Mountain Retreat

“You leave me no choice but to take you into protective custody.”

“You’re arresting me?”

“There’s no need to be melodramatic. The only restriction is that you won’t be allowed to talk to anyone. You’ll be kept in comfortable accommodations, and it will only be for about a week.”

Overwhelmed by rage, she saw red. “You can’t do that.”

“Actually, I can.”

“What about my work?”

“We’ll handle it,” Hawthorne said. “This is inconvenient for all of us. It would have been easier if you’d just stayed in the interrogation room.” She shot an accusing glance toward Phillips.

“Don’t blame him,” Sidney said. “After I saw the photos you took in the rebel camp, I took off running. I had a question for you.”

“Go ahead and ask.”

“I wanted to know if you’d seen my fiancé.” She turned toward Nick, who had remained silent throughout this exchange. “The answer is obvious.”

He came toward her and slipped his arm around her waist, a familiar gesture. Leaning against his chest, she was more comfortable than she’d been in half a year. Their bodies fit together so nicely.

His deep voice rumbled. “There’s no reason for Sidney to be detained. She doesn’t know anything about my assignment, except that I’m back in town. Hurtado and the rebels are aware of that fact.”

“I don’t want her talking to anyone.”

“A simple instruction,” Nick said. “She can handle it.”

“Unacceptable,” Hawthorne said. “I don’t believe she can be trusted. She’s a civilian.”

“Which is why you can’t take her into custody against her will,” Nick said. “You’re right about me. I’m obligated to follow orders. But Sidney wants to be home.”

She appreciated the way he was taking care of her, putting her comfort ahead of his own. She tilted her head back so she could see him. “I haven’t done much with the house.”

Before he’d left, they’d purchased a bungalow together. She had intended to use the time while he was on deployment to do some decorating, but when he’d gone missing, she couldn’t bear to make any new purchases. Cardboard boxes still packed with their belongings were stacked in every room of the house. In spite of a lovely walk-in closet, she was living out of a suitcase.

“I’ve been dreaming about our house,” he whispered, “coming home and finding you waiting for me in the bedroom.”

The tone of his voice hit precisely the right chords inside her. His words were music that touched her soul. She knew there was only one way she could be certain that everything was all right between them. She needed to kiss him.

“Try to understand,” the lieutenant said. “The CIA is running this show. We need to do all we can to help them.”

“Yes, sir,” Nick said, “and I’m not refusing. But I want Sidney to be comfortable. She’s been through enough.”

“I agree,” the lieutenant said. “It’s important to be sensitive to the needs of the family.”

“What if she’s in danger?” Phillips asked. “The rebels could kidnap her and use her to influence you.”

“If that’s true,” Nick said, “why wasn’t she under protection before?”

She listened with half an ear to their discussion. The rest of her mind focused on one goal: kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. If she could feel his lips on hers and know their relationship was okay, she could handle anything.

Special Agent Hawthorne stomped around her desk and took a position behind it. The only overt signs of her anger were the flaring of her nostrils and a sharp gleam in her flinty eyes. Her voice was low, monotone. “I will agree to send Ms. Parker home while Captain Corelli stays in protective custody. There will be no communication between them unless it’s cleared through me. Phillips will accompany her and keep an eye on her. Is that satisfactory?”

“It works for me,” Nick said.

“And for me,” she said.

She shifted her position within his embrace, turned toward him and tilted her head upward. Her eyelids closed, and her lips parted. The office wasn’t an appropriate place for their first kiss, but she couldn’t take the chance that Hawthorne would tear Nick away from her.

When his mouth joined with hers, a sweet rush of warmth spread through her body. His lips were firm. His taste always reminded her of honeysuckle. His scent was a pine forest after a rain. He held her with a perfect balance of strength and gentleness.

Even on a bummer day when he wasn’t in the mood, Nick was the most irresistible kisser she’d ever known. Though his lips pressed against hers and invited her to respond, he seemed...detached. This kiss wasn’t exactly right.

Silently, she cursed her eidetic memory that had recorded every nuance of their lovemaking in indelible detail. She missed the light scrape of his teeth against her lower lip, the quick stroke of his tongue and the fire.

