Black-Market Body Double (S.A.S.S. Book 1) Page 18

  Pretending not to notice any of it, Mark kept his emotional distance and dabbed peroxide on the wound. “It’s not deep. You must have skinned it again during the escape.”

  Well. Was he totally unaffected? How could he sound so calm and detached? And why, when she should be on-her-knees grateful, was she disappointed and to-her-earlobes ticked? “Actually, I collided with an oak.” She frowned. “It won.”

  “Gotta watch those twisted rascals—especially the monster roots. They’ll jump out and grab you every time.”

  She smiled in spite of her snit, and watched him finish up with some antibiotic salve and a new bandage. His fingertips felt so gentle on her skin, almost caressing. Stretching her neck, she glimpsed his eyes and saw that he wasn’t so unaffected after all. Innately pleased by that, she smiled again, wider.

  Now he looked irritated. Obviously, he hadn’t wanted to be caught noticing her, and that pleased her, too.

  “There you go.” He looked from her arm to her face, his eyes a little hazed. “That should hold you until we get to a medical facility.”

  The intimacy in his tone, the warmth in his eyes, had her breath hitching all the way up her throat. “Thanks. I’m sure it’s fine now.” A medical facility couldn’t have done a better job. He’d been field-trained in medical procedures when he was with Delta Force and it showed. She eased her arm back into her top, and then stared at him.

  “What?” He closed up the kit, wadded the trash in his hand and squeezed until his knuckles turned white.

  “Nothing.” She gave him a negative headshake, then swept at her hair, getting it out of her face. “It’s just that...” Her voice trailed. She shrugged, then tried again. “It’s just that I like you, Mark.”

  “Good.” His expression softened. “Because I like you, too.”

  “No, you don’t get it.” She felt her skin crease into a frown between her eyebrows. “I’m not happy about this.”

  “You’re not?” He looked bewildered then motioned for her to slide over so they could sit next to each other and talk this through. “Interesting. I’m not, either.”

  She slid over a seat, and when he sat down, she added, “Good God, how could I be happy about it? You saw my films at Kunz’s. You know exactly why this is awful. Being physical, connecting that way is one thing, but I don’t want to like any man.”

  “You think we’re all like your father?” To his credit, no censure or judgment etched his tone. He simply wanted to know and so he had asked. It was a refreshing reaction, to just be asked anything straight out.

  “No, I don’t,” she said, and she truly didn’t. “But until I met you, I hadn’t allowed myself to get close enough to a man to actually like him—as a person, I mean.”

  “So you’ve been intimate with men you didn’t like?” He sounded almost amused.

  “I meant ‘like’ as in ‘emotionally endearing’ to me. Desire is human, but you don’t have to find someone emotionally endearing to experience it. Or lust, for that matter. It’s a physical and chemical and hormonal reaction, you know?”

  “I know, but when you make soup—stir all of those things together—it becomes lovemaking, and that is infinitely more pleasurable and emotionally endearing.” When she sent him a skeptical look, he added, “More levels of involvement equates to more intense involvement.”

  Doubtful about that, she shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she should, considering his record on judgment calls. “I’ve deliberately limited my investment in men to exclude emotionally endearing.”

  “So you used them.”

  “No one used anyone,” she said, then felt a flush of guilt. “Okay. Okay, so once I did. But only once. Otherwise, the terms of my relationships were mutually agreed upon by both parties, and they worked for both parties until they didn’t work anymore, and then they ended.”

  “They worked for you,” Mark countered. “Did the other half of these relationships have any choice?”

  “Of course.”

  “Really? It wasn’t your way or no way?” he speculated, his eyes far too seeing.

  “Look, Cross.” She bristled. “They worked for me, okay? That’s the only way that’s worked for me.” She gave herself a mental shake. She was what she was and that’s the way it was. He could accept it or reject it, but she would not apologize for it. She wasn’t a victim, and she’d never be a victim again. A woman didn’t apologize for refusing to be a freaking victim. Not in her world.

