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“Turn over and talk to me.”
Face her? In these close quarters? He’d have preferred talking in an intimate setting—maybe the bed after sex—but this setting…. He didn’t know how to describe the turmoil racking his system over Sam… his love for her… her possible betrayal. Making it worse, no matter what she’d done, his body still reacted to her.
Before he turned, they both seemed to remember that he couldn’t lie on his other side due to his injury.
“Sorry,” she said. “Hang on.”
Without turning over, he knew by the cot moving and the noticeable shimmying of her body against his, she crawled from her sleeping spot between him and the wall.
“Scoot back,” she directed in front of the cot.
Although not sure he wanted the nearness or the conversation, he scooted backward with significant pain that radiated not only down his leg but up his side. Renewed sweat broke out on his brow and exhaustion settled inside his body. If he’d had to move further than the foot, he’d not have made it.
Gently, she lowered herself to the cot and lay down.
“How do you feel?” she asked after settling with her arm under her head and a narrow space between them.
“I feel better,” he lied.
“Do you want to talk about your dream?”
Hell no came to his lips, but he didn’t want to argue with her either. No matter their past, their fears, or the accusations, his feelings for her were real, and right now, he needed the connection with her to focus on anything but their situation for a short while. With that in mind, he held tight to the trust issue and let his heart lead the conversation. “Do you remember the first time we met?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “You had your hair flowing over your shoulders to about mid-back, about the same as you wear it now. The red dress with its frilly sleeves or something that probably has a fashion name I don’t know. I liked that you wore it like a supermodel, but you weren’t overdressed. As for the snug fit…,” he said the last with laughter in his voice.
“If you weren’t hurt all over, I’d smack you for mocking me.”
In mock horror, he said, “Make fun of you? Not me.”
“You used to always make fun of me.” She paused. “You stopped once Lance died.”
He raised a brow in question. “Really?” he asked, wondering if she’d put it together now that he’d told her loved her. “Sam, I think I’ve loved you since you walked into that sports bar. I’ve never stopped. I’ve become the crabby old man I am today because I longed for you to be by my side and safe. Always safe.”
As best he could tell in the dim moonlight streaming in the room, her eyes darkened.
Knowing they could die at any moment, he wouldn’t pass up more time with her, no matter her transgressions. This woman held his heart, and he might not be able to save her life. Maybe she’d been involved in this, but love didn’t always listen to reason.
With a hand that shook a little from his body’s weakness—from blood loss, the beating, and lack of food—he gently placed it on her soft cheek where she’d removed most of her face paint with her sleeve. The strength of his longing moved him forward, but the possibility she’d deny him rolled in his gut. He couldn’t stand denial a second time. “Sam, I’d like to kiss you. May I?”
It took her a moment, and that indecision almost had him pulling back in resignation. Then, she slowly nodded.
Euphoria hit him before he’d even kissed her. Just the fact she’d agreed went a long way to mending his heart.
Leaning forward as if he had all the time in the world, his eyes moved between her lips and eyes. The beautiful blues sparkled in the near darkness. That might’ve been his imagination from years of thinking about them.
Without a care for the small cut and slight swelling, his lips lightly touched the edge of hers and that romantically nonsense lightning struck. He’d heard women talk about it and thought it a fluke the first time they’d kissed, but he’d admit it occurred. Sure,some sense of electrical current could flow between them when they touched, but this….
Her breath caught, and it brought a smile to his face. It’d hit her too. Moving over her lips to the far side, he placed another featherlight touch to her forehead. His slow seduction held equal measures of pleasure and pain. And not from his injuries.
Leaving the far side of her lips and noticing her breath mimicking his, he touched his lips to hers full on, but in a quick kiss.
Pulling back, he looked at her eyes, unsure what he’d see, but he hoped it’d be desire. Something better flowed between them. Something hard to explain but important. He no longer needed the conversation about trust. Seeing it… feeling it in their connection told him all he needed to know. How could he have ever doubted her? They’d always been connected but this new level had feelings so deep and real that surely couldn’t be a lie or anything she could damage or toss away. He believed in her… in them.
A small smile appeared on each of their faces as if both had realized it at the same moment.
He couldn’t wait any longer to savor her kiss and passion that she held away from him. He’d wrangle it at some point soon.
Against her slight smile, he whispered, “I love you.”
His lips reclaimed hers with a long-held hunger, and he enjoyed the sweet taste of her. A taste that he could easily drink every day to work himself into a drunken state.
Before he could nudge her in that direction, she opened her mouth and welcomed him in. Their tongues immediately touched, and that longing in him grew and he couldn’t fight the arousal that tightened his BDU pants.
While his need drove him, he fed off her strength, her desire, and her passion. The intensity of their want skyrocketed between them.
Shifting his head, he took more of her and their lips meshed so tightly they could’ve been one, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.
Their tongues tangling set him afire. One kiss might not be enough. One kiss wouldn’t be enough. But it had to be for tonight.
His lips loved hers long, tenderly, before regrettably, he lifted them and chuckled when she moaned.
