Blind Fury Read online

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  In the dark, he listened to her breathing. If his heart stopped right now, he’d die happy. Unfortunately, morning would intrude soon enough. And after he set the rest of his plan into motion tomorrow, nothing would ever be the same again.

  Jenna woke on Thursday morning encapsulated by Mick. His heat, his scent, his warm breath on her neck. Sometime during the night, his carefully neutral hand had tucked under her hip and pulled her closer.

  It would be so easy to roll over and kiss him. She desperately wanted to. She’d had several hours of restless sleep after their talk last night. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she would have done in their shoes.

  How scary it must be working in a foreign country where it feels like everyone wants to kill you. She didn’t condone what happened, but maybe she could understand it. And now that her emotions had cooled, she wasn’t so eager to blame Mick. For being involved or for coming home alive.

  She was glad he hadn’t died alongside her brother. Her anger and grief over Rob’s choices and their ultimate outcome had found a handy target in Mick, but she loved him too much to wish things had turned out differently.

  Besides, it wasn’t his fault that Rob had stayed too long. And, according to Mick, it wasn’t her fault either. She loved him for saying so, even if she didn’t quite believe it.

  And she loved him for protecting her, despite the risk to himself. He had become the dependable, honorable man she’d always suspected he was capable of being.

  Sure, he had a few problems. A few rough edges to smooth out. And he probably needed some counseling. She could help with all of that. Once they were safe again, she could return his loyalty by sticking with him through the aftermath, no matter what happened.

  Never mind that they were currently running for their lives. This wouldn’t last forever, and she had nothing but possibilities ahead of her. She would go wherever Mick wanted to be. She only needed to convince him to let someone else do the dirty work in the Middle East. He’d done his fair share.

  Flipping to face him in the pale light of dawn, she stroked the stubble on his cheek, letting the rough hair tickle her palm. His eyes opened and he stared at her, the question clear on his face. Without giving him time to speak, she kissed him.

  His muscles tensed, and he pulled back. “Jenna, you don’t—“

  “Shh.” She captured his mouth again and fitted her body against his, snuggling into his warmth and sending shivers of delight along her skin.

  And then it was as if someone had flipped a switch. He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him, his hands roaming everywhere. They were under her shirt and over her jeans, cupping her buttocks. His hand pressed her into his erection and his mouth left a hot trail along her jaw and down her neck.

  Little noises of delight escaped her lips as her whole body lit up with desire. He grasped her under the arms and lifted her higher, pushing her shirt over her head. She’d removed her bra to sleep, and when he encountered her bare breast, he groaned and latched on.

  A current zinged straight from his mouth to her groin. More, more, more. The things he was doing with his tongue and hands were driving her insane. She wanted to mesh with him completely, become one body, one soul, one mind.

  “Take your pants off,” he commanded in a hoarse whisper, yanking at her zipper.

  She stood over him and pulled them down, watching him watch her. He reached up and snagged her panties, and she stood there bare, trapped by his gaze. The only thing that saved her from dying of embarrassment was his groan.

  He whipped his shirt off and tugged her down onto her knees, circling his arms around her thighs, moving her in toward his mouth. Both shocked and titillated, she placed her hands on his chest for support and closed her eyes.

  “Yum,” he murmured, putting his mouth on her, stirring additional sensations with his fingers as he expertly teased her to new heights.

  He used his tongue and lips relentlessly, pulling her higher until she almost couldn’t bear it. Then his fingers slipped inside her, unleashing wave after wave of pleasure that pulsed from her core and out along her limbs. She bit back a cry and tried to collapse onto his chest.

  “Uh-uh. I’m not done with you yet,” he said, giving her a wicked smile. “Not by a long shot.”

  Mick loved watching Jenna unravel under his touch. He hadn’t expected her to ever want his touch again. And he still couldn’t shake the belief that when this was all over she was going to change her mind. Just in case this was the last time he had her naked in his arms, he’d make damn sure she never forgot it.

  He brought her to climax so many times he lost count, and when she finally slid limply to his chest, he was in danger of coming at the slightest contact. Which might be a good thing, because he didn’t have any condoms. She sprawled across him, her breath slowing along with her heartbeat. He trailed his fingers down her back and tried to conjure calming images.

  After a few minutes she pushed up onto her knees and patted his hip. “Let me see it.”

  “What?” But he knew.

  She wanted to see his pararescue tattoo. The tradition that dated back to Vietnam, when the helicopters the PJs took to rescue downed pilots had been dubbed Jolly Green Giants.

  Mick stripped out of his pants and boxers, and flipped onto his stomach to show her the small pair of green footprints inked on his butt cheek.

  She kissed the back of his neck and then covered the artwork with her palm. “You’re still that man. The one who earned this.”

  Tears burned behind his eyes and he rolled over to take her in his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  She gave him a long, slow, exploratory kiss, rubbing her body along his, quickly rekindling his desire. At that moment he would have killed for a condom. “Jenna, honey,” his voice cracked. “I don’t have any—“

  Her finger touched his lips. “Your turn,” she said, scooting down his torso, planting wet kisses on his chest and stomach.

