Читать книгу Special Forces: The Operator - Cindy Dees - Страница 14

Rebel gulped. If there was one thing in the whole world she was terrible at, it would be dancing. “But, there’s no music,” she protested, praying the excuse would divert Avi.

He walked over to an intercom panel on the wall and pressed a few buttons. Lilting violin music suddenly blared. He turned the volume down and then turned to her, holding out a hand.

She looked around in panic. The room was plenty large enough to accommodate dancing. There were no apparent cameras to make an embarrassing record of her clumsiness. She resorted to confessing, “I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Well of course you are. Dancing is about expressing joy. And we’ve already established you need a lot of work in that department.”

She frowned, not appreciating being called a failure at anything, even if it was true.

He captured her hand, which she realized in some shock was waving around nervously, and tugged her to her feet.

“You’re going to regret this,” she warned him as he drew her into his arms.

“Put your right hand on my waist and your left hand on my shoulder...assuming you can reach my shoulder.”

She snorted. “Very funny. I’m not that short.”

“In my world, you’re practically a midget.”

Her eyes narrowed in challenge. “You’d be surprised the things I can do that a giant lout like you can’t even begin to do.”

“Sounds like a fascinating conversation for another time. But right now, I’m giving you a lesson in waltzing. First, listen to the music. One-two-three. One-two-three. Do you hear the downbeat?”

“Yes.”

“On each ‘one,’ I’m going to step forward with my right foot, and you’re going to step backward with your left foot. Like this. I’ll take it slow.” He placed both of his hands on her waist and guided her through the step.

Thank goodness. He just did the back step several times, and she caught on quickly.

“Now, we’re going to step to the side on the second and third beats. Like this. Step-together.”

She nodded after a few repetitions.

“And now we put them together, and we find the rhythm of the music. Just relax, and let me lead, okay?”

“Since when is this a trust exercise?” she blurted.

He smiled down at her a little ruefully. “Leave your left hand on my shoulder and put your right hand in mine.” She grasped his hand, as always stunned by the electric energy flowing from him.

“I have to say, Rebel, I didn’t expect you to discover my real motive so quickly. This is entirely about trust. That and loosening you up a little. You are a smart one, aren’t you?”

She might have answered, but he whisked her backward and into a whirl around the room that took her breath away. His hands moved her with effortless power, but still, she had to concentrate on relaxing and releasing the habitual tension from her body.

Ahh, but when she did, they were suddenly dipping and swooping, turning in light, swift circles until she felt like a swallow in flight. It was actually a rather fantastic sensation. The music lifted them off their mortal feet, spinning them into a breathless world of candlelit magic.

Or maybe it was the big, graceful man staring down at her, his eyes as dark as midnight, the expression in them bemused. If there had been any humor in his expression when they started the waltz, by the time the song ended, it was long gone.

The music shifted into some other, more formal rhythm, and they came to a stop beside the table. His hand was warm and firm on her waist, and his fingers flexed, tightening momentarily against her side.

He released her abruptly, stepping back almost as if startled. She knew the feeling. She was shocked to her toes. That had been an almost-sexual experience. And it had been wonderful. Which begged the question of why he’d insisted on dancing with her. Had trust and getting her to chill out been his only motives, after all? Or had he been subtly demonstrating to her that he knew how to woo a woman?

For no doubt about it, he most definitely knew what he was doing in that department.

It almost made a girl wonder if maybe the problem with sex in her life prior to this had been men of inadequate knowledge rather than the sex itself.

Hmm. Sex with Avi Bronson. A suddenly fascinating concept.

The door opened, and their waiter wheeled in a cart loaded with what turned out to be the most delectable food she’d ever tasted. Quail roasted to tender perfection with herbed skin that was crispy and savory, oyster stuffing that made her groan in delight and tender asparagus that was so fresh and light she wanted to ask for more—and she didn’t even like asparagus, normally.

She refrained from licking her plate, but it was a struggle. She looked up at Avi in regret. “You do realize you’ve ruined me for ever enjoying an MRE again.”

“You like dehydrated military food?” he exclaimed.

“I did. But now... I shudder to think what it will taste like in comparison to this.”

He smiled indulgently. “My work is done, then.”

