Special Ops Exclusive (13 page)

When she reentered the room, Nick was no longer on the phone, but sitting on the bed, lost in thought.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

His head lifted in an abrupt motion, as if he truly hadn’t realized she was standing there. His lack of vigilance said a lot about his state of mind.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“So what happened? What did he say?”

“A lot.”

The two-syllable response brought a rush of aggravation. “Um, care to elaborate?”

Nick let out a heavy breath. “He says he’s been trying to locate me ever since I went off the grid, and that he didn’t believe for a second I would be discharged and take off without a word. He suspected there was a conspiracy in play, but he had no idea what it could possibly be related to, at least not until news of the Meridian virus was made public.”

“So he didn’t know about the virus,” she said.

“Dad insists he didn’t. He thought my disappearance was related to an op, that I might have been a POW somewhere and the military was trying to cover it up.” Nick hesitated for a second. “We’re meeting in an hour. He has some business to wrap up, and then he’s leaving the Pentagon and coming to meet me.”

Rebecca’s voice went dry. “And let me guess, you want me to stay put.”

“No.” He cleared his throat. “I want you to come with me.”

Chapter 12

N
ick didn’t blame Rebecca for looking so surprised. Since the day they’d met, he’d been demanding she stay behind, lie low, stay put—pretty much anything that involved keeping her out of the line of fire. And now here he was, actively seeking out her company for a potentially dangerous situation.

“You actually want me to come?”

Nick nodded.

Her green eyes flickered warily, as if she thought he might shout “Gotcha!” at any moment. “Um. Why?”

Helplessness squeezed his chest so hard his lungs hurt. “Remember that discussion we had in Mala about bias?”

“Yes...”

“Well, I am totally, categorically biased right now.” He stared at her in dismay. “This is my
father.
I believe with all my heart that he’s innocent, but...am I fooling myself here? Do I just want him to be innocent so damn bad that I’m unable to objectively examine the evidence?”

Sympathy softened her gaze. She moved closer, and he suddenly became aware that she wore nothing but a towel. Despite the misery tightening his throat, his traitorous body actually had the gall to respond to Rebecca’s scantily clad appearance. His groin stirred, thickened, throbbed. Pulse sped up. Mouth went dry.

“Then I’ll be the objective one,” Rebecca said in an earnest tone. “I have a talent for reading people and I can usually tell if someone is lying to me.”

“That’s why I want you to come along.”

She looked pleased, but then something shifted in her eyes and her chin lifted in perplexing determination.

“What is it?” he asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his tone.

“When do we have to meet him?”

“Midnight.”

She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Nick followed her gaze and saw the red numerals change from 11:32 to 11:33.

“How long will it take to get there?”

“Five or ten minutes. Why?”

“So we have some time, then.”

His eyes narrowed. “To do what, darling?”

“To help you forget.”

There was nothing ambiguous about her quiet, candid words. He knew exactly what she was suggesting, what she was offering. Heat stirred in his lower body, spreading through him until he was painfully hard again, but the indecision that hit him was as powerful as the lust.

He didn’t do casual flings. He preferred there to be
some
emotion involved in his sexual encounters.

There is,
a little voice pointed out.
You feel something for her.

Nick tried to silence the voice, but it was too late. The thought had already cemented itself in his mind, and he couldn’t deny the truth. He
did
care about Rebecca. He cared a lot. Maybe even too much.

“No more thinking.”

Her stern voice penetrated his thoughts and snapped him back to the present. To the gorgeous redhead standing in front of him. In a towel. Just a little white towel...

Rebecca took a step closer. “I’m serious. I can see your brain conjuring up all the reasons why we shouldn’t do this. Well, let me make it easy for you, okay?”

His mouth turned to sawdust when she reached for the knot holding her towel up.

“We’re doing this,” she went on.

She undid the knot.

“So deal with it, Nick.”

The towel dropped.

An instant wave of red-hot lust slammed into him and set his body on fire. His gaze roamed every inch of her naked body, from her perky breasts and cherry-red nipples, to the sweet curve of her hip, to the shapely legs that looked so smooth to the touch. Her lily-white skin was still pink from the shower, and it turned even pinker as his gaze trailed over all of that tantalizing flesh.

When he focused on the strip of red curls between her legs, Rebecca’s green eyes danced with humor. “Natural redhead,” she quipped.

He choked out a laugh. “I never had a doubt. You’ve got that redhead stubbornness, remember?”

