WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) (37 page)

“That’s an amazing piece,” he said, even though he’d told her that before.

“I’m glad you like it.” She tossed him a smile over her shoulder. “I wrote it about you.”

He froze, remembering how that song had reached in and grabbed hold of his soul, bringing tears to his eyes. How the entire crowd had been enthralled by the haunting beauty of it. “Me?”

He didn’t…He couldn’t…To think that he’d been the one to inspire such haunting music. What had he done to deserve such an honor?

“Mm-hmm. I started working on it the first night we met. I have another song, one I didn’t sing at the concert, that’s about what happened with the attack on the bus. But I’m not ready to sing that one publicly yet.”

When he didn’t respond, she turned her head and raised her brows. She must have been able to tell that she’d left him speechless, because she directed him to set the table while she poured out the water from the pasta and mixed it with the sauce.

Still reeling from her revelation, but more determined than ever to make this last night memorable, he lit a couple of candles he found next to the sink, then shut off the overhead light.

He glanced several times at the landline phone, longing for it to ring, for her brother to say that yes, he’d help. Yet at the same time, Seth didn’t want anything to interrupt this private time with Kirra.

“So,” she said once they were both seated. “Who is Indy?”

“Ah. How to describe Indy, aka Marcus Jones. You could say he was the best damn helicopter pilot in the U.S. army.” Seth chuckled. “According to him, anyway.”

Kirra raised a brow. “Rivals?”

“Oh yeah. Best friends, too. Once upon a time.” He took a bite of pasta. “We had a fight, then I got transferred to Southeast Asia, and he ended up in Afghanistan. But before that, yeah, when we weren’t out raising hell together, we competed to see who was the better pilot. We had a friendly competition going about who was better.”

For the rest of the meal he told her stories about Indy and she responded by relating a few of the more amusing heists she’d pulled off. It was the most relaxed he’d felt around another person since before the attack in Southeast Asia. When they finished, he cleaned up, then performed a perimeter check.

Kirra had disappeared into the bedroom. He hesitated, then knocked on the door. He knew what he needed tonight, but he’d dragged her emotions all over the map today, so he didn’t know if Kirra was on the same page.

She answered his knock with a soft “Come in.”

He stepped inside, but she didn’t look up from her cross-legged position on the bed where she was scribbling in a notebook and humming an unfamiliar tune.

“Just a sec,” she murmured. “I need to get this last bit down.”

For a long while he stood in the doorway, watching her. She’d turned off the overhead light and wrote by the light of a lantern set on the bedside table. She was so vibrant, so full of goodness and life, that he still couldn’t understand how she’d come to love him.

“There. All done.” Kirra closed the notebook and rose from the bed. Her gaze heated as she prowled toward him and he shot straight into arousal. The worry and fear of the day slipped away. Right here, right now, there was no blackmailer. No assassin. No rebels. Only Seth and Kirra. And what he wanted more than anything was to make love to her one more time before he died.

He made a low sound of need and stepped toward her.

Her hands lifted and she peeled off her shirt and bra. His breath hitched as he drank in the sight of her. With a seductive smile, she slid her hands down her hips and unzipped her pants.

He reached for her, wanting to undress her slowly, but she lightly slapped his hands away, then leaned up and nipped his lip. The little pain shot pleasure straight to his groin.

He kissed her deeply. Ah, God. He’d never get enough of her. She tasted like heaven. Like every hope he’d ever had. He placed his hands on her hips, shoved her pants to the floor, and devoured her mouth.

Breaking the kiss, Kirra stepped out of the puddled fabric. Then she reached up with both hands to push her hair away from her face in a gesture at once sensual and innately feminine. The movement made her generous breasts jiggle, temporarily distracting him. He pulled her against him and reverently ran his hands from her shoulders, down to her waist, and back up again. A couple of raised scars interrupted the smooth, silky softness of her skin, but the scars served as reminders of Kirra’s strength. Humbled by the trust she’d placed in him by allowing him free access to her body, he stroked her again, punctuating the action with kisses along her jaw and down her throat.