Embarrassed, she pulled away. What had she been expecting? He certainly wasn’t going to give her the kind of kiss she wanted while standing in an office surrounded by intelligence agents. This was no basis for judgment.

* * *

IN THE BACKSEAT of an unmarked SUV, Sidney sat beside Nick on their way to drop her off at their house. An agent she’d never met before was driving, and Phillips sat beside him in the passenger seat.

“Special Agent Phillips,” she said, leaning forward to speak to him. “Thank you.”

“It didn’t feel right to keep you in the dark,” he said. “I’m surprised y’all got Hawthorne to make a concession.”

“She’s a hard nut to crack.”

“Just doing her job,” Phillips drawled.

Though wearing her seat belt, her shoulder rubbed against Nick’s and her naked thigh grazed the fabric of his trousers. She could feel him watching her.

“Interesting outfit,” he said, “I never thought you went in for gingham.”

“I have a new job at the Silver Star Saloon, night shift.”

“Why?”

“It’s kind of fun,” she said, avoiding the sad truth. “The place is a microbrewery with ninety-nine different brands of beer, and I like to take big orders and show off by remembering every last one of them.”

“You wanted to keep yourself busy,” he said. “My God, Sidney, I’m so damn sorry.”

There were so many things she wanted to know but was afraid to talk about. What had happened to him while he was held captive? Was he hurt? How was he rescued? Instead, she kept the topic light.

“I should warn you about the house.” Quickly, she glanced up at him and then looked away. His nearness was also having a sensual effect on her. Did she dare to try another kiss? “I haven’t done much with it, with the house.”

“But you had such big plans for decorating.”

“I wanted you to help me make up my mind. I haven’t even painted the disgusting turquoise in the kitchen.”

“What colors are you thinking about?”

Decisions that had seemed impossible yesterday became clear. “I like a soft beige with dark gold and brown granite countertops.”

“And in the bedroom?”

“Blue,” she said.

“Like the Colorado skies you grew up with.”

He knew her so well. At this time of the year, in early November, they usually took a ski vacation in Colorado, where her parents had a vacation cabin. “I don’t mind Austin, but I love my mountains.”

“Tell me about this bar where you’re working.”

“Should I recite the ninety-nine varieties of beer?”

“Please don’t.”

Their conversation was cozy and natural and deliberately avoided dangerous topics. She felt as if she was walking through a minefield. They talked until they pulled up to the curb outside the one-story, redbrick bungalow with shrubs under the windows and a live oak in the front yard. The grass was a little raggedy in winter.

“It’s even cuter than I remembered,” Nick said as he unfastened his seat belt.

“Whoa,” Phillips said. “My orders are for you to stay in the vehicle while I escort Sidney inside.”

“You’re going to have to hog-tie me to keep me from going into my own house.” Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Hand in hand, they walked up the sidewalk together. Being separated from him again would be hard, but she was willing to put up with a few days now that she knew he was safe. “You’ll call me, won’t you?”

“Every day.”

“I wish you could stay here.”

“Me, too.”

She noticed that the porch lamp was dark. She thought she’d turned it on before she’d left for work. The bulb must have burned out. But there were two bulbs in the fixture. What were the odds of both burning out at the same time? “I must have forgotten to turn on the porch lamp.”

As she reached toward the lock with her key, the front door yanked inward. A barrage of gunfire erupted.

Chapter Three

Before the bullets flew, Nick had suspected trouble. His beautiful, brilliant Sidney never forgot anything, especially not the locking-up procedures when she left the house. She knew to leave a light burning.

His right arm flung around her slender waist. He scooped her off her feet and pulled her against him as he flattened his back against the brick wall beside the front door. Bullets tore through the opened door and cut into the night.

Still holding Sidney, he stepped off the concrete stoop and ducked into the space between the shrubbery and the red brick wall. “Stay down,” he said as he drew a Glock 9 from his ankle holster. He fired two shots toward the open door to let the intruders know he was armed.

It had taken a lot of negotiation to convince Hawthorne to allow him to carry a firearm, and his talk had been worth every minute. The gun felt good in his hand. When it came to survival, Nick trusted himself more than anyone else.

