Secret Agent Sam

He turned and lurched for his door, at the same time plunging a hand into his pocket and pulling out his room key. It was the old-fashioned kind, the metal fit-into-a-lock-and-turn kind, and while he was struggling with it, he felt Sam come up beside him. Felt her warmth like a tropical breeze on his skin…her womanly scent like an intoxicating drug. His head swam.

The key turned and he shoved the door inward. It was all he could do to say thickly, “Look, I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Shall we say…whoever gets up first, rouses the others?”

“Fine with me.”

He stepped into the room and turned toward her. Instead of backing away, saying good-night, she followed him in.

Hell. He’d forgotten the maps.

His overnighter was on the floor beside the door. He unzipped the outside pocket, took out the folded maps and handed them over without looking at her. “I’ve marked the rendezvous point and the location of the airstrip.” His breath felt meager, his chest tight.

She nodded—he could see that much as he flattened his back against the open door, making room for her to slip past him. Then she moved, and he had time for one surprised breath before she stepped close, slipped her arms around his neck, lifted herself and pressed her mouth against his.

Oh, no, she’s still the same. Still Sam. The confidence, the certainty, the sheer possession in the way she kisses me.

She knew him so well…knew just how and where to touch him…how to slide her body against his…melt her mouth into his. Fire squirted through all his veins; his thoughts turned to vapor, his bones to water.

Oh, God, she’s still the same.

“Sam,” he said feebly when at last she pulled away, “I promised I wouldn’t—”

“You promised,” she said in her old, familiar, arrogant way. “I didn’t.”

She patted his chest once with the folded maps, then went away and left him standing there.

Chapter 4

As the plane droned steadily eastward, the sun rose like an angry red sentinel and rushed to meet it. Sam blinked as its heat struck her face and its light assaulted her eyes even through the dark lenses of her sunglasses, and she drew a long exhilarated breath. It seemed like a personal challenge to her, that sun, a gauntlet thrown down in her path. Confidence swelled inside her, warm and red as the sun.

Yes! Whatever this day brings, I can handle it.

She glanced over when Cory eased into the copilot’s seat beside her. Something fluttered in her stomach, up high near her heart, then eased, leaving only the quickened tap-tap-tap of her pulse.

“Hey,” she greeted him, not trusting herself with more, for fear the gladness, the exhilaration inside her should leak into her voice. She hadn’t expected it, waking up this morning with this happiness, this almost giddy sense of triumph and well-being.

Last night had been a test of her strength and will, and she’d passed it with flying colors. Yeah, sure, the hunger, the lust, the craving for him were still there, and as powerful as ever. But it wasn’t an addiction. I can control this. I can handle it. I won’t let myself be hurt again.

“Hey, yourself,” he answered in his neutral way, and she could feel him studying her with his probing, inquisitive reporter’s eyes.

“Sleep well?” he inquired.

What with the hurry and hustle of getting everyone up, breakfasting, gathering belongings and equipment, getting to the airport, filing flight plans, prepping the plane and getting underway, it was the first moment they’d had alone together since she’d left him the night before.

“Yes, I did.” She didn’t try to keep the satisfaction—maybe even smugness—out of her voice. “How ’bout yourself?”

He made a soft dry sound, then muttered something under his breath. Something along the lines of, “Same old Sam…”

The urge to grin made the muscles in her face cramp, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to quell it.

Cory clasped his hands together, then leaned forward to gaze through the windshield at the low, cloud-shrouded smudge on the horizon. Fidgeting. The thought flashed into her mind: That’s not like him.

She said, “That’s the island you’re looking at out there. We’ll be landing in about…forty-five minutes.” He nodded but didn’t reply.

After listening to the droning of the aircraft’s engines for several minutes, she said, “Mind if I ask you something?” The look he threw her was both surprised and wary—she didn’t usually ask permission. “I’m curious—Will and I both were, actually. Why charter a plane for this? Why didn’t you just hire a boat? Woulda been a lot simpler—cheaper, too.”

He gave her a look and said mildly, “I’m going into a terrorist’s hideout to interview one of the most wanted and dangerous men in the world. When I’m done with that, I’d rather not have to get through forty miles of jungle before I’m home free.”

“Okay, I can see that. Then wouldn’t a helicopter be more practical?”

The look he gave her this time was wry. “I was specifically warned not to use a helicopter. Apparently, both Philippine government forces and U.S. Special Ops are active in that area. When al-Rami’s troops see a chopper they do their best to shoot it down.”

“Ah,” said Sam, keeping her voice neutral. “So…” she persisted after a moment, “why did you ask for such a big plane? There’s just the two of you. Why not a Cessna? It’d be a whole lot easier to land and take off on those remote airstrips.”

He shifted again as if something was irritating him, but replied in a calm, almost conversational way. “That’s not a problem. Apparently, there’s a landing strip near the rendezvous point that was built by the Americans during World War Two, and the villagers have kept it up—they get most of their supplies that way. The roads in and out of the region aren’t reliable at the best of times, and during the monsoon season they’re sometimes impassable.” He threw her a grin. “You shouldn’t have any trouble. In fact, this old bird ought to feel right at home.”

Sam frowned at the cloudy horizon. “That still doesn’t explain—” Then she broke off as it hit her. “Oh, good God. They have hostages. You’re going to try to get them out.” He didn’t answer. She looked over at him. “Aren’t you? That’s what this is all about—the interview—” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “That’s how you were able to get approval from State, isn’t it? I should have known.”

Dammit, I should have known. Why weren’t we told about this? Same old story…left hand doesn’t have a clue what the right hand’s doing….

Cory’s quiet, reasonable voice broke in on her silent fuming. “I intend to try to negotiate for their release during the course of the interview, sure. How can I not try? What else would you expect me to do?”

She let out a short, sharp breath. “Nothing—absolutely nothing. It’s exactly what you would do. Like I said—I should have known.” She threw him a distracted glance, not even registering the puzzled look on his face or the probing intensity of his eyes as she switched to her captain’s voice.

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