He was rewarded by a completely feminine sound of pleasure. Smiling in satisfaction, he stepped back so that his hands could cup the heavy weight of her breasts.

But that’s all he did. Just held them. There was something very satisfying about touching a woman’s breasts. Something beyond the sexual. The heavy weight of her spilling over his palms pleased him as well as excited him. Because it was a sign of trust. And having Kirra trust him with her body meant everything.

He bent his head and placed a soft kiss on the slope of each breast. Kirra wriggled impatiently against him and he chuckled. He had so much he wanted to show her tonight.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. He swept her notebook out of the way, then placed her facedown.

Kirra turned her head to look pointedly at his belt buckle.

He shook his head and received an annoyed growl.

Giving in with a smile, he slowly peeled his shirt up over his head. Her eyes widened and he let her look her fill. He loved the way she watched him, as if he was the most delectable treat she could imagine and she was thrilled to have him all to herself.

No, that wasn’t right. He’d been ogled by women before. None of them had been looking at the man underneath his exterior. They’d just wanted his body.

But Kirra saw the real Seth. She knew what he’d done. Knew how death had followed him. Knew that being with him put her in danger. Yet she loved him anyway. And by loving him, by believing in him when he’d lost the ability to believe in himself, she’d resurrected that idealistic, honorable man he’d been the day he’d enlisted.

Yet he couldn’t say those things to her. He didn’t know how to force his mouth to form those words. So he’d have to show her with his body.

He held up a finger to indicate for her to wait where she was, then dashed down to the kitchen and grabbed the small plastic bottle of coconut oil he’d seen in a cupboard. When he returned, he walked over to the bed, uncapped the bottle, and held it down for Kirra to sniff. She inhaled, then hummed in approval.

He stepped back, poured a little bit of the oil onto his palms, then rubbed them together to warm it up.

Kirra grabbed one of the pillows and rested her forehead on it.

Seth swallowed his sudden nervousness and resisted the urge to crack his knuckles. He hoped he did this right. He’d never given a woman a massage before. He hadn’t actually spent a lot of time with his lovers outside of bed. He’d certainly had never felt this overwhelming urge to pamper as well as arouse. To connect with her on a deeper level than just the physical.

Figuring her back was the best place to start, he straddled her lower body and lowered his hands to her shoulders. Then, going by instinct, he began to stroke and knead her muscles. The longer he worked, the more confident he became. Kirra let him know with husky groans and soft words what she liked and when he needed to back off because he’d hit a sore spot. He did his best to avoid her wounds and bruises, but sometimes his fingers slipped in the oil and he skidded across a sensitive spot.

The dim light still provided enough illumination for him to see her scars. He paid special attention to those, tracing and stroking them with his fingers. It humbled him that she let him have access to her body when her last lover had damaged it so badly. So he tried to show her that he understood the pain she’d endured. That he was thankful—and proud—that she’d survived. And that he would never hurt her.

He worked his thumbs into the muscles along her shoulder blades and Kirra groaned in relief. He’d expected to enjoy giving her a massage and seeing her relax under his fingers. What he hadn’t realized was that the glide of his fingers across her skin, combined with her verbal cues and the subtle scent of coconut to make this one of the most sacred experiences of his life.

It felt as if, with each satisfied moan, Kirra reached into his soul and scrubbed away a bit of the darkness. Leaving behind the light of her love.

When at last he turned her over so he could work on her front, she rewarded him with a lazy, sensual smile.

Gaze riveted by the taut buds of her nipples, he warmed up more oil in his palms. Then he started by massaging her feet. The scabbed-over cuts and bruises were further testament to her strength. To her resilience. He kissed each tiny wound and restricted his touches to the undamaged parts, such as her toes.

Her shins and thighs bore a few recent bruises, and an entire network of scars, some of them surgical. His heart skipped a beat in panic at another reminder of how close he’d come to never knowing her. He traced the scars with his tongue, amazed that she’d not only had the strength to hold onto life, but had rebuilt her strength to the extent that she’d followed him through the jungle and mud without falling behind.