Despite the alarms going off in his head, he found himself reaching out and touching her bare hip. Just the mere graze of his fingertips over her hip bone.

She shivered.

He quickly withdrew his hand. “This is a bad idea.”

“No, it’s not.”

“We...can’t.”

“Oh, for the love of God, Nick. Stop being so difficult and let me help you forget for a little while.”

With that, she climbed onto his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him senseless.

As her tongue filled his mouth and her fingers dug into the nape of his neck, Nick surrendered.

He kissed her back. Long, deep, desperate. The next few minutes were a blur. All he could see was Rebecca, all he could feel and smell and taste was Rebecca. They fell back on the mattress, her curvy naked body still plastered to his fully clothed one, and all the pent-up desire he’d felt for this woman came spilling out like water from a broken dam. Their kisses grew hotter, more intense, until they were both gasping for air, and suddenly Rebecca was clawing at the hem of his shirt in an attempt to pull it up.

With a husky groan, he helped her out, ripping the shirt off in one smooth motion, then tackling his zipper and shoving his cargo pants and boxers down his legs. When they were skin to skin, they let out simultaneous moans, their hands taking on lives of their own.

Nick explored every sweet curve, every feminine secret. While his pulse drummed in his ears, he squeezed her breasts, kissed them, laved them with his tongue, toyed with her nipples. He loved the way she moaned in response to his sensual ministrations. The way she pushed her breasts into his palms and begged for more.

When he slid one hand between her legs and discovered the liquid honey pooled in her core, he nearly lost it.

He needed this woman more than he needed his next breath, and it took every agonizing iota of willpower to leave her so he could rummage in his bag for a condom. He returned to the bed in a nanosecond, sheathed himself, then covered her body with his.

No more foreplay. No lead-up. But Rebecca didn’t seem to mind. She welcomed him into her wet heat and he groaned at the feel of her inner muscles clutching him like a glove.

“Oh, God.
Nick.
”

Her breathy words and the glaze of pleasure swimming in her eyes sent him soaring to a new level of
turned-on.
He withdrew slowly only to plunge back in fast, then met her eyes and murmured, “You’re incredible.”

She responded with a soft whimper and hooked her legs around his ass to deepen the contact.

The pleasure was unbearable. Unstoppable. He’d never been a selfish lover, but damn if he could stop this all-consuming train of lust. He needed it too badly. Wanted her too much.

His hips pistoned into her tight heat, his mouth fastening over hers. He kissed her until they were both breathless again. Despite that overwhelming need for release, he managed to hold off, to coax her closer to the edge by reaching down to rub her sensitive nub.

Only when Rebecca came apart beneath him did he let go. Closed his eyes, let the ecstasy consume him, let his mind go blissfully empty. When the waves of release finally ebbed, he collapsed on top of her. Drained. Sated.

Man, he’d needed that.

It took a few minutes to catch his breath, and then he rolled onto his side and drew Rebecca to him. Her hair tickled his left pec, her body warm and boneless as she snuggled close, but it wasn’t until she let out a little sigh of pure contentedness that the guilt made an appearance.

Jeez. He’d taken her hard and rough like a goddamn caveman. Hadn’t even taken the time to make her hot, to get her ready.

As he opened his mouth, armed with an apology, Rebecca suddenly grumbled in frustration.

“You think way too much, Nick.” Sighing again, she disentangled herself from his embrace and sat up. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. I wanted this. I
instigated
this.”

It didn’t surprise him that she’d read his thoughts and known exactly what he’d been about to say. “Right,” he said. “I forgot about your little seduction plot.”

She smiled ruefully. “This wasn’t part of the seduction. I...I was trying to help. You looked so sad and broken and...” She shrugged. “I wanted to make you feel good, even if it was just a temporary fix.”

Temporary. The word lingered in his mind, resonating with truth, reminding him of the reality of their circumstances. Whatever happened between him and Rebecca, it
would
be temporary. Eventually they’d have to say goodbye, and there was no way around that.

“But trust me, when I decide to full-on seduce you—” she stalked naked toward the tote bag she’d left on the carpet, tossing him a glance over her shoulder “—it’ll involve a lot more than a quickie before we have to meet your dad.”

Another rush of guilt rose inside him, but Rebecca yet again chided him before he could speak.

“No apologies,” she repeated. “I
wanted
a quickie. So, please, let’s just get dressed and get this meeting over with.”