  “Anyway, all of that is beside the point. This—us—we’re the point.” She wagged a fingertip between them. “I’m not going to insult either of us by pretending I don’t have feelings for you. I’m not going to pretend that this is just about some physical attraction. I want you to know that.” She had no idea what she was going to do with those feelings, but that was another conversation best saved for later—after she tried talking herself out of having those feelings, burying them, or stomping them to death. She wasn’t picky. She’d settle for whatever worked.

  “I’m glad, Amanda. Because I have feelings for you, too.” Mark kept his hands on the seat’s arms, but his knuckles were white. This was hard for him, harder than she’d at first imagined. “I won’t pretend otherwise, and I won’t let you pretend, either. But I’m fighting it, too, for what it’s worth.”

  How could she be relieved and disappointed at the same time? “Fighting it, in what way?”

  “I don’t want to let you get inside me. I know you don’t want to let me get inside you. Relationships work out best when people open the doors, not when chemistry between two people knocks the doors down. I’m trying to give the people in us time to catch up with our chemistry.”

  “But chemistry is good.” It’d always been enough. It was a known entity. Not threatening or unfamiliar. Chemistry didn’t breach her comfort zone.

  “Can it lead to open doors?” He posed that as a question, but there was no missing the challenge cloaked in it. “Well, can it?”

  “I guess anything is possible,” she said, suddenly irritated.

  He stared at her, waited, and when it became apparent he wasn’t going to move or say another word until she got more specific, she did. “Okay,” she conceded. “It never has, but that doesn’t mean it can’t. I said I have feelings for you and I do. That’s new to me, and I have no idea what to expect. But I can say that I’m not comfortable with it—at least, not yet. It makes me feel...”

  “What?” His voice softened. “What does it make you feel, Amanda?”

  She glared at him. “Vulnerable.”

  “And you hate feeling vulnerable.”

  “Yes!”

  “But you don’t hate having feelings for me?”

  How did she respond to him when she couldn’t get a fix on her reaction to him herself? “Hate? No. No, I don’t,” she said, realizing it was true. “But I’m not overly thrilled with the prospect because I do hate having my back exposed.” Her father had taught her well the dangers of that. He always attacked her from behind, so she didn’t see him coming.

  The look in Mark’s eyes turned gentle and totally enamored. “If you’ll open your heart, I’ll cover your back, honey.”

  She swallowed hard. Men had looked at her with desire, in sensual hazes that could set fires rivaling four-alarm blazes, but never before had she been looked at with such tenderness and indulgence and...and she didn’t know what else it was, but she liked it. She really liked it. “Okay, then.” That was about all she could manage. Pretty neutral. She didn’t want that look to go away. It was addictive, worse than crack cocaine, her instincts warned. And having seen it once in a man’s eyes when he looked at her, she’d never again be satisfied to not see it.

  “Okay, then.” Seeming extremely content with his progress, Mark stroked her cheek. “You’d better catch a few winks. It’s going to be a long night that I figure will run over through most of the day-—once they start debriefing us.”

  Amanda had about m
axed on this emotional business, and Mark clearly knew it. That he had suggested a reprieve from it without her having to ask for one, much less insist on one endeared him to her more. And yet her instincts warned her that there was only one way to honestly face this thing between them. The same way she had faced everything else in her life: head-on and full throttle.

  She leaned over, put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “It’s going to be a longer day still after the debriefing—possibly extending well into tomorrow night.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her, his gaze speculative and warm. “Is that a fact?”

  “I think it’s time for you to adequately explain that six-date rule you’re so fond of implementing.”

  “Why is that?” A teasing light shone in his eyes.

  “Because I need to know how strenuously I need to object to you in this internal battle of doors we’ve got going on.”

  “I see.” He didn’t look at all opposed. Actually, he looked pleased with himself. “And what if I don’t adequately explain it?”

