She tried to remember when she’d made love like that. She’d actually come with no extra help. Usually—no, always—she couldn’t. She either asked her companion to give her some specialized attention, or she brought out the vibrator. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, just the way she was built. Or so she’d thought.

Maybe it was how he was built, or how he’d lifted her legs. Or maybe it was because he was Boone.

No. She wasn’t going there. Boone wasn’t the magic one, he was the temporary hero, which was different. This was a traumatic time, and she was clinging to him for dear life. It would be a terrible mistake to romanticize things. He certainly wasn’t.

A knock at the door brought two weapons into play. It was totally automatic, like covering her mouth when she sneezed. Both Boone and Seth were ready to react in a heartbeat, ready to kill, if necessary. Professional soldiers without a war. Which begged the question, how could the military let these particular soldiers go?

She knew something about their training. It was the most vigorous, brutal routine there was. Delta Force was focused on terrorism, and these men knew how to handle situations from stopping a sniper to foiling an airplane hijacking. They knew how to use every kind of weapon from knives to high explosives. CIA operatives had nothing on Delta Force when it came to surveillance and tracking. If anything, the army should be begging them to come back, not making them hide.

Nate had refused to talk about it. Even when she’d used her sister card, he kept his mouth shut. She knew, though, that whatever had gone down in the Balkans had been seriously bad. Afterward, Nate, who’d always been meticulous about his appearance, had become sloppy about his clothes. He hadn’t had a haircut, which was totally bizarre, because he thought the ladies loved his cut. The last time they’d talked, he’d been sullen and nervous, and he’d barely eaten, even though he was as thin as she’d ever seen him.

Kate walked in, and she nodded at Christie before she got a cup of coffee. The three of them sat down at the table, Boone to her left. Seth and Kate had notebooks and pens.

“So what the hell happened?” Kate asked.

“Wait,” Boone said. “Christie, why don’t you get something to eat. Refill your coffee.”

She nodded. “Anyone else want cheesecake?”

Seth did, so she served up a couple of slices before she sat down.

By that time, Kate had pulled out a spreadsheet. On it was everything she’d found out about every man Christie had dated.

But before they got to that, Seth wanted to know what had happened at the house.

“The geek knew we were in the living room. He had a scoped rifle, I’m thinking an M24. Laser scope. He had a bead right on my chest, so he wasn’t aiming blind.”

“He had a camera.”

Boone nodded as Seth cursed. He’d eaten half his dessert, but now he pushed it away as if he didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t know how I could have missed it. I went through that house with a fine-tooth comb.”

Boone sighed. “I’m pretty sure he drilled, sent in a pinhole on a fiber-optic cable. I don’t think it was there until after you left.”

Seth crossed his arms. “Then we shouldn’t have left.”

“The point is, we have to find this guy. Now. Not later. He’s accelerating, but he’s not entering. What does that tell us?”

“He’s a coward,” Kate said.

“True. What else?”

“His objective is to terrify and control.”

Boone nodded. “He wants me, us, out of the way. So he can have her to himself.”

“To do what? Own her?” Kate asked. “Or is this revenge?”

Now it was Christie’s turn to push away her cheesecake. It turned her stomach, how they were talking about her, but she knew it was necessary. If they wanted to stop the bastard, they had to dissect his motivations. She just wasn’t sure she was strong enough to hear them.

“You okay?”

Boone was concerned, his hand over hers, that crease above his nose deep.

“I think I’m going to go watch TV with Milo. Call if you need me.” She left the room and went right to the bedroom, to Boone’s sad bed. Milo trotted in, and she coaxed him up next to her. Then she looked around for the remote.

“Is this what you’re looking for?”

Boone stood near the dresser, holding the remote.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He walked it over to her and sat on the edge of the bed. “You should try and get some sleep.”

She shrugged.

“Don’t give up. These are the best people I know.”

“What if he’s better?”

“He isn’t.”

She hugged Milo. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

Boone looked at her for a long time, then he stood and put his gun on the bedside table. “You can use this until we get back to your place.”