He couldn’t figure out if this careless, no-biggie attitude of hers was a front, but there was no time to question her. She was right. At the moment, he needed to focus on this impending reunion with his dad.

The rest they could figure out later.

* * *

Secretary of Defense Kirk Barrett had already arrived when Nick and Rebecca emerged from the heavily wooded ravine bordering the park where they’d arranged to meet. Nick had spent the past fifteen minutes scouting the area to make sure a team of mercenaries or snipers wasn’t watching the park, and he had just concluded that the coast was clear.

That he even had to take such precautions when meeting his own
father
brought a pang of sadness to his chest. He hated considering that his dad might have an ulterior motive or that he may have planned an ambush, but Nick hadn’t stayed alive this long by being stupid. No matter how much he loved his father, he had to at least acknowledge the possibility that the man he’d always idolized could be involved in this conspiracy.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel a rush of relief when his recon turned up nothing out of the ordinary. As promised, Kirk Barrett had come alone.

“You ready?” Rebecca whispered as they stepped out of the woods where he’d forced her to wait until he determined it was safe to come out.

“Not really,” he mumbled.

The residential park contained a small playground and a circular concrete fountain with several wrought-iron benches situated around it. He and Rebecca walked through the shadows toward one of the benches where a lone figure sat in wait.

Nick’s heart soared, then got stuck in his throat like a piece of gum. A year. It had been a year since he’d seen his dad. Damn, he’d missed the old man.

At their approach, Kirk Barrett rose from the bench. Visible relief flooded those familiar brown eyes, and Nick was shocked to hear a choked sob slip out of his father’s mouth.

“Nicky.”

The next thing he knew, he was enveloped in his father’s arms. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had hugged him—the secretary rarely showed his affection in the form of physical contact. But here he was, hugging Nick so tight that his lungs started to burn from the lack of oxygen.

When they finally broke apart, Barrett urgently searched Nick’s face. “Are you all right, son?”

Nick nodded, feeling a little choked up himself. “I’m good. Thanks for coming, Dad.”

“Where the hell else would I be?” the secretary grumbled. “And where the hell have you been, Nicky? What the fu—” He stopped mid-expletive as he seemed to remember he was in the company of a woman. He glanced at Rebecca apologetically. “Pardon my language. I’m slightly rattled, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Rebecca smiled politely. “It’s all right.” She extended a hand. “Rebecca Parker.”

“Yes, I recognize you.” He took her hand. “Kirk Barrett.”

“I recognize you, too, sir.”

As they shook hands, Nick tried to gauge Rebecca’s reaction to his dad. Her green eyes revealed nothing but cordial interest and slight caution, making it difficult to figure out where her head was at.

His dad, on the other hand, was easy to read. Concern was splashed all over the older man’s face, those familiar handsome features that were so much like Nick’s. Kirk Barrett was in his early fifties, but he looked a decade younger; people often mistook him and Nick for brothers rather than father and son.

The secretary gestured for them to sit, his brown eyes never leaving his son’s face. “I thought you might be dead,” he said frankly. His voice hardened. “Why the
hell
haven’t you contacted me this past year?”

Nick let out a breath. “I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t know how high the conspiracy went, and I didn’t want to endanger you in any way. I was trying to protect you.”

“Endanger me? I’m your father, Nicholas!
I’m
the one who’s supposed to protect
you.
” Barrett held up his hand to silence Nick’s objection. “You should have contacted me. End of story.”

Nick couldn’t help but smile. He really had missed his dad’s deep, commanding voice and no-nonsense manner.

“But it’s in the past and we don’t concern ourselves with the past,” Barrett said brusquely. “So, now tell me everything. Every last detail.”

“That could take a while,” Nick said with a sigh.

In the end, it took nearly thirty minutes to recap the events of the past year. Nick told his father about the mission in Corazón, Hector Cruz’s confession that Dr. Harrison had killed the villagers, Sebastian’s encounter with the virus in D.C., the break-in at the hotel in Mala. Through it all, the secretary of defense said nothing. Didn’t blink, didn’t move, just listened silently while wearing that shrewd expression Nick had grown up with.

When Nick mentioned the attack on Rebecca and her crew, his father finally reacted, sympathy filling his eyes. “I saw it on television. Those were some horrific images.”

“Yes, they were,” Rebecca said sadly.

“I’m glad to see you’re all right. Everyone in the country was out of their minds with worry when that screen went black.” The secretary turned back to his son. “So I assume you and Ms. Parker tracked down our missing aide?”