  Heartened because he hadn’t objected, she grunted. “Then I predict you’ll have an even longer night. I don’t suffer internal battles in silence. I prefer company with my misery. Someone to bounce battle plans off of, you know?”

  That knocked the grin right off his face and planted one squarely on hers.

  Shortly before 4:00 a.m., Amanda and Mark finished briefing Colonel Drake, Colonel Gray and, via video-conference, Secretary of Defense Reynolds. The debriefing had included an accurate description of Kunz. Everyone was now as worried as Amanda about not knowing the number of doubles currently active in U.S. intelligence and law enforcement agencies. She’d hated to extrapolate and suggest agencies like the Department of Justice and Homeland Security could be vulnerable and verifications should be activated there, too. Since Amanda’a double had been successfully inserted and no one had suspected a thing, Secretary Reynolds assured the rest he’d sweep system wide. The implications of potential infiltrations chilled all of them to the marrow of their bones. There was one bit of good news. So far, there was no evidence of Mark having a double. Hers had been arrested.

  Early on in the discussion, the defense secretary had called in Special Operations, and later during it, he’d summoned the director of the FBI and another man he didn’t introduce. Had to be a honcho in the intel community, though which one, she could only guess. That was a new experience, since she’d interacted with most at one time or another.

  Now, Special Ops was scheduled to pull a joint-forces coordinated mission to take down Kunz’s Texas compound in a predawn raid.

  Kate had flown down to Providence with Colonel Drake. While the secretary and Drake coordinated the Texas compound mission, she had a brief reunion and a cold drink with Amanda and Mark in the break room. Colonel Gray had been present since their return, as predicted, but fortunately he was keeping his mouth shut. He might ride Colonel Drake’s back and test her patience, but he wasn’t stupid enough to give her grief with Secretary Reynolds up to his armpits in this and his team of special assistants on-site. It’d be career suicide and jeopardize his retirement pay.

  A team composed of intelligence forces, OSI agents, Kate (representing the S.A.S.S.) and one of Reynolds’s special assistants heard Joan give a full accounting of each of the thirty doubles she’d worked on at the Texas compound. She went on to share information she had on a second compound, this one actually in the Middle East. Joan’s recall was detailed and specific, second only to the S.A.S.S. team member, Darcy, who had a decided advantage. She had total recall. A similar second team debriefed Simon, Harry and Brent, and Jeremy met with a child psychologist, who specialized in hostage and war trauma.

  By 5:00 a.m., the separate briefings were over and everyone came together in the conference room to compare notes. Finally, at 5:30 a.m., Colonel Gray arranged protective lodging for Simon, Joan and Jeremy and for Harry and Brent, and everyone called it a night.

  Shortly thereafter, Colonel Drake dismissed Amanda and Mark. “Be back here at 10:00 a.m. for an update briefing and further instructions,” she told them. “By then, Darcy will have a CAA Report prepared and to us, and we’ll know what we’ve got and what we need.”

  “CAA Report?” Mark asked, unfamiliar with the S.A.S.S. acronym.

  “Compilation, Assimilation and Assessment Report,” Amanda said. “Darcy will pull updates and status reports from everyone remotely connected to the GRID organization, digest it all and give us a fix on the big picture.”

  “That fast?” he asked, looking a little skeptical.

  “Darcy has special gifts,” Kate said. “Total recall.”

  “That’s an advantage, provided she’s gifted at putting the puzzle pieces together, too.”

  “She’s extremely gifted,” Colonel Drake assured him. “Now get out of here and get some rest. I need you both in top shape when the report comes in.”

  Dead on her feet, Amanda didn’t have to be told twice that she could leave. She caught Mark by the arm and led him to the door. “Let’s get out of here before we get recruited to do anything else tonight—today—whatever it is.”

  Smiling, Mark walked beside her outside to the Hummer, which had been impounded when they’d gone missing from the jail.

