Under Fire (Elite Force #3)(8)
Author: Catherine Mann

He grabbed the remote control and turned on the television, filling the room with the seven o’clock news. The lead story was kicking into gear about the upcoming international summit on satellite technology. Diplomats and military generals were traveling in from around the world. As he listened to the broadcaster detail the ramp-up, he couldn’t help but wonder if somehow Rachel’s airman might be losing touch with reality, blending the upcoming national summit with traumatic delusions. Regardless, they needed to talk with base security and make sure the young man wasn’t a risk to himself or others.

And plug whatever security holes that had allowed Rachel to break into his car undetected.

“Breaking news…”

The announcement interrupted the regular report and his thoughts. Liam glanced up at the flat-screen mounted on the wall behind the oak table. A map of Southern Florida filled the image, with a star flashing over a street map of a neighborhood.

“City block explodes into flames… One resident is believed dead… more unaccounted for… Fire marshals are unsure of the cause, but terrorism isn’t being ruled out…”

His sixth sense tingled with that bad, bad feeling to check his back… or Rachel’s.

He looked up at the newscast again just as Disco whimpered, pawing at the cabinets. Florida was a big state. The odds of that blast having anything to do with her were a million to one. The same odds he would have given on her showing up in his Jeep.

Her wallet lay on the dining-room table, where she’d tossed it when she’d fished out her clothes from her backpack. Without thinking twice, he left the sizzling stir-fry and strode straight over to flip open the well-worn tan leather. He pulled out cards stuffed inside until he found her driver’s license, checking her address.

Shit.

She lived on the same street as the one noted on the television screen. Right on the Miami-Dade/Broward County border. No way in hell was that a coincidence. To hell with objectivity and keeping his distance. Someone was gunning for Rachel. His Rachel.

He slapped down the wallet and charged toward the bathroom door.

***

Rachel tipped her face into the stinging spray, needing to melt away the hellish tension from carrying around the burden of what she knew. Finally, she had someone who was willing to listen to her, to help her. And not just anyone.

Liam.

Her skin tingled with a heat beyond anything coming out of the showerhead. The bathroom steam was so thick it almost muted the avocado green tile of the outdated bathroom. Rivulets streaked down the brown striped shower curtain. Everywhere around her, she confronted reminders of Liam, packing her brain with images of him standing in this shower.

The scent of his aftershave clung to the air. Reminders of Liam greeted her eyes no matter which way she turned—his shaving gel, razor, shampoo, and sport body wash. The space was as clean as the rest of the neatly kept house.

A crack of thunder split the air, startling her. Maybe she should have just stood out in the rain and let it wash her clean. She’d certainly done so in the past on SAR missions—rain, storms, waterfalls.

Thunder pounded again. Louder. So close it sounded nearly on top of her. She shrieked in surprise before she could finish registering it was only someone knocking.

Knocking mighty hard.

“Liam?” she called out as the door exploded open.

His broad shoulders filled the door, his dark blond hair backlit by illumination from the hall. “Are you okay? You screamed.”

She yanked the shower curtain to her body and said again, “Liam!”

Disco head-butted the back of Liam’s leg, whining. He moved deeper into the bathroom.

Her hands fisted around the brown vinyl curtain. “I screamed because you scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry. Here.” He yanked an oversized towel from the rack and tossed it to her. “You need to get dressed.”

She snagged the towel with one hand while her other still clutched tightly to the shower curtain. “I’m almost through. I’ll be out soon.”

“We don’t have any more time—” He stopped in his tracks. His eyes went wide, the sea green tint going stormy deep. His throat moved in a slow swallow before his gaze shot back up to her face.

She’d been attracted to him before, more than any man since her fiancé. But Liam had mentioned that love word back in the Bahamas. Such a beautiful, pain-filled word. Although he could have only been half serious about the whole love thing, she couldn’t go there again, not even partially. She’d resisted the sensual draw during the three weeks they’d worked together on the earthquake relief. Although right now, with her defenses stripped even barer than her body at the moment, she found it almost impossible to resist stepping into his arms again.

“Liam?” Clutching the towel to her br**sts, she swayed.

He scrubbed a hand over his square jaw, his eyes locked on her face. “Someone blew up your town house.”

Chapter 3

Shock, then horror, chased across Rachel’s face as she stood clutching the shower curtain and towel to her body. Droplets clung to her skin and her face. Were those tears on her cheeks? Ah shit, he was a sucker for a woman’s tears. Always had been. Seeing this woman cry multiplied his weakness exponentially.

“Rachel.” He stepped forward. “Are you all right?”

Her hand shot out. “Stop.”

What had he been thinking? That he would scoop her up naked in his arms and check out if her honey-toned skin was an allover thing or a tan? Yeah, there was a time he would have been all about that if she gave him a thumbs-up. But she’d cold-shouldered him for six months. She’d come to him now for protection. Not sex.

“Hurry, we need to talk.”

She blinked fast until the moisture cleared. “Believe me. I get that,” she said, her voice carefully modulated. “Please step outside while I put on some clothes.”

Her wet hair streaked down her back, the hot shower steaming a roll of mist around her legs until Liam could have sworn she was a mermaid rising from the mist.

A mermaid in a crap ton of trouble.

“Fair enough, Rachel, but talk to me while you’re doing it.”

He ducked into the hall and pulled the door closed after him. The image of her wet naked flesh stayed imprinted in his brain. The scent of her hung in the moist air. And while part of him wondered how he could be this damn hard for her in the middle of a crisis, another part of him, the primal part, pounded a deeper truth in his core being that went beyond logic.