# The Secret Soldier

Jennifer Morey

## About the Author

JENNIFER MOREY has been creating stories since she fell in love with The Black Stallion by Walter Farley. She has a BS in geology from Colorado State University and is now program specialist for the spacecraft systems segment of a satellite imagery and information company. She holds a Secret-level security clearance. Jennie has received several awards for her writing, one of which led to the publication of her debut novel, The Secret Soldier. She lives in Loveland, Colorado, with her yellow Lab and golden retriever.

The Secret

Soldier

Jennifer Morey


www.millsandboon.co.uk

Special thanks go to Dave Baker for letting me have my way in the opening scenes of this story. Dave, those hours in front of your white board were sure entertaining! You have an amazing brain and your knowledge of the military was invaluable to me. Any mistakes are my own. To everyone who supported me on my long journey to publication, your positive influence kept me going at my lowest moments. Everyone at Digital-Globe—there are too many to name you all. You know who you are. Gary Geissinger, don’t worry, you won’t end up in my novel. Neal Anderson and Walter Scott, any other bosses would have fired me for taking so much time off to write! Natalie Ottobrino and Margie Lawson, your strength resonates with me. To my entire family, who put up with my many absences so I could write. Dan, even though we aren’t together anymore, you were an integral part of my success and will always be my friend. Jackie, you are my favorite twin—despite your poor taste in fiction. To Sandra Kerns and Annette Elton, for helping me make sure my characters didn’t do anything too stupid. And to every other critique partner I have learned from along the way.

But the highest acknowledgment goes to my mother, Joan Morey, whose passing inspired me to follow my heart.

## Chapter 1

“One more week in this hellhole.”

Kneeling on the ground, Sabine O’Clery finished winding a water-level indicator reel from inside a borehole before looking up at her unhappy field partner. Samuel Barry scowled across the grayish-brown landscape of Afghanistan’s Panjshir Valley. Sabine followed his gaze, a dry, hot breeze rustling the loose strands of hair that had escaped her pony tail. High, desolate mountains surrounded them under a clear blue sky, and yellow patches of grass covered the ground where they worked. She found immense satisfaction putting her hydrogeology degree to good use in places like this, but she couldn’t argue with Samuel’s sentiment.

“It’s pretty here,” she quipped.

Samuel grunted in disgust. “Yeah, if you like dirt and no amenities.”

“Everyone needs clean drinking water,” she said. She’d grown attached to some of the villagers, too.

Samuel grumbled as he put a portable reader on the ground next to the borehole. He was a big man who always talked about his wife.

“I can’t wait to taste Lisandra’s homemade orange juice,” he said, as if on cue.

Sabine smiled. Would she ever find a man who made her feel like talking sweet nonsense about him? Ha! She wasn’t going to hold her breath.

“She makes a killer crème brûlée, too.”

“And her cheese soufflés?” she teased.

Samuel laughed. “My mouth is watering already.” He looked at her. “Sorry. I just miss her.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

“Just wait ‘til you get married. Then you’ll know what it’s like.”

Marriage seemed so foreign to her. “Not everyone falls madly in love and lives happily ever after.”

“Maybe not out here.” He gestured to the dry landscape. The pages of the field book he held flapped with the movement, his thumb keeping the ones against the cover flat.

Maybe not ever. She didn’t want to end up like her mother, loving a man who came around only when it suited him, always leaving for his next thrill. Nothing irritated her more than being treated like a thrill.

“You have to stop comparing every man to your dad,” Samuel said.

She set the indicator reel aside and reached for the borehole reader, wishing she’d never mentioned her father to him. “I don’t.” Not every man.

He sent her an unconvinced frown from above the field book but didn’t argue.

“I haven’t seen him since he showed up at my college graduation and ruined what should have been my best accomplishment. Why would I compare anyone to him?”

Samuel raised a brow, telling her without words that the emotional response had just answered her own question.

Okay, so he was right. Her father epitomized the kind of man she never wanted to marry. She remembered the way she had felt when he’d shown up at her graduation. Unchecked hope that he’d come for the right reason flashed before a too-familiar self-doubt. Did he know about that ? she got her freshman year? Never mind the honors. Maybe hydrogeology wasn’t scientifically challenging enough. If she’d become the first female president of the United States, her father probably still wouldn’t have been impressed.

So why waste any energy thinking of him at all? It wasn’t supposed to bother her anymore. She’d overcome her insecurities and childish hopes the moment she left him standing in that college auditorium.

Connecting the reader to the piezometer inside the borehole harder than necessary, Sabine waited for the measurement to appear on the display. Samuel wrote the number down in his field book, eyeing her dubiously.

She’d never seen what real happiness looked like until she met her field partner. Maybe that’s what had her thinking about her father so much lately. Happiness was not a word she’d learned from his example.

She straightened from the borehole. They were finished for the day.

“Let’s go see if our supply helicopter brought us some cold beer.” Samuel closed his field book.

“If Aden came with it, there’ll be beer.” As CEO of Envirotech and the one who had contracted them to do the groundwater analysis, Aden Archer always made room in the supply helicopter for good beer.

“He sure does come here a lot. Have you noticed that?”

“He doesn’t come here that much.”

“He doesn’t need to be here at all.”

She didn’t think it was that unusual. “I saw him meet with one of the locals once. Maybe it’s business related.”

Samuel’s brow creased as he looked at her. “Who’d he meet?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t recognize him. All I saw was the back of his head.”

It took him a moment to respond. “Don’t you think that’s a little weird? Why would he need to meet with any of the locals?”

“Who knows.” Was Samuel as concerned as he seemed? Why? “He isn’t hurting anyone.”