When he finished worshipping her thighs, he skipped over the tempting territory between her legs, not ready yet to let this quiet exploration of her body come to an end. Instead, he massaged her fingers, arms, and shoulders. Such strength here. He’d thought her fragile when he’d first seen her, but he’d been dead wrong. These arms, these hands, had the strength to allow her to climb across the underside of that bridge back by Sankoh’s compound. The scars indicated that her hands must have been broken, yet her fingers had the flexibility to pull notes out of a guitar that captured a man’s soul.

Kirra watched him with heavy-lidded eyes and continued to encourage him with words of praise and hums of approval.

Still trying to delay the inevitable, he kneaded the muscles at the sides of her neck and under her collarbones. Then he skimmed his hands down and gently massaged her belly. For an instant his mind filled with an image of her stomach swollen with his child. The picture was accompanied by such a wave of longing that the room spun.

He’d never thought about being a father. He’d honestly never expected to meet a woman who’d make him want a family. But suddenly he did want that. More than his next breath.

And it killed him to know that it could never be.

Swallowing the howl of protest from his soul, he moved his hands up and touched her breasts. Focused on the tiny scars there instead of the image of her breasts swollen with milk to nurse their child.

He had to dip his head to hide the moisture in his eyes. But when he bent his head to suck one pouting nipple into his mouth, a tear slipped free and fell onto her chest. He hoped that the fact that she writhed in pleasure from his lips meant she hadn’t felt the tear.

He worked at her breast, loving the taste of her enhanced by the coconut oil. His starved soul thirstily absorbed the greedy sounds she made. Whenever she thought about sensual pleasure in the future, he wanted her to think about this night. He wanted to imprint himself so deeply on Kirra that she’d never forget him. Because he needed to know that he could make a positive difference in the world, even if it was just here, between the two of them.

His fingers played with her other breast, learning the texture and the softness of her. By the time his mouth released her nipple to move on to the next one, Kirra was squirming and panting beneath him.

He showered equal attention on her second nipple. When finally he decided that he’d held back long enough, he sat back and traced his hands over her belly, hips, and inner thighs.

Kirra widened her legs and lifted her hips toward his hand.

He stroked down her center her with one finger and had the satisfaction of watching her back bow in pleasure. Pulling her to the edge of the bed, he knelt on the floor between her legs, then began suckling and licking at her delicate flesh while his fingers played inside her. Her intoxicating taste combined with the scent of coconut jacked his arousal higher until it took every ounce of self-control to remain on his knees. But he needed her to find pleasure first. He needed to show her how much she mattered to him.

When at last she came with a low cry, he eased her slowly down from her peak, then climbed off the bed, shucked his pants and boxers, and slipped on a condom. Crawling back between her legs, he slowly fitted himself to the place he’d longed to be.

Once he’d fully seated himself, she wrapped her legs around him.

He could barely think past the pleasure of being inside her again and held still for several heartbeats. Then Kirra nipped at his shoulder and the dam that had been holding back his arousal broke. He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in.

Kirra gasped in pleasure and her fingers dug into his lower back.

She soon matched his forceful, driving rhythm stroke for stroke. He reached between them and squeezed her clit. She cried out as her muscles tightened on him and that was it. His balls pulled tight, and he drove home, coming with a force that turned the world black with flashes of brilliant white.

Through it all, he was aware of Kirra beneath him, her hands clutching at his back as if she’d never let him go.

Later, he held her tightly while she slept. She’d laid his soul bare. Showed him that another future existed other than death. He didn’t want to say good-bye.

But he didn’t trust that he’d have any other choice.

K
irra opened
her eyes and stared at the faint pattern of moonlight on the ceiling. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but the darkness outside of the windows didn’t appear to have lightened any. The biggest relief was that Seth still slept beside her.