Something disappointed landed with a thud in the bottom of her stomach. Drat. She’d really hoped he might be interested in showing her more of these sophisticated pleasures she’d heretofore had no idea existed.

“Why the sad face?” he asked quickly.

“I’m sorry this meal has to end.”

“Never fear. We have several more courses to go.”

“Where am I going to put more food? You do realize I’m going to have to work out like mad for a week to burn off all these calories.”

He shrugged. “I’ll go for a run with you tomorrow if you’d like. After all, it’s my fault you indulged like this. I’m obligated to help with damage control.”

Hmm. That would be interesting. She enjoyed running and was one of the fastest Medusas. “You’re on.”

She was done with dessert and sipping a cup of coffee so good it nearly brought her to tears when she finally remembered to ask, “By the way, what was the piece of intelligence you said you’d gotten?”

He sighed. “And, the pleasant interlude ends. Back to business, eh?”

She smiled a little at the disappointment in his voice. “Sorry.”

“When you apologize like you mean it, I’ll know I’ve broken through that workaholic exterior of yours.”

“Good luck with that.” She set down her coffee cup. “The intel?”

“Right. A source in Tehran reports that Mahmoud has spent the past six months or so training with a team of approximately eight operatives on a military base. They were seen going in and out of mocked-up buildings repeatedly.”

“Sounds like they were training for a specific attack,” she commented.

“That’s how I would interpret it, as well.”

“Any information on what the buildings looked like?”

“No. Our source isn’t that highly placed.”

“Still. Are you going to take me seriously now when I say I saw Mahmoud and Yousef and that I’m convinced they dumped the chlorine in the pool?”

“I always took you seriously, Rebel.”

“Yeah, but no one else is likely to.”

“Do you want me to put forward your theory to the IOC security team because they would take me more seriously?”

She sighed. “I appreciate the offer, but I expect Major Torsten will tell them about it if he thinks I’ve adequately backed up my theory with evidence.”

“He’s a good man. He won’t take credit for your work. You’ll get the credit.”

“Or the blame,” she added.

Avi shrugged. “If you think you’re right, stick by your guns. Who cares if you got this one wrong? We all make mistakes from time to time. Better to be overcautious and be wrong than say nothing and have a preventable attack happen.”

“Yes, but this is the first time the new Medusas have worked the Olympic Games. If I’m making a wrong call and people get all worked up for no reason, the egg will be on all of my teammates’ faces along with mine.”

“You’re a team, right? Wouldn’t you suffer a little humiliation on behalf of one of your sisters?”

“Well, yes.”

“And they would do the same for you. Don’t second-guess yourself. Trust your gut.”

He was right. She took a deep breath. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Anytime.”

The waiter brought back Avi’s credit card, and he signed the check quickly.

“Do I want to know what that meal cost?” she asked.

“No. But it was worth every shekel to watch you enjoy yourself like that.”

Alarmed, she let him hold her chair as she stood up. Had she made a spectacle of herself? The idea sent shivers of horror across her skin. If she’d learned nothing else in her father’s repressive home, it was that women should never, ever, draw attention to themselves.

“What were you thinking about just then?” Avi asked, startling her out of dark memories.

“Nothing.”

Avi responded evenly, “I’m not letting you get away with putting me off like that. Tell me what you were thinking about.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because it put pain in your eyes. I want to know what or who hurt you.”

He sounded half-prepared to go out and beat up bullies on her behalf. Which was sweet. And strange. She wasn’t accustomed to any man looking out for her. In fact, she’d spent most of her adult life making sure no man needed to look out for her.

She glanced up. He was staring down at her expectantly. He looked ready to stand there all night, not moving an inch, until he got his answer.

Well, hell. She huffed and then admitted, “I was thinking about my father.”

“Your father? Why would he put such pain in your eyes?”

“Because he wasn’t—isn’t—a very nice man. He believes that women should be seen and not heard. And that women should stay out of men’s way.”

Sarcasm lacing his voice, he responded, “He must love your job choice.”

“We don’t speak.”

“Ahh.” A pause. Then Avi said quietly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried, and I’m sorry your father is a jerk. But thank you for letting me know what I have to overcome.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, now I know that not only will you be sensitive to feeling smothered, but you’ll also have issues with domineering men.”