Samuel looked at her a moment longer before he smiled, convincing her she’d misread him. “Especially if he brings beer. Come on, let’s go.” He started to walk toward the Jeep.

Sabine followed. She didn’t feel like drinking beer. What she’d really like was a long, hot bath. With bubbles. And a good fantasy of a man who cherished her more than anything else in his life.

She breathed a laugh. Samuel’s daydreaming was starting to rub off on her, apparently.

The sound of a vehicle made her stop and turn with a rush of alertness. No one ever came to see them out here. A pickup truck with the cab cut off bounced along the terrain. Several dark-skinned men were inside. Her heart slammed into a wild beat. They all held automatic weapons.

Samuel swore and dropped his field book before taking her hand to pull her ahead of him. She tripped as she started to run, her hand slipping free of his. Get to the Jeep. That was her only thought as she pumped her legs as hard as she could. But she could already see that the Jeep was too far away.

They weren’t going to make it.

Oh God, please no.

She heard Samuel’s heavy footfalls behind her. Hard breathing. More swearing.

“Run faster!” he yelled.

She didn’t have to be told. If they were caught …

She couldn’t think it.

Gunfire exploded. Sabine screamed and scrambled to dodge the spitting dirt where bullets struck the ground. The truck skidded to a halt between them and the Jeep. More bullets sprayed at their feet, forcing them to stop running.

Several men jumped off the open truck, shouting in Farsi, “Don’t move! Don’t move!”

Samuel grabbed Sabine’s arm and pulled her behind him. She wanted to keep running. Instinct urged her to get away. But they’d shoot her if she tried. Shaking, she peered around Samuel’s big arm and watched in horror as rebels surrounded them.

After a stuffy flight from Washington, D.C., Cullen McQueen left Miami’s sweltering heat and entered Executive Indemnity Corporation. A security guard behind a reception desk looked up and smiled.

“I’m here to see Noah Page,” Cullen said. “He’s expecting me.”

“Your name?”

“Henrietta,” Cullen answered.

The man nodded his understanding and stood. He led Cullen to a locked door and let him through. Cullen entered a sprawling office area surrounded by closed doors. He spotted a woman standing near one of them.

She smiled. “You can go right in, Mr….”

“Thanks.” He smiled back at her and went into the conference room. Only one person knew his name here, and he was going to keep it that way.

Noah Page stood with his arms behind his back, staring out a panel of tinted windows on the far side of the room. He turned as Cullen shut the door. His face was lined and pale. Dark circles matched the grave worry in his blue eyes and his gray hair looked as if he’d run his fingers through it several times.

Cullen walked the length of the long conference room table and stopped before Noah, shaking his hand.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Noah said.

“You said it was urgent. Something about your daughter?”

Noah swallowed, a scared reflex. The notion of a man like Noah Page being scared piqued Cullen’s curiosity. And a heap of foreboding.

“She’s been kidnapped.”

Cullen went still. “Do you know where she is?”

“Yes … Afghanistan. The Panjshir Valley.”

That was in the mountains. The Hindu Kush. There weren’t many worse places Noah’s daughter could have been captured. “What’s she doing there?”

“She’s a contractor for Envirotech. She and another contractor were assessing groundwater conditions near one of the villages in the valley when they were abducted. I need you to get her out of there, Cullen. You’re the only one I know who can do it.”

Cullen laughed without humor. “You must have me confused with God.”

“No.” Noah sounded certain. “You know the terrain. You’ve done this kind of mission before. You do it all the time.”

Not suicide missions, Cullen thought. He curbed his instinct to flat-out refuse Noah. “I know you’re worried about your daughter, but you have to realize how difficult it will be to get her out of there. Not only is Afghanistan unstable, it’s landlocked. You’d have to cross Indian and Pakistani ground defenses to get there.” That didn’t even begin to address U.S. forces inside the border.

“I’ve already met with the Minister of the Interior in Pakistan. He’s agreed to clear you a flight plan into Afghanistan. There are regularly scheduled flights we can use as cover.”

Cullen just stared at him.

“I’ve also procured two armed Mi-8 transport helicopters capable of flying high altitudes, one for backup and to carry extra fuel,” Noah continued. “You’ll have a DeHavilland Twin Otter equipped with a special jamming pod. It’s been modified to fly long distances, too. I spared no expense on the equipment.”

Rising tension tightened Cullen’s jaw. He could not agree to this. But it was Noah asking.

“She’s all I have left,” Noah said in the silence, a pleading sound that didn’t match the man. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other option.” He leaned over the conference room table and pushed a newspaper toward Cullen.

Slowly, Cullen lowered his gaze. The page covering the kidnapping of two American contractors was exposed. Cullen had read about the kidnapping and seen it all over the news, but he’d never connected the name Sabina O’Clery with Noah Page. The media had stirred huge public interest in the female contractor who’d been taken by terrorists along with her partner, Samuel Barry.

He looked at the photo of Sabine. She smiled wide and bright, green eyes dancing with life, red hair long and thick. She was a beautiful woman. He’d thought so the first time he’d seen the photo. He’d also thought with regret that she would probably be killed before anyone could do anything.

Cullen raised only his eyes to look at Noah. Why did it have to be Afghanistan?

“You’re my only hope of seeing my daughter alive again,” Noah said quietly, urgently. “I’ve made mistakes in my life, but this one will kill me if she dies over there. Before I have a chance to make things right with her.”

Cullen wanted to groan out loud. How could he say no? To Noah. Any other man, he’d already have been walking out the door. But Noah …

He couldn’t say no. He had to do it. He owed Noah too much.

“It’s going to take time to plan,” he heard himself say.

