His breathing still sounded rough. She pulled her head free and then propped herself up so she could examine his face.
He was no longer just pale. His soft eyes were haunted, tormented, his jaw tight against the panic he was trying to control. A raised line pulsed in his forehead. He stared at her like he was pleading for a release from pain.
His expression ignited a nightmare of a memory, the memory of his interrogation, and she impulsively threw her arms around his neck, pulling his head up off the floor of the Humvee and hugging it tight to her chest to hide that face. She felt her own convulsive shiver, and the clinical side of her brain let her know that she was every bit as traumatized as he was. Her nonclinical side didn’t care what the reason was. A wave of panic was washing through her and she felt as if she couldn’t hold him close enough to reassure herself that he was actually alive and safe and here. As if she might suddenly blink and be back inside her black tent with Daniel screaming in agony. Or, worse, she would open her eyes to the dark upstairs hallway only to find Daniel’s bleeding body at her feet instead of the hit man’s. Her pulse spiked and she couldn’t breathe.
Daniel rolled their bodies so he was at her side, and his hands peeled hers free from his head. For a second she thought he was about to take the comforter’s role at which she had failed so spectacularly, but then their eyes met and she was looking into a mirror of all the turmoil and fear in her own head. Fear of loss, fear of having because that made the loss possible. Rather than comfort, the depth of his fear multiplied hers. She could lose him, and she didn’t know how to live with that.
CHAPTER 21
Their lips crushed together so suddenly she wasn’t sure who had moved first.
And then their bodies were tangling together with a kind of desperate fury, lips and fingers, tongues and teeth. Breathing was secondary and she managed it only in broken pants that left her still dizzy. She wanted nothing but to be closer, and then closer, to be inside his skin somehow so that he could never be ripped away from her. She felt the scald as the wound along her jaw reopened, and all the bruises, old and new, flared to life, but the pain did nothing to distract from that acute need. They grappled almost like adversaries, turning and twisting together in the limits of the small space, slamming against the duffel bags and then back to the floor. She was amazed at how electrifying his brute strength was—strength in a man had always been something to fear, but now she thrilled to it. Fabric tore, and she couldn’t guess who it belonged to. She remembered the texture of his skin, the shape of his muscles under her hands, but she had not imagined they could feel like this against her own.
Closer, her blood pulsed. Closer.
And then he suddenly jerked away, his mouth sliding from hers with a choked gasp. An anxious whine sounded at her feet. She leaned over and saw Einstein with his jaws locked on Daniel’s ankle. Einstein whimpered again.
“Einstein, at ease,” he growled, kicking to free his foot. “Get off.”
Einstein let him go, looking to her nervously.
“At ease!” Her voice was husky. “It’s okay.”
With a hesitant huff, Einstein dropped out of the open hatch.
Daniel rolled up and slammed the door shut. He turned toward her on his knees, his pupils dilated and his eyes wild. He gritted his teeth as if he were fighting for some kind of control.
She reached up for him, her fingers stretching to hook into the waistband of his jeans, and he collapsed into her with a low groan.
“Alex, Alex,” he breathed against her neck. “Stay with me. Don’t leave.”
Even in the frenzy of the moment, she was aware what he was asking. And she meant what she said when she answered, knowing it could be the worst kind of mistake.
“I will,” she promised roughly. “I won’t.”
Their mouths locked together again, and she could feel his heart drumming a syncopated rhythm against her own, aligned beneath their skin because his mirrored hers.
The shrill peal of the phone pierced through the lower register sounds—the double heartbeat, the gasping breaths—and had her pushing away from him in a different kind of panic.
He shook his head quickly once, eyes closed, as if trying to remember where he was.
She sat up, looking for the source of the sound.
“I’ve got it,” Daniel said, gasping. He shoved his hand in his jeans pocket as the phone pealed again.
He looked at the number, then hit Answer with his thumb. With his left hand, he pulled her back against his chest.
“Kev?” Daniel answered between pants.
“Danny—hey, are you guys safe?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to get some sleep.”
“Sounds like you’re running a marathon.”
“The phone scared me. Nerves a little frayed, you know.” He lied so smoothly that she almost smiled in spite of the tumult inside her.
“Oh, right, sorry. Let me talk to Oleander.”
“You mean Alex?”