“I don’t—” She broke off. “Okay, fine. I do.”

He gifted her with a smile so beautiful she could hardly look at it or at him. Lord, he was a handsome man.

He said, “Thank you for your honesty. I value it more than just about any trait in my friends.”

Only friends? And there went her stomach again, dropping into her shoes in disappointment. Since when did she want to be more than friends with this man?

Since he’d taught her how to waltz and introduced her to fine cuisine—and not only saw her as a soldier, but also saw her as a woman.

Which also made her feel naked. Vulnerable. Most people ignored her, and she tended to prefer it that way. Too bad he hadn’t seen her as more. It would have been nice if this man had looked at her and seen a woman of interest, maybe even a potential romantic interest.

But no. He’d seen a friend.

It was better than nothing. But not by much.

If only she was more capable at the whole romance and seduction thing. But that was like wishing she could hold the moon in her hand. It was never going to happen.

* * *

Their walk back to the Olympic Village was quiet, and Avi was content to let Rebel stew in her thoughts. He was prepared to move slowly with her, take his time and let her work out whatever she needed to work out in her head before he pushed her to the next level. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man could proposition for cheap sex after a date or two and expect an affirmative response.

Huh. Since when had he started to consider sleeping with her?

He thought back and pegged it at the moment when she’d shown him her map of the injured athletes in the pool. Her passion and intensity had been sexy as hell.

He glanced sidelong at her as they crossed a busy street crowded with drunks. She was a tiny little thing, but it was easy to miss that because of how big her intellect and confidence were. Oh, she hid both well. As any good special operator should. But they were there. And sexy, too.

When he’d finally gotten her to relax into the waltz, she’d been light as air in his arms. A good natural athlete, she was, to pick up the dance so quickly. In touch with her body. Which was promising for more intimate dances—

He should really stop imagining sex with her. They both had a job to do. And although this was far below the usual level of danger he operated in, both of them needed to give the security of their respective delegations their full attention.

Maybe after the games were over he could volunteer to do some training with the Medusas, possibly as an instructor, or in some sort of exchange program with his team to run scenarios using teams of women operators. He could sell it to his superiors as an observation trip to see if the Israelis should consider training a female Spec Ops team of their own.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.

“Does your team ever run exercises with foreign teams?” he asked abruptly.

“To date, we’ve mostly had individual foreign instructors come to our main training facility to work with us as we come up to speed. We haven’t worked with full teams. You’d have to ask Major T. if he ever plans to put us in the field on exercises. Right now, he’s keeping our existence under pretty close wraps.”

As well he should. The Medusas were safer the fewer people knew they existed. And apparently, he’d also developed a sudden interest in the safety of the Medusas, along with Torsten.

“This is my stop,” Rebel announced, jerking him out of planning how to sell an exercise with the Medusas to his boss.

They were, indeed, standing in front of the American security team’s building.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

She froze, startled as most Americans were when they first encountered the European habit of kissing pretty much everyone. He smiled to himself as he turned away. He was enjoying throwing her off balance far more than he should. But it would be good for her to pop that boring bubble she tried to hide in.

As for him, he was headed for his room to change into dark clothing, and then he was going to stake out the small apartment building the Iranian delegation was staying in by itself at the request of the Iranian government. Not that he blamed them. The Israelis had insisted on having a facility to themselves, too.

Midnight had come and gone when Avi spied movement out the back door of the Iranian building. He zoomed in his binoculars. Four men and two women, dressed in the black tracksuits of the Iranian team slipped outside.

Apparently, the mice were planning to play while they were away from the cat. Although, the Iranian government usually kept a ridiculously tight leash on its athletes overseas, too. Which explained why he was surprised this bunch tonight had made it out of their quarters successfully. He waited for any possible tails to slip out of the building to follow the athletes, but none did.

He briefly debated staying to watch the building or giving in to his curiosity to see what the Iranian athletes did when off the leash. His curiosity won.

They were almost out of sight, now, heading toward the south end of the village and the many athletic complexes clustered there. He had to hurry not to lose them. There were plenty of facilities open around the clock in the village—the dining hall, gyms, game rooms, media rooms, medical and physio offices. So why were the Iranians headed toward the sports complex at this hour? The venues would all be closed, locked up and locked down.