Noah closed his eyes, a sign that he recognized Cullen’s indirect agreement. “How much time?”

“A week. Maybe less. I have to be careful.” And wasn’t that just the understatement of the year.

Noah nodded. “I know you’ll do the best you can.”

Even his best might not keep him alive, but he held that thought to himself. “What kind of intelligence do you have?” Cullen looked down at the table and saw a map and several satellite images.

“Before we talk strategy, there’s something you need to understand about my daughter.”

Cullen looked back at Noah and waited. What could possibly matter when her life was on the line?

“She despises me.”

Cullen couldn’t stop his brow from rising.

“She has for years,” Noah continued. “Ever since she was old enough to think on her own.”

“I’m sure she’ll change her mind once she sets foot on American soil again, compliments of you.”

Noah shook his head. “You don’t understand. You can’t tell her I sent you.”

“What do you want me to—”

“If you tell her I sent you, she’ll find her own way home as soon as you get her out of Afghanistan. I know her. She won’t stay with you.”

“What am I supposed to say to her? I can’t tell her who I am, either.” What he did for his government privately had to stay private. No official could admit to asking him to do the things he did in the name of the United States. He couldn’t risk telling Noah’s daughter anything, especially knowing she was estranged from her father. And then there was the media hype to consider.

“Tell her whatever you want,” Noah said. “Hell, lie to her if you have to. Just get her to me. I’ll explain everything to her then.”

What was that? Had she imagined the sound? Sabine felt every heartbeat in her chest as she lifted her head from where her aching body lay curled on a hard cement floor. She tried to see across the small cell that had been her prison for more than two weeks. Blackness stared back at her. None of this was real, was it? So much horror couldn’t be real.

The rapid staccato of a man shouting something in Farsi convinced her well enough that she wasn’t dreaming. She pushed herself to a sitting position, her body trembling from lack of water and food and, more than anything, from fear, as she scooted to the wall behind her, away from the door. Strands of her long, dirty red hair hung in front of her face, shivering with the tremors that rippled through her.

The door creaked open and one of her captors stepped in, holding a paraffin lamp. Beady eyes leered at her above an unkempt, hairy face. The others called him Asad. He wasn’t their leader, but he frightened her nearly as much.

Glancing behind him, he closed the door. Sabine pressed her back harder against the cement wall as he approached, wishing it would miraculously give way and provide an escape.

Asad crouched close to her and put the lamp down beside him. He reached to touch her hair. Many of the other men seemed taken with the color, too.

Had Asad managed to slip away tonight? His presence this late and the look in his dark eyes said as much. Where was Isma’il? Would he stop him as he had all the other times?

She pulled away from Asad’s hand and scrambled along the wall until the corner stopped her.

Anger brought Asad’s brow crowding together. “Move when you are told,” he said in Farsi.

If she lived, Sabine promised herself she’d never speak the language again and forget she’d ever studied it in college.

Standing, Asad stepped toward her and crouched in front of her again. She turned her face toward the wall and squeezed her eyes shut as he took strands of her hair between his fingers. “I will know this fire,” he murmured, making her stomach churn.

“I’d rather die,” she whispered in perfect Farsi, a soft hiss of defiance that belied her weakened state.

He let go of her hair but pulled back his hand for momentum and swung down to strike her face. Sabine grunted with the force of the blow, her head hitting the wall and one hand slapping the floor to stop her fall. She spit blood.

Voices outside the door of her cell made Asad pivot in his crouched position. He watched the door. When it began to open, he straightened.

“Isma’il is asking for you,” a man said through the shadows.

Asad muttered an expletive and turned to look down at Sabine. Whatever he’d come to do to her tonight had once again been thwarted. She watched his anger flare with the snarl of his mouth. “The day will come when Isma’il will not interfere,” he said. “And then you will die just as your friend did.” With that, he picked up the lamp and turned to leave.

A shaky breath of relief whooshed out of her. Why was Isma’il protecting her? Terrorists would have no regard for a female captive. But who were they, if not terrorists? Were they holding her for ransom? Had they contacted Aden? Was he trying to save his contractors? Perhaps he’d lost some ground and that was why Samuel had been killed. She had no way of knowing. Her captors never spoke of their purpose in front of her and Samuel.

Samuel. She couldn’t grasp that he was dead. They’d tortured and killed him. And they’d do the same to her. It was only a question of when.

Her soft, defeated sobs resonated against the cement walls that trapped her in this hellish place. She didn’t want to die like this. Curling her body on the cement again, she stared through the darkness, trying to think of something to console her spirit. Fuel her strength.

Thoughts of her mother were too painful. She couldn’t reconcile the difference between this place and the quiet innocence of Roaring Creek, Colorado, where her mother had raised her. Mae O’Clery was as much a best friend as she was a mother. When Mae told her this contracting job wasn’t her calling, that she was doing it only to catch her father’s attention, she should have listened. That arrowing insight had annoyed her at the time. But now, after being kidnapped and facing a horrific death, she could see the truth.

Unrelenting. That’s how she had been when she’d gone after her college degree, and that’s how she was in pursuing her career. Nothing had stopped her from proving to the world that she was … what? Tough? Smart? That she was worthy of envy and respect? She didn’t like to admit that her relationship with her father had driven her to this moment, but it had. Amazing how his occasional visits to her mother had bled over into every aspect of her life. She wasn’t good enough just the way she was. She had to try harder. Always harder.

A sound outside the door made her stiffen, lift her head. Had Isma’il sent for her? Was tonight her time to die?

Her heart beat so fast it made her sick. A hissing noise followed by a sort of zap sent a burst of light through spaces in the door frame.

