Free Fall (Elite Force #4)(23)
Author: Catherine Mann

Now that struck a nerve, reminding her of arguments with her husband. Her dead husband. “I’m supposed to be grateful for the gift of your presence? Well then how about this adjective? Egotistical.”

He tapped his chest. “Protective.”

That sat a little better on her prickly pride. “Oh, you’re worried about me? Now don’t I feel foolish? I thought you were hitting on me.”

His smile flattened to a deep scowl. “I would never hit a woman.”

“Sorry. That’s an idiom for making a move on a woman.” Still he looked confused so she continued, “A romantic move.”

“That too.”

She stopped. “You’re making a move on me? After a year of following me around.”

“Following you around? You make me sound like a puppy. I am merely a devoted man, a patient man. I have actually been making moves for quite some time, but apparently my moves were not obvious enough to capture your attention. It could be a difference in cultural courtship rituals. You may add intelligent and persistent to the adjective list. Good night.”

She watched him walk silently away, tall and broad shouldered. And persistent.

Her husband had been upset by her choices, angry with her. He’d even asked her to come back. But he’d never once been persistent.

Yes, Samir Al-Shennawi intrigued her. He made her want to learn more, made her want more.

Except how persistent would he stay if he knew she was a trained killer?

***

Jose planted himself in a chair outside the break room door so he wouldn’t miss Stella when she left. He was dead on his feet, running on fumes, but sitting was the only concession he would give himself. Sleep could come later, once he saw her and knew she was taken care of.

The CV-22 was parked behind him, the crew gathered around the back hatch. On the other side of the aircraft, the CIA command center was still in place with screens glowing. The hangar hummed with pockets of activity.

But he could only think of Stella.

She had been in there with the boy and the head CIA dude for over three hours. She needed to rest, eat, recharge. Even knowing he wasn’t stopping either didn’t take away the driving urge to rip the door off with his bare hands and haul her out of there.

It was as if the past four weeks apart never happened. He was right back in those first hours after she’d dumped him, certain she would change her mind, wondering what he could do to change it for her.

Damn stupid.

Focus on the now. Do his job. What he did best.

The light sound of footsteps gave him a one-second warning before his teammates pulled up alongside him. Brick, Data, Bubbles, and Fang were more than just a few fellas he worked with. They were fellow PJs. They put their lives on the line together, would die for each other.

No one knew him better. And right now that could be a problem, gauging by the way they were grinning, ready to razz him. Bubbles leaned back against a pallet of stacked crates while the others advanced.

His buddy Brick propped a foot up on the chair beside him, a stubborn rock-headed dude with a marshmallow heart, especially since he got married. “Wanna play marry one, kill one, screw one? Category? Brad Pitt’s women: Jennifer Aniston, Angelina Jolie, and Gwyneth Paltrow.”

His friend would remind him of the way he’d picked on his buddies for not wanting to join in the word game. Not too long ago, he’d razzed Rocha for being all uptight and in love.

Ironic how life cycled around. “I’ll pass.”

Brick dropped into the seat beside him and clapped Jose on the back. “Not as funny when you’re the one in over your head, is it?”

Fang—which actually stood for Fuck, Another New Guy—crouched down in front of him. “So, Brick, is it true what they say about married sex?”

Data’s eyes lit with curiosity, but then the squadron brainiac was curious about everything. “What do they say? And who is ‘they’?”

Baby-faced Fang scratched his buzzed short hair. “Married dudes who say the sex dries up after the vows.”

Jose cursed. Sex was so not what he wanted to talk about now with Stella so fresh in his mind he could swear the eucalyptus scent of her lingered.

Brick scowled. “Now hold on there, partner. Any man who’s talking about sex with his wife is either a loser or not working hard enough.”

Fang blinked once, twice. “I’m not getting what you mean, dude.”

Shaking his head, Brick laughed. “Can’t coach stupid.”

The shared laughed knocked around inside the hangar’s high ceiling, ricocheting off beams. Familiar camaraderie. Their gift to him in the middle of hell.

As the chuckles died down, Bubbles shoved away from the wall of stacked crates. “The key to married sex, single sex, any sex at all? Foreplay is the road to happiness, my friends.”

Jose looked from one shocked face to the other, more than a little stunned himself.

“Whoa.” Fang whistled. “Who knew he could talk?”

Some of the tension eased from Jose’s shoulders. His buds knew him, knew just how to step in and defuse the moment.

Except, why were they here? “Brick, what’s going on? Why the big welcoming party?”

“Long story. It’s all connected to the vice president’s wife’s visit. Security and some exercise. Blah, blah, blah. You and Bubbles will be tied up here anyway with debriefing the kid and the rescued hostages.” Brick nodded to the coffee room door as the knob turned. “And there’s your lady now. Good luck.”

His friends peeled away as the door opened.

Stella stepped out first, while the CIA head honcho stayed inside with the kid. She pulled the door closed after her, resting her head against the panel.

Someone had given her clean clothes even if she hadn’t showered. She’d changed into fresh jeans and a simple gray T-shirt. She still kept the long kanga cloth hooked over her arms. Perhaps she kept it to wrap around her if they stepped out in public, or maybe she held it out of nervous habit. But she seemed to take comfort from the cloth. He didn’t bother pondering the “why” of it any further. He’d seen enough combat stress to know everyone handled things in their own way.

And that damn Mr. Smith should know the same. Instead the hard-ass had kept her tied up in extra debriefs for three hours.

“Stella?” Jose scratched his tight throat and pushed a halfway normal voice free. “Are you okay?”

Her shoulders went tense again and she turned slowly, scanning until her eyes landed on him.