  His cock pulsed in anticipation. Calm, calm, ice water, cold showers, Mrs. Burkowicz from third grade…

  Her mouth closed over him and he almost lost it right then. She was wicked, licking, sucking, and stroking until he passed the point of no return. He didn’t want to lose control with her. “Ah, baby. I can’t—” He half-heartedly pushed her away.

  Ignoring his protest, she sucked him from base to tip and then back again. He trembled with the effort to hold back, but then she cupped his balls and gave them a gentle squeeze. The move was so unexpected that he let go with a cry, his body exploding into pure light. Jenna took everything he had to give without complaint, and rose above him with a shy smile.

  He came back to himself lazily, suspended in a haze of pure pleasure. His head buzzed, his fingers tingled, and his limbs were too heavy to move, so he just watched her. She was so beautiful in the dawn glow, her face still flushed. He wanted to see her like this every morning of his life.

  She planted a kiss on his stomach and he jerked his hips, laughing, suddenly sensitive and ticklish.

  “Sorry,” she said, stretching out on top of him to rest her head on his chest.

  “I’m not.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, giving his hip a playful slap.

  “I know.” He stroked her hair, sifting the silken curls through his fingers. “That was…You’re…”

  She lifted her head to look at him.

  “I love you.”

  The words tumbled out before he realized what he was going to say. Telling her hadn’t been part of his plan, but he wanted her to know that she was more than just good sex, more than a fling to him.

  He didn’t know how else to express all that.

  Her lips parted and she smiled as if he’d given her a gift. “I love you too,” she said, planting a quick kiss on him before dropping her head to his chest again and squeezing him tight.

  I’m sorry.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A W
ARM GLOW SPREAD through Jenna’s body as she lay in Mick’s arms. The arms of the man she loved. The arms of the man who loved her back. Jenna could face anything now that she knew that. For the first time in days, she felt hopeful.

  She and Mick rinsed off in the shower, using the cleaner side of the blanket to dry off before putting their old clothes back on. She changed his bandages, and they ate the energy bars she’d bought the previous night. Some coffee to wash down the food would have been fantastic, but she settled for bottled water. What she really needed was to forget everything they’d done on the floor this morning. The happy memories were messing with her focus. “Okay, last night you said your plan included telling me about Rob. So, what’s the rest of this great idea of yours?”

  “I’m not sure great is the right word, but I was thinking that the reason we’re being chased is to keep us from telling anyone what we know, right?”

  “Presumably, yes,” she said. “Both about the smuggling and how Rob died.” She had a good idea where he was going with this, but she let him get there in his own way.

  He nodded. “So it makes sense to me that if we take everything public there’d be no reason for them to shut us up. The damage would be done. Like you said before, the police or the FBI might not do anything with the evidence, but what if we take it to that reporter you contacted?”

  “Why are you suddenly so ready to go to the media with this after all the effort you’ve put into keeping me quiet?”

  He looked down at his hands, absently rubbing the calluses and small scars he’d earned over the years. “I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready.” His gaze met hers. “But I don’t see another way to get these guys off our backs. They’ve already made it clear they’ll do anything to keep us quiet.”

  Her heart broke for him. “You and the other guys will take a lot of heat from the media and anyone else who gets involved. And the State Department might not be able to sweep the incident under the rug if you do this.” Jenna’s stomach dipped. He could go to jail. After all that they’d been through, she could lose him anyway.

  His jaw tightened. “I know, but I’m all out of ideas.”

  “I can’t think of anything better either.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “But I’ll be with you the whole way.”

  “This means going out. We have to assume our pictures are everywhere now.” He took a bottle from the pocket of his pullover. “How do you feel about going red?”

  Good question. She’d never dyed her hair before. “It beats getting caught, right?” But red? Talk about standing out in a crowd.

  Since they had no towels, Mick applied the dye while she kneeled over the tub. “What about your eyebrows?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to get that stuff too close to my eyes. I have a light brown eyeliner pencil in my tote bag. I think it’ll be close enough.” The hair color wasn’t bright red anyway, more like an auburn.

  “Should I leave it in for the full ten minutes?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. According to the stylist, my hair is very porous. Apparently that’s why it used to turn green from the swimming pool. How about eight?”

  “Green, huh?” He grinned and set the timer on his watch. “I’ll bet you looked like a mermaid.”

  More like a sea monster. The kids had teased her mercilessly.

  When his watch beeped, he rinsed her hair until the water ran clear. The feel of his fingers massaging her scalp sent warm tingles down her spine. If only they had more time together.

  Pushing her disappointment aside, she squeezed her hair over the tub and let it drip for a few minutes before finger combing it and wringing it out again.

  When she sat up, Mick smiled. “Wow. I don’t think we need to worry about anyone recognizing you now.”

  She glanced in the mirror at the stranger with the chestnut strands. He was right. She wouldn’t even have recognized herself. And after a few strokes with the eyeliner pencil, her eyebrows were a decent match. Redheads often had pale brows anyway, so hers didn’t look weird. She rimmed her lashes with the eye pencil for good measure and stood back. “What do you think?”

  He gave her a quick, hard kiss, his eyes sparkling. “I think we’re home free.”