Surely her mind was playing tricks on her. Wouldn’t her captors use a key? Why was someone using strange explosives on the door?

The door swung open. A tall figure appeared. Silhouetted by meager light in the doorway, the man stood with an automatic weapon ready to fire. The folds of his black clothes and body armor encased a powerful body that was at least twice the size of any of her captors’. He turned first to his left, then scanned the room until he saw her.

Her heart felt like it skipped several beats as she watched him turn to look over his shoulder and make quick, firm gestures with his hand, holding the automatic rifle with the other. Slinging a strap over his shoulder, he hung the rifle against his back and approached.

Sabine wavered between elation and fear. Dare she hope this man had come to free her?

The tall man knelt in front of her, a small scope attached to his helmet and positioned in front of one eye. She guessed it was some sort of night-vision device. He was laden with other gear, too. A pistol strapped to his waist. Straps around his thighs from his parachute. A wide, dark backpack and several bulky pockets gave the appearance of size. Not that he was small; he had to be at least six-five and was no rail of a man.

“Are you injured?” he asked, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She jerked away from his touch, so conditioned to fear that the reaction was automatic.

He pulled his hand up as though in surrender. “I’m from the United States. I’m going to get you out of here. Do you understand?”

English. Her brain swirled in reverse and forward and sideways. He spoke English. And not just any English. He had a distinctive Western swagger to his vowels, strong and confident, marking him a wholly, one-hundred-percent, proud-to-be-American man. She couldn’t let herself believe it, yet she felt her head nod twice.

“Where is Samuel Barry?” he asked.

Reminded of Samuel’s death, the swell of tears renewed in her throat. “I … I’m the only one left.”

The tall man’s only reaction was the grim set of his mouth as he flipped another device down from his helmet.

“I’ve got the package. There’s only one,” he said into the small radio that arched in front of his mouth. “Have you found anything?”

“We’re searching, sir,” a voice came across the radio, barely audible. “So far nothing’s turned up.”

“Set the explosives and keep looking. Kill anything that moves.”

“Roger that.”

The tall man flipped the radio back against his helmet. There was nothing emotional about him. He was focused on his purpose, and right now that seemed to be getting her out of there.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

She didn’t know and he didn’t wait for an answer. He helped her to her feet with one arm around her back. She welcomed his strength as he supported her to the door. There, he leaned her against the wall beside the opening. She heard sounds outside. Something moving in the street.

Had her rescue been discovered?

“Don’t move,” the tall man said, his eye gleaming through the shadows, the other concealed behind the night-vision device.

Sabine didn’t think she could move if she tried, she was so weak. Her legs were already trembling with the effort to keep her upright.

Pulling his weapon from his shoulder, the tall man peered outside. He had wide cheekbones and a prominent brow that gave his intense eyes a fearsome set. She didn’t know how much time passed before she heard the sound of footfalls. The tall man made hand gestures through the open door, then shrugged his weapon back over his shoulder. He bent to lift Sabine, his arms under and behind her.

She looked over his shoulder as he carried her through the door of the small, six-by-six concrete cell that had been her home for so long. A crippling wave of remorse consumed her. She was leaving without Samuel. His wife. What would it do to her when she found out about her husband? Sabine squeezed her eyes shut to a grief that would stay with her always.

Outside the door the tall man joined two other men dressed like him. Aiming their weapons, the other men flanked the tall man as he carried her into the street. Two bodies were sprawled on the ground near the door of the concrete cell. She hoped one of them was Asad.

“Find anything?” the tall man asked.

“Negative.”

“Detonate when we reach the Mi-8.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

The two other men swung their weapons on either side of the tall man as they moved across the street.

Shouts erupted behind them. The tall man ran faster while his partners turned and jogged backward, aiming their weapons and firing. Over the tall man’s shoulder, she saw three figures drop in the distance, lifeless shadows in the night.

The tall man slowed his pace as he carried her through an alley. One of his partners moved ahead and the other fell back. They emerged onto another street. Bombed-out buildings and burned shells of vehicles echoed a violent tale of the past.

The woof, woof of a helicopter sounded in the distance. The bombed-out buildings thinned as they came to the outskirts of the deserted village where her captors had taken her and Samuel. Sabine could make out the dark shape of a helicopter just ahead of them.

One of the tall man’s partners jumped into the helicopter. The tall man handed her over to him. He swooped her through a narrow door and inside the pod, and she found herself lowered onto a toboggan-like stretcher. The interior of the helicopter had no seats, but the exposed metal walls contained small round windows. It was dim inside.

Sabine kept her gaze fixed on the tall man. He stood to one side of the opening as the helicopter lifted into the air. One of his partners knelt beside him. Both aimed their guns at the ground. The man kneeling depressed a remote of some sort. What she could see of the night sky lit up, and the sound of a giant explosion followed. Something pricked her arm.

Sabine looked up at the man kneeling beside her. In the light of the fire, she could see his brown hair and blue eyes. He smiled at her while he inserted the IV.

“You’re goin’ to be okay now,” he said with a rich Southern drawl.

God bless America, she thought.

Gunshots made her grip the sides of the stretcher. Bullets sprayed the helicopter, and it dipped. It felt like something vital had been hit. Some of her captors must have survived and discovered her escape.

The man who’d inserted her IV scrambled to the cockpit.

“We’re in big trouble if this thing goes down!” the pilot shouted, barely audible over the noise of the rotor.

The helicopter swayed and rattled amidst rounds of machine-gun fire.

“I can’t go back there.” Sabine struggled to raise her body. She crawled on her hands and knees toward the open door of the helicopter, heedless of the IV that ripped free of her arm and the sting of her raw shins, where her captors had beaten her the most. She searched for a weapon and spotted the pistol in the tall man’s holster. When she reached for it, he put his hand around her wrist and stopped her.