Pulling her close, regardless of the pulsing shot of pain from his injuries, he wrapped his free arm around her. After placing a light peck on her forehead, he whispered, “Sleep.”
As she snuggled against him, Ken tried to calm his out-of-control hormones. He didn’t know what tomorrow brought, but with Sam at his side, they’d survive it, together.
18
“Roadrunner.”
The male voice in her ear roused Sam from sleep, ever so slowly. Nodding off for the night in Ken’s arms had been the most wonderful feeling in the world. A miracle considering their situation. She’d always relied upon herself and trained enough she’d never feared anything. Lying as they were, though, warmth flowed through her at the safety and strength, which far exceeded any she held for herself.
Her life held serious regrets, the most important being that she’d considered facilitating the death of this man. The fact that she hadn’t acted didn’t make it right.
She needed a round with a punching bag to clear her head. She had no need to find out Ken’s version of the truth the day Lance died. He’d given it to her so long ago. She never should’ve doubted him. The strong connection between them or from her heart—although it was involved—but from knowing Ken… watching him in action… witnessing his morals… being tugged toward him were there. She mentally shook her head. The last one wasn’t mind but body.
The thing that turned her inside out was that Bev had lied to her. Her new question became: Did Bev know the information was false—Sam’s belief—and feed it to Sam, or had something assured Bev of its authenticity? Either way, she’d been betrayed and had considered making a mistake that would’ve burned in her soul for eternity.
It saddened her that it’d taken such dire circumstances for her to
realize the truth. And, the emotions she’d been blocking. Her feelings for Ken. Pity settled in her stomach. She and Ken may not have a chance after all this. It didn’t help that their captivity and questioning made no sense; she also worried he might not be able to take much more.
He didn’t fool her that he felt okay enough to escape. They could if she had to drag him. The thought of him being tortured a second time strengthened her resolve to help figure this out. No, they wouldn’t give up Jesse, but if they could buy time—
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said in a raspy morning voice as if he’d greeted her each morning for a lifetime.
“Morning,” she mumbled. He looked a mess. With smudged face paint that had made it to his shirtsleeve, to the bruising and small swelling on his face. At least his eye hadn’t closed up. She called that a plus.
Before she could worry about how to overcome her morning breath, she stiffened. “Roadrunner.”
Ken’s muscles tensed. “Shit.” He released a heavy breath. “As much as I’d like to remain lying here with you, go ahead and get up. We’re due for company.”
Before she left his arms, he dropped a quick kiss on her lips. Her heart sang with that contact. She’d experienced something similar with Lance, but that memory had mostly faded. With Ken, her body hummed with only a touch.
“I wish they could say who,” she stated as she scrambled off the bed. “I mean, I know they can’t say in case communications are compromised, but still I wish.” At least they knew a new visitor had arrived. That could mean something to them or not.
“You slept with your earpiece in?”
She shot him an incredulous look. “Of course.”
“Sam,” he said as he stiffly maneuvered to a sitting position on the cot. “What if they’d grabbed you from sleep?”
“It could’ve just as easily dropped from the ponytail holder in my hair.”
As he ran a hand down his weary face, Sam worried for him. For them. What did this new visitor mean? Granted it could just be a neighbor stopping in for a visit. The sinking feeling in her gut told her this person or persons related to their imprisonment.
Turning away, she mulled things over in her mind. Alejandro wanted Jesse and Ken. If their assumptions were correct, then Bev ratted them out, and the man knew to expect them. But why just the two? That answer came easily to her. The two men Bev wanted to die. Bev. But why would Bev have her own son kidnapped?
Either Alejandro—out of some misplaced loyalty—was taking on Bev’s desperate revenge or…. She didn’t want to think about it, but everything made sense.
She whirled around. “I think—” She gulped and hoped to get the message past the enormous lump in her throat. “I think it might be Bev who’s behind this and maybe her returning. She could’ve gone home, but something tells me that’s not the case.”
How could her best friend do this? While she had no room to talk since she’d once considered the same scenario, she hadn’t actually gone through with it. She also hadn’t had someone kidnapped and put the whole HIS team at risk. Nor had she imprisoned her best friend.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it the whole time. Once you confirmed what you and Beverly had talked about, she became my prime suspect.”
She opened her mouth to speak and didn’t know what to say. Although she’d never actually verbally admitted it, he’d seen right through her. She closed her eyes to the pain of what could have been. He had to know the truth.
“But Alejandro seems like a sane man, and obviously successful. Why would he do this for her?”
He shrugged and grimaced. “The only thing I can think is for a twisted love. I just don’t see how Cody fits into the equation.”
“That’s turning over in my mind too. Ken,” she hesitated, “I need to tell you something.”
The air crackled with tension at her statement. “Go ahead.”
His voice had taken on his “boss” role, and it sent shivers of dread through her veins. She didn’t know what she’d do if he blamed her or turned his back on her. They finally had a chance and she’d almost tossed it away.