She watched his back as he left the room, then she turned to the gun. It was too much to think about. Guns and what she used to think of as home. She picked up the remote and turned on the TV. She hadn’t thought of TV in weeks, if not months. It was so bright and loud. The people looked happy. Normal. How could the world go on when hers had turned upside down? She lay down, hugging the pillow instead of the dog. And she smelled Boone. His scent was in the sheets. It wasn’t a cologne, it was the man. Completely distinct, she’d know it anywhere.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, oddly comforted.

TERROR PROPELLED HER UP THE bed where her head cracked against the wall. A hand touched her shoulder, a chest pressed against her side and her breath ran out before her scream.

“Christie, it’s me. Christie.”

She gasped as she struggled against him, the voice familiar but it was dark and her heart pounded so hard it hurt her chest.

“Shh, Christie, honey, it’s okay.”

Her fingers released the blanket and grabbed on to Boone’s shirt. It ripped as she forced him closer, needing to feel him, to make him real. He touched her hair, her side, and she pulled as if she could climb right inside him.

“It’s okay, it’s all right,” he said, over and over, until the words made sense and she didn’t feel as if she were going to die.

Her mouth found his and she breathed him in, and still he wasn’t near enough. Her hand went to his neck, her leg wrapped around his hips and she needed him so much.

If he hadn’t kissed her back, she would have cried until the ocean was dry, but he did, he kissed her, hard and deep.

What she needed was Boone, just Boone. Only him, and no one else. Her hand went under his shirt to touch his warm skin. She pressed her palm over his heart but she couldn’t find the beat.

He thrust again into her mouth, his tongue rigid and thick, and she captured him between her teeth and sucked hard, making him moan and push up with his hips.

Her hand moved from his chest to his waist, to the panic of getting him unbuttoned and unzipped. He went to help and she shoved him away.

When she released his tongue, he pulled back, away from her, and it didn’t matter because she had his zipper down and when she reached inside his pants he was hard and ready.

“Christie,” he said, his voice a coarse growl, warning her.

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t you dare.”

“You had a nightmare. You’re scared.”

She held him in her fist, almost squeezing. “Damn right I’m scared. You were almost killed. You got that? Killed. It could all be over in a heartbeat, and I’m not going down empty, you hear me? I won’t.”

“Stop it,” he said. “You’re not going to die. I’m not going to let you die.”

She pumped him with one hand, the other went to his waistband to push his pants down and off. When she couldn’t push any farther, she reached for her own, desperate to be naked, to have him inside her.

“Christie. Wait.”

“No. Don’t.”

“I’m not leaving you, I swear to God. Just slow down. Take a breath.”

“Go to hell,” she said as she pushed her pants down her thighs.

“I’m not going anywhere, I told you,” he said, his hand circling her wrist.

It was dark, so she couldn’t see his face well, and she couldn’t tell if he was mad, but he wanted her, she knew that, so what the hell was his problem?

“Talk to me, honey. Tell me what scared you so badly.”

“What scared me? Haven’t you been paying attention?” She jerked her wrist free. “I don’t want to talk. I want to screw. Now.”

“I don’t.”

She reached for his cock again, but he stopped her before she touched him. “Liar.”

“I don’t want to screw. Not now, not with you.”

“Don’t preach at me, dammit.”

“I’m not. I just want you to slow down. We can do whatever you want. But let’s take our time, okay?”

She pulled away from him completely, kicking off the stupid blankets and her pants. Naked from the waist down, except for his socks, she wanted to laugh at herself, but she was so afraid that it wouldn’t be laughter at all.

Boone was right, she had been dreaming. This time, she hadn’t seen the red dot in time. Boone had fallen over her body, dead, and his blood had been hot and thick, like the blood all over her bed.

Why couldn’t she stop shaking? Boone was alive, and the blood on the bed was fake, so why did she feel as if she were going to be sick if she didn’t do something right now?