“They’re out of range now,” he told her, one knee on the floor. “And you’re not going back there.”

Realizing the sound of gunfire had ceased, Sabine sagged at his words, falling flat onto her stomach with her forehead to the metal floor of the helicopter. Sobs came unbidden. They shook her shoulders and made her gasp for air. Relief. Gratitude. A cacophony of emotion too strong to subdue.

The tall man put his automatic rifle aside. She heard it settle on the floor of the helicopter. Sitting down, he reached for her. She let him pull her onto his lap, the promise of kindness from another human being too great to resist. Air from the opening at her back blew through her hair. She dug her fingers into the sturdy material of the tall man’s body armor, resting her head on his shoulder until her tears quieted.

With a shuddering breath, Sabine inhaled the oily smell of the helicopter, the smell of freedom. Comfort she hadn’t felt in weeks washed through her deprived soul. She wanted to stay close to the man who held her so warmly, his hand slowly moving over her back. He cradled her thighs with one arm, his hand pressed over her hip to hold her on his lap.

Sabine leaned back. Gray eyes fringed by thick, dark lashes looked down at her beneath the edge of his black helmet. He’d moved the night-vision device out of the way. There was sympathy in his eyes but something else, a hovering alertness, a readiness for combat. Her awareness of him grew. Those gray eyes.

His black hair sprouted from beneath the helmet, and she noticed for the first time that it hung low on the back of his neck. A few strands tickled the top of her hand. Lines bracketed each side of his mouth, his lips soft and full but unmoving. His jaw was broad and strong and covered with stubble.

“What’s your name?” she asked, wanting to think of him as something other than a tall man.

“You can call me Rudy,” he answered after a slight hesitation.

The sound of more gunfire made Sabine look through the door into the night sky. She spotted another helicopter firing at them. Rudy tossed her off his lap at the same instant bullets struck metal. She landed on her rear in a pile of gear and packs in the back of the helicopter. Rudy grabbed his weapon and fired alongside one of his teammates.

“What the—” the man beside Rudy was cut short when a bullet put a hole in his forehead. He fell forward, out of the helicopter. It happened quickly, but Sabine knew violence like this all too well. The helpless sorrow swimming through her was familiar, something that had clung to her through her captivity.

Rudy fired his weapon again. Explosions of answering gunfire throttled along with the roar of rotor and blades. Bullets struck the helicopter’s interior, plugging holes in the stretcher where Sabine had lain. She covered her head and buried herself among the gear as much as she could, moaning. Exhaustion did nothing to dull the sickening fear that had been her constant companion for so long.

Then the flurry of gunfire died. Sabine lifted her head. Rudy crouched, ready for battle.

“Who the hell was that?” the Southern man asked from his seat in the cockpit.

The helicopter sputtered and lost elevation with a severe plunge.

The pilot cursed.

“What’s our position?” Rudy demanded.

The pilot shouted back coordinates.

“Can you make it to the airstrip?”

“Maybe.” The helicopter sputtered more. The pilot shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Sabine looked at Rudy. He glanced her way, and she saw his confusion. He hadn’t expected to be attacked after lifting off the ground. The gunfire from the ground had been from what was left of her captors, but who had fired at them from the other helicopter?

“We’re going down, we’re going down!” the pilot yelled.

“No,” Sabine breathed.

Rudy pushed away from the opening. Tossing his weapon aside, he landed on Sabine with the agility of a cat as the helicopter began to smoke and spin.

## Chapter 2

Sabine screamed as the helicopter careened toward the ground. She could feel the pilot trying to keep the machine airborne. The roar was deafening. Debris flew through the pod. If it weren’t for Rudy holding her, she’d have gone flying, too. But even he couldn’t withstand the force of the crash. When they hit, she felt the jarring impact and knew her body had smashed against something hard, but she blacked out an instant later.

She regained consciousness to the smell of smoke and stillness. Flickers of fire alarmed her. She didn’t know how long she’d been out. She didn’t think it was longer than seconds or minutes.

Someone stirred beside her. She looked to see Rudy climb to his feet. He scanned the rest of the helicopter. The cockpit was barely visible through darkness and smoke and the tangle of metal.

“Comet!” Rudy shouted. “Blitz!”

There was no answer.

Sabine ignored the searing pain that sliced through her already bruised body and rose to her hands and knees. Rudy hefted a rucksack over his shoulder and stepped over scattered debris on his way to her. She grabbed his arm and used it as a tether to pull herself up. Instead of helping her walk out of the helicopter, Rudy bent and draped her over his big shoulder like a sack of dog food. She withheld groans of agony the pressure against her ribs caused.

Rudy hurried out of the helicopter. When he was far enough away, he lowered her to the ground. She sat on her rear—more like collapsed—and watched him drop the rucksack and jog back toward the helicopter for the other two.

An explosion flipped him onto his back. Sabine cringed and twisted away from the violent flames and rumbling blast. She rolled onto her side and covered her head as debris dropped from the air. A brief moment later, she pushed herself up by one hand and gaped at the inferno. Were the men still in there? They were, but she couldn’t bring herself to face it. She crawled toward the helicopter, half sobbing, too numb to process everything all at once. She only knew she couldn’t leave the men in that helicopter after they just saved her life.

She got as far as Rudy, who swung his arm out like an iron bar and stopped her. His face was stark with shock and maybe a few signs of grief. She didn’t know him enough to read his emotions, but losing what must be his team had to be shattering.