  “It’s nearly 6:00 a.m., but it’s still dark.” Mark opened the door, and when she slid onto the seat, he added, “Let’s keep it easy and call it a night.”

  “I’m all for easy.” Amanda clicked her safety belt into place.

  They drove to Mark’s subdivision. At the security gate, the guard waved them through and Mark drove on around, and finally pulled into his garage. He stopped the Hummer and just sat there, staring straight ahead at the wall through the dust-smudged windshield.

  “Something wrong?” she asked.

  He chewed at the inside of his lip, pondering his words carefully. “Maybe.” A few silent beats passed. “I’d say after that conversation on the plane earlier we’ve gone beyond being partners and friends.” He put the gearshift in Park, turned off the ignition then looked over at her, his expression as sober as she’d ever seen it. “It is personal, Amanda.”

  Definitely personal. He was driving the point home because this mattered so much to him. Looking at him proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was personal. Everything about him rammed her emotions into overdrive.

  She reached for the door handle. “So it’s personal.” Could that actually have been her voice, sounding so ambivalent? What did he want from her? “Okay, Cross. Are you looking for declarations of undying love, promises of some sort, or what? Last I knew, we were waiting for the doors to blow open on their own.”

  He leveled her with an uncompromising gaze, signaling this was a make-or-break point with him and not negotiable. “I’m making sure you understand that I don’t sleep around and I’m particular with whom I share my body.”

  Fair enough. It was the second time he’d told her this. Great news actually, but not at all surprising. He had that monogamous look. The kind that when women saw him on the street, they did a double take because envy shot right through them. That sexy kind of monogamous look every woman craves having someone say they see in her man. “Point taken.” Her palm grew so clammy she lost her hold on the door handle.

  He draped an arm over the steering wheel and another on the gearshift. “I think the odds are high we’re going to end up together at some point and you need to know now. I don’t do one-night stands.”

  “No, you do six-date stands. And you haven’t yet explained that.” She settled back against the seat, listened to the engine ticking. “I think that was part of the bargain.”

  “It’s the job. Just like it is for you.” He dragged an impatient hand through his hair. “It’s being asked too many questions I can’t answer. Having no choice but to tell lies to cover up the truth. It’s apologizing over and over for too many unexplained absences. Catching trouble for missing birthdays and special events and holidays. You k
now exactly what it is, and what I mean. Complications on every front. It’s easier to just cut it off after six dates—before anyone can start to think of you as a couple.”

  “Does that include the woman?”

  “Especially the woman.”

  Amanda did know what he meant, and she agreed with him. It was easier to be alone than to be asked to explain that which couldn’t be explained without violating oaths, breaching security and jeopardizing missions and lives. “Any other allergies?” He’d told her about the peanuts.

  “No.”

  She unsnapped her safety belt, turned toward him in her seat and propped her arm on the seat’s back and tilted her head to it. “Hmm, that explanation might do.”

  He paused, then slid her a look torn between accusation and elation. “You get to me, Amanda.”

  Her stomach hollowed and her chest swelled. For some reason she couldn’t begin to sort out, that pleased her immensely. “Well, there is a bright side to this, Cross.” She scooted over and wrapped her arms around his neck then whispered against his mouth, “Together, we don’t have those pesky job-related dating problems, now, do we?” They both knew not to ask questions that couldn’t be answered.

  “No, I guess we don’t.” His breath warmed her face.

  She slid her hand along the straight of his shoulder, around its curve and down his arm. Rubbing their noses, she looked into his eyes. “Does this mean you’re ditching your six-date rule?”

  He caught her head in his hands and whispered against her lips, “Absolutely abolishing it. Effective immediately.”

  She pulled back and smiled, not quite satisfied with that response. “Women everywhere will rejoice and thank me.”

  “Apparently, I wasn’t clear.” He drew her back to him, and the look in his eyes stole her breath. “You’re the woman in my life, and I’m abolishing the rule for you.”