He touched her shoulder, making her jump. “Okay?”

She nodded, and his hand gentled. It was so large and warm. If she just focused on his touch, she’d be okay. She’d stop trembling.

He moved over so he was sitting beside her. His legs touched hers and she didn’t even care that he was still dressed. She leaned over, pressing herself against the hard bulk of his body.

His arm slipped around her shoulder. And then, with his other hand, he touched her face. He was so tender, she cried out. Tears came then, and he kept stroking her cheek, whispering soft words that meant nothing and everything. She tried to stop, but there was no stopping. The tears poured out of her, wracking sobs that shook her so that she didn’t feel the old trembling at all. Boone brought her closer but never stopped touching her.

Finally, she was empty. The only thing holding her together was the arm around her shoulder, the touch of gentle, coarse fingers against her skin. She looked up into his face, and even though it was dark and there were shadows all around her, she saw the kindness in his eyes. He knew. He understood.

He came toward her slowly, still patient and watching, until his lips brushed hers. The panic was over and now she understood his caution. This was what she’d wanted all along. To be close, to be cared for.

He kissed her more deeply, letting her know that there was no rush, that she was safe. Only when she parted her lips did she feel his desire, hot and sweet on her tongue.

For a long time, they just kissed. As the seconds drifted by, everything outside faded and she felt herself relax deep inside. When her hand went to his thigh, he didn’t try to stop her. She stretched her fingers out but they didn’t reach all the way across. The memory of him in the bathtub, before they’d made love, when he’d given her comfort. She pulled back, wishing she’d turned on the light. “Are you sure you’re a soldier?”

He laughed softly. “I’m pretty sure.”

“How’d you get to be so nice?”

“I’m not that nice.”

“Liar.”

He shook his head, and then he kissed her again. A long, slow, deep kiss as they fell backward onto the awful bed. He lifted her shirt, patiently moving first the right side, then the left. They parted, but only so he could pull it over her head. Where it went after that, she had no idea. But the move did rouse her to finish the job she’d started before. His jeans were already undone, so she pulled and tugged until they were off.

Eventually, they were naked. Boone had maneuvered them into the traditional position, then pulled the covers up to their waists. She rested now, her head in the crook of his arm, her leg curled over his, touching as much of him as she could.

“It’s late,” he said.

“So?”

“You have to be exhausted.”

She moved her hand down to his cock. Bless his little testosterone-laden body, he was still hard. “Make love to me until I fall asleep.”

He laughed again, but a moment later, he was over her, his legs between hers, his hands on either side of her head. One kiss, fast, then a nibble on her chin. Before she could even react, he’d moved down to her chest, to her breasts, and his tongue painted slow circles around and around, coming near, but not touching her nipples.

She reached for him and tugged at his hair, letting him know that teasing was fine and good, but damn.

A quick study, he took her right nipple between his teeth, not biting, just holding, and then he licked and sucked until she was squirming and pulling his hair a lot harder.

He stopped but only long enough to torment her left nipple in the same dastardly fashion. The only thing she could do was wrap her legs around his waist and ride it out.

By the time he’d moved down, she was ready. As much as she loved the whole foreplay thing, that wasn’t what she wanted now. She pushed herself up by her elbows, and that got his attention.

“What?” he whispered, his voice as thick and low as his tongue.

“Please,” she said. “I want you in me.”

He didn’t move for a long moment, and she thought he was going to ignore her, especially when he bent his head. But all he did was kiss the top of her mound, then the top of each thigh. He rose up, so tall, his shoulders so wide and strong. His hands brushed her sides, moving slowly upward until he had to brace himself or fall.

She’d never wanted like this before. Not with the boy she’d thought she’d loved in college, not with the men she’d hoped would become the one. She opened herself to Boone, and when he pushed himself inside her, she felt something shift. She couldn’t have said where, except it was awfully close to her heart.

She folded herself around his body and wished again that she could see his eyes. In the end, it didn’t matter. She knew who he was. And she knew who she was with him.