Slowly, he turned his head. His eyes went from disbelieving to expressionless to angry before he eventually covered that, too. Gripping her arm just above her elbow, he hauled her to her feet, swinging the rucksack over his other shoulder. “We have to get out of here.”

Sabine strained to see the burning helicopter. “Are we going to—”

“They’re dead,” he cut her off.

Tears pushed into her eyes. “Oh—my God … I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond, just pulled her along. With a will of iron that had seen her through two weeks of unimaginable suffering, she forced her tears away. She stumbled and fell against Rudy, nearly falling. Her legs wouldn’t support her very much longer. She was amazed she could walk at all.

Rudy muttered a curse and hefted her over his shoulder again. She bit her lip against the stab of pain in her ribs. The glowing orb of the helicopter disappeared from view as Rudy walked. His strides grew monotonous. She had no concept of passing time.

When Rudy finally eased her from his shoulder, she groaned as she lay on the ground. Her entire body throbbed. She tried not to vent her discomfort with audible sounds. Rudy had enough to worry about. And she wanted him to get her out of there.

She saw him dig into his rucksack and pull out a handheld radio. He lifted it to his mouth and depressed a button with his thumb.

“Dasher, this is Rudy. Do you read?”

The names he’d called his teammates penetrated her awareness. Comet. Blitz. Was that short for Blitzen? Now Dasher. Was Rudy short for Rudolf? Was that his code name?

“Dasher, come in.” There was a short crackling noise followed by nothing.

Rudy wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

The radio crackled. “Rudy, this is Dasher. I read you. What happened? Over.” The radio crackled again.

“I’m going to set a flare. You have to get here before anyone else finds us. Over.”

“I don’t see any movement near the crash sight. I’ll find you. Over.”

“Hurry.” Rudy tossed the radio into the rucksack and dug for something else. He stood when he found the flare and moved away from Sabine a few steps. He was efficient and fast with his hands as he lit the flare and sent it into the night sky.

Sabine watched the flare illuminate the landscape. She could see nothing that suggested anyone was after them, but she rubbed her arms anyway, afraid of the possibility, so afraid. She would not survive if she had to face more torture. Not after tasting freedom again.

Her gaze shifted to Rudy. He stood with his feet slightly parted, searching the landscape. Only then did she notice he held a pistol at his side.

The sound of a helicopter broke the silence. Rudy tipped his head back and closed his eyes. She felt his relief, and it sparked hope along with a fresh threat of tears. Were they really going to make it?

The helicopter neared. Soon it tossed up dirt as it landed and Rudy helped her to her feet, carrying the rucksack in his other hand. She leaned against him as they made their way to the helicopter, Rudy bearing most of her weight. He boosted her inside and she crawled into the pod. Leaning against the far side, she watched Rudy climb in as the helicopter lifted into the air.

He lay on his back and draped his arm over his forehead, his massive chest rising and falling from more than exertion. Sabine knew he was thinking of his men. Remorse overwhelmed her. It was so unfair.

She folded her arm over her ribs, wishing the pain would ease. She closed her eyes to ride it through. Hearing movement, she opened her eyes and saw Rudy rolling to his hands and knees. He stood and crossed the small space of the helicopter.

Crouching before her, he asked, “How badly are you hurt?”

He must have noticed her holding her ribs. “I’ll be all right.” As long as she was away from those terrible men, she was fine.

Rudy pulled her arm away from her body. “Is anything broken?”

“I don’t think so.” She had her big-boned grandfather on her mother’s side to thank for that. She’d never met her grandparents on her father’s side. “Except maybe my ribs.” Her injuries would fade. It was what she’d witnessed that would haunt her the rest of her life. The memory of Samuel.

She winced when he tested her ribs with his hands, unable to suppress a moan.

The furrow between his eyebrows deepened, and he pulled her T-shirt up to her breasts in a purely clinical maneuver. Only the tightening of his mouth revealed anything of his reaction to the expanse of bruises on her torso.

“Did your captors want anything specific?” he asked. “Did you hear any of them talk?”

“We never were told why we were being held,” she breathed through the sharp throbs in her ribs.

Dropping her shirt, Rudy stood and moved away.

She watched him reach into the rucksack and pull out a canteen. Wordlessly, he handed it to her along with two pills. She studied him as she took the pills and popped them into her mouth. Next, she took the canteen and lifted it to her mouth with an unsteady hand. He seemed to notice and crouched in front of her again. His hand covered hers as he helped her hold the canteen. She met his eyes while she drank, the striking gray of them momentarily capturing her. He didn’t have his helmet on anymore, and she realized she didn’t remember when he’d removed it. He had thick, dark hair. Something about it struck her as odd. Didn’t military men have close-cropped hair?

She wiped her mouth after she finished drinking, and he took the canteen from her.

“Who would want to keep you from leaving this place?” he asked.

The question gave her a jolt. Did he wonder if it could be someone other than her kidnappers? “I don’t know.”

“Someone must have. And it wasn’t your captors.”

She took a moment to absorb that. If not her captors, who would want her to die like that? Had they known she and Samuel were being held? And done nothing? Everything inside her rebelled against the idea. It was too awful.

“That helicopter wasn’t in any of the images I saw,” Rudy continued, his mouth a tight line of anger. “They knew we were coming.” And that missing piece of information had cost him three good men.

Who would go to such lengths to see her and Samuel dead? She didn’t have any enemies like that. Her father, but he had no reason to want her brutally killed. And if anyone had the means to orchestrate her rescue, it was he. She glanced at Rudy’s longish hair.

“Who sent you here?” she asked more briskly than she intended. “Who are you?”

His anger disappeared behind a guarded mask. He unfolded his legs to stand. “I’m bringing you home. That’s all you need to know.”