Special Agent Phillips and the other Fed who had been the driver were out of the vehicle and moving toward them.

“You good?” Phillips called out.

Nick gave him a silent okay signal and then motioned him toward the live oak at the far left side of the front yard. He assumed the two agents would know enough to avoid the sight line from the front window. After he turned Sidney over to their protection, he’d go back to the house and catch the sons of bitches who set up this ambush. Shielding her with his body, he crept under the window ledge toward the corner of the house.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“I’m taking you to Phillips. He’ll get you to safety.”

She balked. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

He hadn’t expected resistance. “It’s better if you’re out of the way.”

“Not if I’m armed. I can help.”

His attitude shifted from mild surprise to downright shock. Six months ago, Sidney hadn’t known how to handle a weapon.

A fresh blast of gunfire exploded behind them. Shards of glass from the shattered front window rained over them. He looked down at the delicate, pale oval of her face. Her jaw was set. Her clear blue eyes showed no fear.

“You don’t know how to shoot,” he said.

“I learned,” she said, cool as ice. “It’s not a difficult skill, and I have excellent hand-eye coordination.”

“Why?”

“I thought I might have to go to Tiquanna and rescue you. Learning to handle weaponry seemed prudent.”

The idea of Sidney charging into the palace of a Third World dictator gave him pause, but he didn’t dismiss the notion. She was a remarkable woman. “For now, let’s do it my way.”

“I’m tired of people telling me what to do,” she said, “and that includes you, Nick. I’m part of this operation.”

“I won’t let you risk your life.”

“Ditto.”

“We can’t stay where we are.” He nudged her forward. “Stay low and run toward the live oak where Phillips and the other agent are waiting. I’ll cover you.”

“And you’ll follow me,” she said. “Promise that you’ll be right behind me. If you aren’t, I’ll come back for you.”

“Just go.”

As she stepped out from the shrubbery, he dodged to the right and fired into the house through the shattered front window. From the corner of his eye, he saw her make it to the tree. Though he would have preferred heading to the rear of the house, he ran behind her.

Sheltered by the shade tree, Nick took command. “Phillips, you stay here and keep them pinned down. I’ll go around to the back door and do the same. I want to take these guys alive.”

“I assume that Special Agent Phillips has already called for backup,” Sidney said, again surprising him with her savvy comprehension of a dangerous situation. “If we keep the gunmen contained in the house until the others arrive, we’ll have the manpower to take them.”

Phillips gaped at her, and then stared at Nick. “What the hell’s going on with y’all?”

Nick didn’t have time to explain. “Get her to safety.”

“I can help,” she said. “Give me a weapon.”

In her short denim skirt and gingham shirt with her blond hair tucked behind her ears, she looked about as dangerous as Cowgirl Barbie. But he knew better than to doubt her abilities. “There’s no reason for you to take any risks.”

“I could say the same to you.”

But this was his job. He’d been trained for combat. He knew how to handle himself. “I’ll stay safe.”

After another burst of gunfire from the house, Nick separated from the others and emptied the bullets from his Glock 9 into the front of the house. He loaded a fresh clip and ran, returning to the left side of the house, where he ducked down. Remembering the floor plan of their little bungalow, he knew that the windows above him opened onto a dining room that attached to the kitchen. The only exits from the house were the front entry and the kitchen door. He eased toward the rear of the house.

Stark, silvery moonlight glistened across the backyard patio and the waist-high chain link fence. Nick was painfully aware that he wasn’t in a simple village in Tiquanna, where danger was a way of life. The complications of being in Austin were wide and varied. When lights went on in the house next door, he prayed that his neighbors had the good sense to stay inside. From down the street, he heard dogs barking. If this firefight continued, there were sure to be casualties.

Scanning the yard, he decided that the best vantage point for watching the kitchen door would be at the far side of the backyard, but that area offered little in the way of cover, and he wasn’t carrying another ammunition clip. Every shot had to count. His best option was to stay where he was and fire at anyone who came through the door. He wanted to take these men alive, to find out why they were coming after him.