  “All right. Let’s go call James Longstreet.” Her pulse quickened. Whatever happened, they were going to finish this today. Then they’d finally be free to plan their future.

  Maybe he sensed the change in her mood, because he cupped her face and moved in for the longest, slowest, sweetest kiss he’d ever given her. He left her breathless and ready for more, her heart bursting with joy.

  After packing up their meager belongings, Jenna went through the house and cleaned up the evidence of their stay as much as possible. With any luck, the owners would never even know they’d had unwelcome visitors.

  She locked the basement door behind Mick and crawled out of the same window she’d climbed into the previous night. If anyone saw them now, the game would be up. The sun had risen and people were sure to be getting ready for work. They were hidden from view by trees and the mass of the house, but they had to get to the front without arousing suspicion.

  The neighbors to the north still had their blinds drawn, so she and Mick cut between the two homes on that side and stuffed their trash and the blanket into a can at the curb that was waiting for garbage collection.

  The morning air was cool, and when Jenna shivered, Mick removed his sweatshirt and handed it to her. “Here. It’s huge, but you’ll be more comfortable.”

  Too cold to refuse his chivalrous gesture, she slipped it over her head and covered her damp curls with the hood. “Thanks,” she said. “It’s still warm.” And it smelled like him too. She breathed in deeply. “I could go for some coffee,” she said, spying a shopping center at the next corner.

  “A coffeehouse would be a good place to test your disguise,” he said. “Once we’re done there, I’ll get Longstreet’s number from Information and call him.”

  Five minutes later they entered a cafe and she removed the hood of the sweatshirt. The delicious scent of coffee and pastries nearly brought her to her knees. Energy bars had nothing on a bacon-cheese croissant. She smiled at the cashier and gave her order.

  Moment of truth time. Did he recognize her? Could he tell she was in disguise? Would he suddenly point and yell, “It’s her!” to the small crowd? Maybe she didn’t look like a redhead. How did a redhead carry herself? Talk? Dress?

  She didn’t even know if she was considered a fugitive or a hostage. Her hands started to shake and her knees nearly buckled.

  Mick must have picked up on her sudden distress because he leaned over and whispered. “You’re rockin’ the look. Besides, everyone is absorbed in their own world.”

  Then he kissed her neck, sending shivers of delight to her toes, and she relaxed. Quit being stupid. He was right. Heck, if Hugh Jackman or Brad Pitt passed her on the street she’d probably be none the wiser. Why would anyone notice her?

  He paid for their meals and she wound her way through the rustic pine tables to a small round one near the back. No one even looked up as they passed. She waited for the coffee to warm her bones, digging lustily into her food. “This is delicious,” she said to Mick between mouthfuls. “Thanks.”

  He chuckled and pulled his baseball cap lower. His transformation wasn’t quite as dramatic as hers, especially now that his killer body was no longer hidden beneath a baggy pullover, but the cap and reading glasses still obscured his features.

  After a sip of his own drink, Mick unfolded the copy of the Washington Post he’d purchased. “Hmm, look at that.” He flipped it around so she could see the headline at the very bottom of the page, accompanied by two grainy black-and-white photos.

  Murder Suspect and Girlfriend Elude Police. The tiny snapshot of her had been taken at an office party. Her hair was pulled back sharply from her face and she was wearing professional clothing. The photo looked nothing like her, particularly now that she had red hair. Mick’s picture r
ivaled hers for ineffectiveness. The standard Air Force photo showed him standing next to an American flag in uniform. He looked like an ad for the new Aryan nation with his broad shoulders, fair hair, and light eyes, but he certainly didn’t look like the man sitting across from her.

  She breathed out a sigh of relief and her shoulders relaxed. They would be okay. For now, anyway.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Yes. Let’s get this over with.”

  He nodded and stared at her for a beat before standing, an unexpected frown on his handsome face. “I’ll go make the call.”

  “What the fuck happened this time?” Griffin yelled, barely able to contain his fury. The team’s efforts to silence Mick and Jenna were quickly becoming farcical.

  He still didn’t see the humor.

  On the other end of the phone line, Rizzo stammered. “Uh, they got away, sir.”

  Griffin took a deep breath. For Christ’s sake, he was surrounded by imbeciles. “How?” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  “Beavis missed and they ran for it.”

  “Let me guess. You have no idea where they are.”

  Rizzo cleared his throat. “Actually, sir, we got a break.”

  “Spill.” Partly mollified, Griffin sat back in his leather chair. Maybe things were finally turning around for him.

  “Remember those reporters you told us to monitor? Fury called one of them. Longstreet. They’re meeting in an hour.”

  Mick’s options were limited. Griffin had figured he’d either go to the police or the press, and he’d taken measures to deal with either scenario. Now he needed to make sure this problem disappeared. He’d spent too much time and money building up Claymore to let a bunch of murderous idiots ruin it.

  He’d let the men run the smuggling operation because he had more important things to do, and because he needed to keep his hands clean. But now their attempts to cover their tracks had put his latest bids in jeopardy. Billions of dollars were in danger of being lost because Alan Smith had taken matters into his own hands and noisily erased Rob Ryan from the picture.