“Was it my father?” she asked anyway.

“No.” He turned away and went toward the cockpit of the helicopter, ending any further questioning.

Dust billowed into the air and the whine of engines drowned any other sound. Sabine hooked her arm over Rudy’s shoulder as he carried her to a waiting plane. The airstrip was crude and deserted. The plane was painted white with a horizontal blue stripe and no other markings. Rudy climbed some steps and took her inside. There were no seats and darkness filled the row of windows. He put her down and she sat on the floor, leaning against another metal-sided wall.

Rudy turned to speak to Dasher, who was apparently an accomplished pilot, since not only had he flown the helicopter, but also he was going to fly this plane out of Afghanistan. For the first time in two weeks, she felt her shoulders sag in relief. Soon she’d be home.

Home. That seemed like a foreign place to her now, where everything was normal. She felt anything but normal. She didn’t know the woman who’d survived what she had. How was she going to move on as though none of this had ever happened?

Samuel would never go home. He’d never see his wife again. The last conversation she’d had with him would stay with her always.

In the darkness of their cell, they’d talked well into the night. Sleep had been patchy and filled with nightmarish dreams. Like every other night.

Sabine had learned a lot about Samuel in the weeks they’d been held captive. He was steady and family oriented. He loved his wife to the depths of his soul and hated the time he had to be away from her; he wanted to build a house for her and the kids they’d planned to have. It was the reason he’d taken the contracting job.

Dasher headed for the cockpit. Once again, she was alone with the man who’d rescued her.

Rudy closed the door and the whine of the plane’s engines increased. He sat at her feet on the floor, leaning against the adjacent wall that divided this compartment from the rear of the plane. With his eyes half closed and his hands resting comfortably in his lap, he had an outward appearance of calm. Hovering alertness. Physical strength at rest but ready to move. And clever gray eyes. He was a dangerous man.

Her father wouldn’t have sent any other kind.

Sabine didn’t want to believe her father had sent Rudy. She didn’t want to owe a man like Noah Page for something as precious as her life, especially after almost losing it because of him. All those years she’d wasted striving to prove she was worthy of his respect had gotten her nowhere. It made her sick to think she’d allowed him to influence her like that, to know that, at least on a subliminal level, she wanted his recognition.

She closed her eyes. No. Her father hadn’t sent Rudy. This was a military operation. It had to be. Rudy didn’t want to reveal his identity because of the nature of his covert operations and the press her rescue would shake up once word got out that she was on her way home.

Exhaustion overpowered her worry, and she lay on the floor. She woke briefly when they landed for a fuel stop, then again when she felt the plane begin its descent for another. Moments later the tires touched the ground.

The plane slowed until it stopped. Like the last time they’d refueled, the pilot left the plane while Rudy watched from the doorway.

“Where are we?” Sabine asked.

“An airstrip in Egypt,” he said without looking at her.

Then his body went rigid as he peered through the door. Sabine pushed herself up to sit.

He looked at her over his shoulder. “Wait here.” Then he leaped from the plane.

Sabine crawled to her feet. The crack of gunfire sent her heart skipping faster. Someone was shooting at them again. Who? More gunshots exploded.

She stumbled toward the doorway, searching the plane for a weapon on her way. Seeing Rudy’s pistol sticking out of his pack, she slipped it free and leaned against the wall of the plane next to the door, breathing hard from exertion and fear. Peering outside, she spotted Rudy running back toward the plane, a man chasing him with a gun. In the distance, she could see a body lying on the dirt runway.

Forcing her fear down, Sabine lifted the pistol, aimed and fired. The man chasing Rudy dove for the ground, dirt spitting near his feet. Another man appeared in her view and fired at Rudy. She covered him as best she could, until he leaped into the plane, bumping her shoulder on his way. She stumbled as he slammed the door shut, then pounded it once with his fist.

Bullets hit the door. Sabine jumped back at the loud sound.

He turned and she saw the anger in his eyes before he hurried to the cockpit, his strides long and his feet thudding hard on the metal floor.

She followed, jumping again as bullets hit the plane once more. “Where’s Dasher?”

“Dead.” Rudy sat in the pilot’s seat and worked controls, his face tight with fiery emotion. “They were waiting for us.”

Again. How could it have happened again? Who didn’t want her to escape her captors?

Sabine clumsily fell into the copilot’s seat and fastened the shoulder harness. Darkness stared back at her through the window of the cockpit. The plane rolled down the dirt runway, picking up speed. The sound of bullets hitting metal faded. The plane lifted off the ground.

“Who keeps coming after us?” Who had fired at them in the helicopter, and who was firing at them now?

Rudy didn’t answer, his face intense and focused on flying the plane. She let him for a while.

Looking out the window to her side, she saw only darkness. “Where are we going?”

“We have to get to Athens.”

She turned her head toward him. “Do we have enough fuel?”

“Probably not,” he said, still looking straight ahead and at the controls.

“But … don’t we have to fly over the Mediterranean to get to Athens?”

“Yes. And we have to fly low.”

Staring through the dark front window, she took several calming breaths. “We’re going to die.”

Rudy turned his head toward her, his eyes fierce with determination. “Not if I can help it.”

As much as she’d have loved to fall into the warmth his energy stirred, Sabine gripped the armrests of her seat and remained tense.

He must have noticed because he said, “There are lots of islands off the coast of Greece. We’ll find one and land there if we have to.”

Did he actually think they’d find a lovely Greek island and have a nice little landing as if they’d planned it all along? She sat with tight, aching muscles for long, unbearable minutes. Each second felt like her last. At any moment the plane would roar down to the water and it would be over.