If this attack had been arranged by the underfunded Tiquanna rebels, he didn’t expect sophisticated weaponry. They’d wear bulletproof vests but not body armor. How many of them were there in the house? He’d seen flashes from at least two weapons.

He heard more gunfire at the front of the house. The longer he waited for the gunmen to make their move, the greater the risk that somebody was going to get shot. Nick had to take the fight to the rebels.

Ignoring the chronic ache from a sprained ankle that hadn’t healed correctly, he vaulted the chain link fence and approached the kitchen door. The interior of the house was dark. There were shouts from inside and more gunfire.

From the street at the front of the house, he heard a police siren and winced. He could have handled the situation with two other marines. Now he’d be dealing with cops, Texas Rangers and backup from the CIA...and Sidney. He couldn’t help being proud of her. She’d learned to shoot and had been planning to take on the whole country of Tiquanna to engineer his rescue. He regretted every minute he’d been away from her and every lie he’d ever told her.

Red and blue cop lights flashed like fireworks through the branches of the trees, lighting up the neighborhood. There were shouts and more chaotic gunfire. The situation was slipping out of control. If he hoped to take these guys alive, he needed to rein it in.

A young, fresh-faced Texas Ranger with a handgun appeared at the back gate.

“Don’t shoot,” Nick said. “I’m on your side.”

“Put down your gun.”

Nick couldn’t blame the kid. If they’d traded places, he would have done the same. Another Ranger joined the first. Now there were two of them, yelling at him to disarm himself.

“Stand down.” The order was barked with the authority of a marine. Lieutenant Butler had joined the Rangers. “He’s on our side, boys.”

There was an explosion at the front of the house. It sounded like a grenade, but Nick guessed it was a flash-bang device that made a lot of noise and fired off thick smoke to drive the gunmen from the house.

The kitchen door flung open and two men wearing balaclavas rushed through. Nick was caught between the Rangers and the masked men. He pivoted and aimed at the rebels.

Bracing himself, he shouted, “Drop your guns.” He repeated the command in Spanish. For a moment, it looked as if they might obey. Then three other armed cops came around from the front and opened fire. Nick dropped to the ground.

When the smoke cleared, the two masked men were sprawled facedown on the concrete patio. Two of the Rangers had also been shot. Their cries and moans struck a familiar chord in Nick’s memory. The stink of blood and gunpowder dragged him back in time to other battles, other attacks. Adrenaline pumped up his senses. He staggered to his feet.

He didn’t seem to be injured. By some miracle, he had been spared. Stumbling, he approached one of the downed rebels and yanked the mask from his face. He’d been shot in the head, but enough of his features remained for Nick to identify him. His name was Rico.

Agent Phillips dashed into view. “I don’t want you to worry, Nick. She’s going to be all right.”

Sidney. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

* * *

SIDNEY WASN’T HAPPY about the blatantly obvious police presence in front of her house. Most of her neighbors were still strangers, and this wasn’t how she wanted to be introduced. Still, making a bad first impression might be the least of her worries. Number one was, of course, that she and Nick had been targeted, which validated Special Agent Hawthorne’s insistence on safe houses. Number two, Sidney had been injured. She sat on the rear step bumper of one of the two ambulances with a bandage wrapped around her upper left arm.

A bullet had grazed her. Though the EMT told her she needed stitches, he also assured her that the wound wasn’t serious. She clenched her jaw, telling herself that it didn’t hurt even though the straight slash across her biceps stung like hellfire. The EMT had given her something for the pain, but it hadn’t kicked in yet. If only the bleeding would stop... Her bandage was already soaked through. Nick was going to be upset.

When she saw him plowing through the mob of law enforcement officers like a running back crashing toward the goalposts, she stood and adjusted the black POLICE windbreaker draped over her shoulders so he couldn’t see the bandage.

His thick black hair—though neatly trimmed—stuck out in spikes. The lines in his face seemed to be etched more deeply, and he looked much older than his thirty years. This was a part of her fiancé that she didn’t know. She’d never seen him in action. The battle-tested marine who had experienced the devastation of war and who risked his life on a daily basis was a good, brave, admirable man. She wanted to be closer to him, but he kept his warrior spirit hidden.