Careful not to wake him, she inched closer and was rewarded by his arm pulling her snug against his chest before he settled back into sleep. New music danced in her head. She needed to put the notes on paper before she lost them, but she didn’t want to lose a second of time with Seth. She’d never had a man worship her body that way. Each touch of his fingers had felt like a stroke against her soul. The way he’d paid tribute to her scars made her feel precious and treasured.

She knew he’d started the massage as a way of saying good-bye. He might try to deny it, but by the end, they’d been bound together, spirit to spirit. But was that enough to convince him to stay with her?

She didn’t know.

Shadows crept across the ceiling. She shivered with dread. Even if Dev and Indy managed to arrange protection for Seth’s family, that didn’t completely solve the issue of the blackmailer. As Seth had pointed out, she was at risk now, too. How could he ever find peace as long as his blackmailer remained free?

How could they have a future if Seth was constantly looking over his shoulder?

She listened to his steady heartbeat under her cheek. There had to be some way to neutralize his blackmailer. Maybe Dev could help them set a trap, or at least discover the man’s identity so the authorities could deal with him.

And if Dev refused to help Seth because of what he’d done? Well, she’d simply have to override her big brother. So what if Seth had done less-than-honorable things to protect his family? The guilt he felt made him a better person than she had been.

She wouldn’t wish her attack on anyone, but it had forced her to turn her life around. Music now provided the respite she needed when grief or anger threatened to consume her. Recent successes in her career had strengthened her self-confidence. Yet she’d needed Seth’s unwavering belief in her to finally put to rest the belief that she had to prove herself worthy of her brother’s love. Seth had helped her truly accept that she had the right to unconditional love.

Thanks to him, she had more confidence in herself now than when she’d boarded the bus before the attack.

Yet yesterday proved that while she might have dealt with the rage over losing Kyle, having her parents killed by the rebels, and her life being torn apart by violence, that anger was still a part of her. It had simply been waiting for another opportunity to express itself. And now it had a new trigger: the unfairness of having found Seth when there was a chance that she might lose him.

She understood his frustration and his sense of being trapped. He clearly hated flying for the bad guys. He’d tried to mitigate the damage his flights caused while not putting his family at further risk. And most telling of all, he’d continued to fly for NGOs. Despite everything that had happened to him, he still retained that idealistic core that pushed him to make a positive difference in the world.

So yes, if Dev tried to deny help to Seth because he had some negative opinion of him, her brother would find himself cut out of her life.

For now, she savored the feel of Seth’s body half-sprawled over her, hoping with her entire heart that this wouldn’t be their last time together.

She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew she jerked awake, heart pounding.

Seth wasn’t beside her.

No!

She leapt out of bed, terrified that he’d decided to take matters into his own hands and find the assassin.

The light in the room had changed to the light gray of pre-dawn. She snatched up her clothes and hurriedly put them on. Then she dashed into the hallway.

None of the lights in the house were on. Knowing Seth would never leave via the front, she headed toward the back door.

That’s when she heard hushed, angry voices behind the bungalow. She raced to the door and peered out the security window.

Dev stood in the middle of the small plot of grass, glaring at Seth. “You promised to keep Kirra safe!” he snarled. He grabbed the rifle out of Seth’s hands, tossed it onto the ground, then shoved Seth against the side of the house. “You ask for my fucking help, then repay me by sleeping with my sister?”

Seth shoved Dev away from him. “Keep your voice down or you’re going to wake her up.”

But Dev got right back up in Seth’s face. “I know what you’ve done. You flew those MP3 players up to the Festival Day attackers. You flew Natchaba’s men all over the region, including the group that committed the Hospital Day Massacre. I don’t know what game you’re playing by pretending you’re some kind of hero, but it’s over. You’re not fit to kiss Kirra’s feet. She’s coming with me.”

“The hell she is! You’re the asshole who refuses to recognize what a smart, strong woman Kirra is.”

“Stay out of our business.” Dev swung a fist at Seth’s face.

Seth turned away, but not in time. Kirra winced as the blow caught him on his cheek, snapping his head around.