“You need to know why Bev wants you dead and I—” She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t speak. How the hell would she get through this? In no way would she look good. Not that she deserved it, but she didn’t want to lose what they’d become.
Her heartbeat raced and pumped warm blood through her at a rapid pace. Fear for what he’d think gripped her. When he didn’t speak, she continued, pouring out the story, making herself hold his gaze. “You know that she blamed everyone for her husband’s death and she hasn’t let that go. She still believed you and Jesse, as the officer and NCO of the team, should’ve been brought to justice even though the incident review showed nothing of the sort. Not long ago she told me she’d had someone investigate it in depth and had proof you and Jesse were responsible.”
His jaw worked, but he continued his silence, and she backed herself to the wall, hoping it’d hold her steady.
Her heart pounded, and she nearly felt faint having to tell him what she thought. “She showed me the information, and I—” She gulped and cast her gaze down, unable to admit the truth to his face. “—I believed it.” She looked up and used her hands to emphasize her hurried admission. “I didn’t want you dead, but I admit to considering the fact you needed to pay since the army didn’t do anything.”
She paused, hoping he’d say something. When he did, her heart plummeted to her toes since it was one of the few things she wished he hadn’t asked. “Is that why you held back the shot on Jesse? Did you hope he was killed?”
Her gaze snapped up to his and met the steel that wrapped itself around his presence. How could she overcome that when she wasn’t sure of the truth? Something had flicked through her mind when that held-back shot happened, and a small—minuscule—part of her mind thought the opportunity for Jesse to pay had been at hand. Ultimately she couldn’t do it. No matter if they’d shot her husband outright, she couldn’t kill them.
She slid down the wall, pulling her knees up and resting her arms on them. “I’m not sure. Something slowed my reaction, but actually killing him—or you—wasn’t something I could even agree to. Bev wanted me to. While I considered all options, I couldn’t do any. Not only am I not a killer—bar op necessity—but, I believe in you. Lance believed in you. I never should’ve accepted a word of the report she’d sent me.”
The quiet stifled the small room. Disgust with herself riddled her body. She had to have his forgiveness, not only so they could continue on together, but so she could let go of the guilt. As much as she could.
Pulling all her courage, she looked back at him to catch his gaze on her with what she guessed as consideration or confusion. But, not hate. Not yet anyway. “I swear, Ken, I never agreed to kill you. I never agreed to any kind of payback. Yes, I considered something needed to be done, and yes, I listened to what Bev wanted. In the end, I know the kind of man you are, and that the intel had to be false. Although,” she breathed out softly, “it was too late to realize that.”
“What’d it say?” The words seemed to be painfully yanked from him.
A weary sigh slipped through her and left calm in its wake. “It said a lot that I should’ve realized was bullshit earlier. The summary is that—” She raised her brows in a way to emphasize her next point. “Know that while it held Jesse responsible since he was the team commander, it also included you as the senior enlisted. Bev couldn’t see differently. It said that you—you and/or Jesse—stayed behind the rest of a larger convoy and because you waited too late to return to base, you took an alternate route that went against the battalion commander’s orders. When you were attacked, it stated that you’d refused to call in med evac either because of safety or to cover your tracks. It took an extra hour to get out of there and the men died en route, not on scene as we’d been told. The report speculated
that if you’d called in med evac, the men could’ve probably been saved in the lag time.”
Too late she realized how ridiculous it sounded. She’d allowed her emotions to rule instead of her mind. Thank God she’d wised up before she did take any revenge. “Ken, I’m—” She stopped. Ken appeared to age ten years, and it ate at her gut.
In a weak voice, he asked, “Do you still believe it?”
“I told you that I didn’t. I was a fool to even think that of you. I can’t say how sorry I am. Maybe if I’d been brave enough to ask you, we could’ve helped Bev see the truth.”
He worked his jaw again, and she knew it meant he did it to keep his temper in check. “I doubt it would’ve mattered.” He patted the seat beside him. “Come here.”
She rose to her feet, walked to the cot and tentatively sat on his noninjured side as if a bomb might be present.
He took her hand and she waited.
“It breaks my heart you’d think such a thing of me, but dammit, I still love you. No, don’t say a word. Let me finish. If the report seemed legit, I can see how you’d question everything. But God, I wish you’d come to me about it.”
Pulling her hand up, he lightly kissed it and Sam stiffened, unsure what to expect next.
“Since you started explaining, I’ve been turning over how I feel about it all. You not believing in me, not trusting me, and even considering harming me are hard to swallow. Yet, two things jumped up and grabbed the hurt I felt. One, I know how deeply you loved Lance and as a grieving widow something like that would turn you inside out and coming to me would’ve been the last thing you could do. Second, and most importantly, no matter what you’d thought, while you said you hadn’t decided whether to exact some sort of vengeance, you did decide. You decided not to harm Jesse or me in any way.”
Her voice cracked. “Will you ever forgive me?” Waiting for him to respond to her confession, her stomach lurched and her body ached with fear he’d turn her away. She only hoped her stupidity hadn’t cost her something she’d waited years for.