As he approached, she could tell that he intended to embrace her, which was really going to hurt her arm. She held up a hand, bringing him to a halt.

“This wasn’t my fault,” she said. “Phillips wouldn’t give me a weapon, and I was trying to obey orders and go back to the vehicle, but others kept arriving and—”

“Were you wounded?”

“It’s nothing serious.” She turned away from him, hoping to hide the bandage. “A couple of stitches and I’ll be good as new.”

Gently, he removed the windbreaker. When he saw the bandage, he inhaled a sharp gasp. “You need medical attention.”

“Several other people have been wounded. The EMTs have their hands full.”

“You’re pale, Sidney. Have you lost a lot of blood?”

“I don’t think so.” But she did feel a bit dizzy and unsure on her feet. “I took a pill.”

“You could be going into shock.” He wrapped the windbreaker around her again and held her against his chest in such a way that her left arm was untouched. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so damn sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I never should have left you alone.”

Agent Victoria Hawthorne, wearing her own black windbreaker with CIA stenciled across the back, charged toward them. “Get in the back of the ambulance, both of you.”

Glaring at her, Nick gestured toward the battlefield on their front lawn. “How the hell did this happen?”

“A misjudgment,” she snapped. “Do what I say. I need to get you both out of here.”

“Where are we going?”

Angrily, she gestured to the back of the ambulance. “Let’s move. We’ll talk on the way.”

After Sidney refused to lie on the gurney, Hawthorne shoved it out of the way and they sat on plastic-cushioned seats with minimal seat belts. Wall space and drawers held an array of medical equipment, including oxygen tanks, defibrillators and stethoscopes. She reached for a blanket to cover her bare legs and settled back on the seat as they pulled away with the siren blaring.

Hawthorne barked into her cell phone, snapping out instructions to her staff. Sidney figured that if anyone should be offering an apology, it was the thin, angry senior agent. She was the one who gave the okay for Sidney to go home without having her house checked out first.

Her skeletal hand, holding the phone, dropped to her lap. She spoke loudly so they could hear her over the siren. “The only way this operation could be arranged so quickly was with prior knowledge. We have a leak, a mole.”

“At the CIA,” Nick said.

“I don’t know. Several other agencies are involved in this operation, including Marine Intelligence.” With a disgusted snort, she shook her head. “I never should have allowed you to come to the house with your fiancée.”

“Thank God you made that misjudgment.” His voice was cold, hard and angry. Sidney had never heard him speak so harshly. “If I hadn’t been along, she would have walked into this ambush by herself, defenseless and vulnerable.”

Hawthorne pinched her lips together. “Not necessarily.”

“They would have taken Sidney hostage, used her to get what they wanted.”

The ambulance careened around a corner, and she was thrown against his shoulder. Her wound still ached, but she appreciated the warmth of the blanket over her knees and the jacket around her shoulders. A comfortable heat spread through her, and she felt her eyelids begin to droop. Though she had plenty to say to Hawthorne, it was a struggle to merely stay alert.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Hawthorne said. “We’ll swap vehicles shortly, and you will be taken to the safe house.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Sidney,” he said.

“Understood.” She gave a terse nod. “For now, you’ll be staying together.”

Chapter Four

Propped up against several pillows, Sidney wakened slowly, cautiously. She peered through heavy-lidded eyes at a dimly lit bedroom with pine furniture. Where am I? Her legs stretched out straight in front of her on a king-size bed with a dark blue comforter. Not my bed.

Wiggling her butt to get comfortable, she winced at the sharp pain from her left arm. I was wounded.

Her memory began to kick in. She heard the echo of an ambulance siren. She remembered being moved into the backseat of a car, looking out the window. And there had been horses and open fields and moonlight. And Nick, she’d been with Nick.

“Not possible,” she whispered. Her throat was dry and scratchy. Her tongue felt swollen. She couldn’t have been with Nick because he was in Tiquanna.

Carefully, she turned on her side so her arm wouldn’t rub against anything. Nick wasn’t here, and she had to accept that fact. All the denial in the world wouldn’t make a difference. She closed her eyes. If the only way she could see him was in her dreams, she wanted to sleep forever.