Fantastic. Dev was in full-blown, outraged big brother mode. And Seth appeared determined to give Dev the beating he’d threatened every time Kirra mentioned her brother’s low opinion of her.

Well, she didn’t need either one of them fighting her battles for her. Shaking her head in disgust, she backed away and returned to the bedroom. She’d seen enough fights to know that trying to break them up would be both pointless and dangerous.

For a long while she stared at the bed and thought about last night. She considered everything she knew about Seth, her brother, and this crazy situation, then nodded.

Yes. She knew exactly what she needed to do.

T
he assassin skirted
the edge of the rebel positions. Fools. They honestly thought that the woman would walk into their hands. But the assassin knew better. Seth Jarrod wouldn’t allow her to put herself into such danger. In fact, the assassin wasn’t certain the woman and Jarrod would show up here outside the concert venue at all. If she did show up in an attempt to rescue her friends inside, Jarrod would be nearby.

Which was exactly what the assassin needed. He’d found an abandoned hut within a short drive. Once he spotted the woman, he’d snatch her within view of the rebels and Jarrod. He would make certain to hurt the woman as he took her away, so Jarrod would understand the stakes and follow them.

He didn’t fool himself that bringing Jarrod under his control would be easy. The man had proved too adept at evading capture. Yet, with such a weakness as the woman, the odds were in the assassin’s favor.

Finally, he’d have his revenge. Jarrod would suffer from watching him torture and kill the woman.

Then he’d start on Jarrod until the man’s screams soothed the jagged wounds in the assassin’s heart.

S
eth landed
a blow to the back of Dev’s head. If her brother wanted a fight, he was more than willing to oblige. He might have just let out years of built-up anger and frustration, but he still owed it to Kirra to beat some respect into her brother. “Let’s see what you’ve got, soldier boy,” he sneered. A lot of soldiers never practiced their hand-to-hand outside of the dojo. Seth had. Plus, he’d learned some nasty tricks from the men he’d been working with.

“Don’t touch my sister again,” Dev shouted, snapping a fist toward Seth’s solar plexus.

Seth dodged, but staggered under a kick to his knee. Channeling his rage over the fact that he still didn’t see any way out that didn’t involve his death, and his bone-deep fear for Kirra, he shifted his balance and used his momentum to put him in position for a crippling blow to the other man’s neck.

No. Despite everything he’s done, Kirra still loves her brother.

So instead of following through, he shifted his aim so that the hit landed on Dev’s shoulder, instead.

A few seconds later, he spat blood from a particularly hard punch. Okay, he had to admit that Kirra’s brother knew his way around a down-and-dirty fight. The two of them were evenly matched. Dev might have an inch or two of height and reach on Seth, but his reflexes were slowed from having been on the road for so long.

Whereas Seth had been energized by that soul-cleansing sex—no, lovemaking—with Kirra. Remembering all the stories she’d told about her brother, Seth spun and sank his foot into Dev’s gut. “That’s for all the times you made Kirra feel like an idiot,” he said. He followed it up with a blow to Dev’s ear that had the other man stumbling back and shaking his head. “That’s for making her feel as if she’s never been good enough.”

He ducked a series of hits from Dev, then drove the man to the ground and pinned him. “And this is for making her feel as if the attack was her fault.” He smacked Dev’s head against the hard dirt of the yard.

Dev went still underneath him. “What? What the fuck are you talking about? Of course the attack wasn’t Kirra’s fault. It was Franz and those asshole friends of his.”

Because Seth recognized the self-directed horror in Dev’s voice, he backed off.

Dev stared up at him. “She really thinks that?” he asked, his expression shattered.

“Yeah.”

Uneasy at the other man’s helpless position on the ground, Seth sighed, wiped the blood from his palm onto his boxers, then offered Dev his hand. “Get the fuck up. We’re not having this conversation with you flat on your damn back.” Dev took his hand and Seth pulled him to his feet.

Still fighting residual anger over how the other man had treated Kirra, Seth looked away, then back at the other man. Dev stood in the middle of the yard looking shell-shocked.

“Dammit, I know I wasn’t around enough after the attack, but how can Kirra not know that I love her? That I would have killed Franz and the others with my bare hands if I’d had the chance?”

Seth’s anger dissipated. “Listen,” he said, “you need to talk to Kirra about this, but she believes that you and your parents decided she’d deserved the attack because of the life she’d been living.”

“Shit. That’s not what I thought.”

“Really? Think back. Because according to Kirra, you’ve never stopped seeing her as immature and irresponsible. All she gets from you is disapproval and criticism. So how is she supposed to know that you love her?”

Dev’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you that she talked about this?”

“I’m the guy who sees her as she is. Kirra’s a strong, capable, and intelligent woman. More importantly, she’s a survivor.” Seth glared at Dev. “She deserves your respect, not your lectures. As a highly independent person, she wants to be treated as an equal partner, not a liability.” Regret pinched him. He’d called Kirra a liability earlier, sounding too much like her brother, even though he’d been trying to protect her. Yet, unlike Dev, Seth saw Kirra as a woman worthy of his respect.

Dev stared at Seth a long while, realization filling up his eyes. Then he swore under his breath and took two steps toward the house.

Seth stepped in front of him. “You can’t go barging in there all angry and covered in blood,” he warned. “She’s only going to see the evidence of violence, not hear your apology.”

Dev hung his head and blew out a breath. “You’re right, dammit.” Then he raised his head and glanced around the yard. “Is there an outdoor tap?”

“Yeah.” Seth pointed to the other side of the yard, by the garage. “I’m going inside to clean up and put some clothes on.”

Dev nodded, then headed for his Jeep. Probably to get something to wipe away the blood.

Seth retrieved the AK-47 and entered the house. He set the rifle on the kitchen table, then walked down to the bedroom. Kirra was asleep, curled on her side facing away from him. He grabbed his pack and snuck out without waking her.

“So,” Seth said once he and Dev were presentable again. He handed Dev a cup of coffee he’d just made, having explained that Kirra was still sleeping. He cleared his throat. “Any luck on that request I made?”

Dev gave him a hard look, then took a sip of his coffee, wincing slightly as the hot liquid hit the cuts inside his mouth. “Marcus, uh, Indy said, and I quote ‘What the fuck kind of trouble did you get into this time Parakeet?’”

Seth’s heart sank. Shit. He’d really hoped that Dev and Marcus would help his family. What did he have to do? Beg? Because he would.

Dev sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t look so devastated man, we’re working on it. Your niece and the rest of your family should be safe in another couple of hours.”

Seth collapsed into the nearest chair. “Run that by me again.”

Dev flicked a glance at his watch. “We should hear back within a couple of hours from a privately run organization in the U.S. called the SSU. Long story short, Max, one of our newest team members, is back in the States recuperating from knee surgery. Marcus called Max, and Max put in a call to a guy he knew in the Marines who now works with this SSU group. They’re mostly made up of former special forces types. Max says they have a solid reputation for getting the job done discreetly and with minimal casualties. They should have a team in place in two or three hours to extract your family and get them to a safe house.”

Seth put his head in his hands to hide the tears that sprang to his eyes. Damn. He’d never thought he’d hear those words. It felt as if an anvil had just been lifted off his chest.

After a moment, he surreptitiously wiped his eyes on his shirt, then raised his head. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“Damn right, you do. Now, what’s your plan?”

Seth reached for his phone. “First, create more chaos among the rebels.” He dialed Rick Martin. When the man didn’t pick up, Seth left a message. “Martin, I’m not going to be able to make your boss’s deadline. Another party has exerted more influence and ordered me to turn the diamonds over to Bureh. Call me if you want to renegotiate.”

“Did you just call one of Morenga’s men?”

“Yeah. Rick Martin, his head of security.” Seth explained about Morenga’s deadline regarding the diamonds. And—”