“We’re getting close,” Rudy said at last.

“Really?” She couldn’t let herself believe it.

The plane gave her a jolt. The engines cut then roared to life. Cut. Roared.

Her heart thudded sickly in her chest. A lump of fear lodged in her throat.

They were running out of fuel!

“I think I see something,” Rudy said.

Sabine strained to see through the night but saw nothing. Was he hallucinating in the face of death? The plane lost elevation as it sputtered along. She gripped the armrests tighter. They were going down. She didn’t think she was lucky enough to survive two crashes in one day.

“Do you see it?” Rudy asked. He sounded excited.

She turned to look at him. How could he be enjoying this? He glanced at her and smiled, then jerked his head toward the front of the plane.

Sabine looked there and searched once again for something in the distance. She saw faint lights and panic spiraled out of control.

“We’ll never make it!” It was too far.

“We’ll make it,” he assured her. “All we have to do now is find a place to set this thing down.”

“Don’t you mean crash it?”

The plane’s engines cut and this time died altogether. Rudy guided the plane toward the lights. They were losing elevation fast. Lower. Lower. She could see the surface of the water now. Oh God, they were going to hit!

Instead, the plane whizzed by a rocky shoreline. The shape of a rooftop was next. One of the wings clipped the top of a tree. Rudy tilted the aircraft to one side to avoid another tree, then leveled it as a gently sloping hill appeared below them.

“This is as good as it’s going to get.”

Sabine squeezed her eyes shut and screamed as the plane struck the ground and bounced and rattled and shook. Her body jerked forward as Rudy worked to bring them to a stop. Loud thunks beneath the plane were the only clue to the kind of terrain they’d landed on. A tree branch smacked Sabine’s side of the plane and cracked the front window. The plane slowed. Ahead, she saw the side of a mountain growing larger through the cracked window. The plane slowed to a safer speed but not enough to avoid impact. The crash threw her forward, but the shoulder harness held her body in place. Then she blacked out.

Moaning, she came to and looked around. Rudy was yanking off his harness. He scrambled out of his seat, crouched beside her and held her face in his hand, breathing fast as he inspected her.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded dizzily. “I think so.”

He reached for her lap and unfastened her harness. “We have to get out of here and destroy this plane before anyone finds us.”

Wasn’t it already destroyed enough? She used his sturdy body as leverage and climbed to her feet. Wobbling, she leaned against the side of the plane and waited while he hurried to gather what gear they might need. After he threw a rucksack outside, he helped her through the door. She waited for him there while he set an explosive.

Hooking the rucksack over one arm, he took her hand. “Come on.” He led her down the hill, away from the plane.

Sabine stumbled and gripped Rudy’s T-shirt to steady herself. When he slowed to a stop, she fell against him.

He dropped the rucksack and put his arm around her. Pulling a black device from his pocket, he depressed a button. A violent explosion followed. Sabine watched as the burning plane lit up the night and gave her a glimpse of rocky peaks surrounding the hilly earth where they had landed.

“Can you walk?”

She looked up at him and nodded, not really all that sure how long she could. But she didn’t want him to have to carry her anymore.

Rudy led her the rest of the way down the hill. An hour later, they hiked over a steeper hill. Sabine thought of them as hills because they were nothing like the mountains she grew up in. Southwestern Colorado was filled with fourteen-thousand-foot giants that made these look like foothills.

Her limbs were trembling by the time they crested the peak. Rudy stopped. Sabine hooked her arm with his as she had several times along the way and leaned against him, breathing hard and closing her eyes even though she saw lights at the bottom of the slope that relieved her immensely.

“It’s a village,” he said, and she heard relief that matched hers and something else. Incredulity at their fortune.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“I don’t know. One of the Greek islands.”

She turned to study his profile, unable to comprehend how she’d come from a small concrete cell awaiting a horrific death to something as magnificent as a Greek island.

Rudy began walking again, taking her support with him. She collapsed to her hands and knees. A very strange sensation. She had no control over the movement of her legs. Virtually all her strength had abandoned her. Combined with her throbbing and stinging body, she was finished. Her head pounded like lightning strikes with each pulse of her heartbeat.

Rudy cursed. Two strides brought him back to her. He lifted her into his arms, rucksack hanging from one arm, and carried her down the slope. He found a footpath and followed it.

“Don’t lie to me when I ask you a question.”

She looked up at his rugged face. “I didn’t lie.”

“You said you could walk.”

“I did walk.”

He looked down at her beneath a scowling brow.

“You didn’t ask how far. We’ve been walking a long time,” she said.

He didn’t respond but the scowl remained. Several minutes later they reached the main road going through the village. It was paved but it was the only one that was. No one moved in the street, but it was late at night.

A door opened in a building to their right. An older woman wearing a dark, embroidered dress spoke rapidly in a language Sabine didn’t understand. She looked at Rudy when he answered fluently in the same tongue.

He stopped walking and spoke to the woman awhile longer. The woman pointed up the street and spoke again.

Moments later Rudy carried Sabine to a white mortar building with neat rows of square windows lining the first and second floors. At the door, he put her down but kept his arm around her waist for support. She leaned against him while he opened the door, her legs shaking. Inside, a small sitting room with a single light burning on a simple desk illuminated walls covered with row after row of ornately painted plates. Rudy stepped inside with her and closed the door behind them. A short, thin man with dark hair and missing front teeth yawned as he emerged from a dining area, slipping into a robe.

Rudy deposited Sabine onto a chair and spoke to the man, whose name seemed to be Alec. They exchanged words until Rudy finally nodded and handed over a few American bills. Alec handed him a key, and Rudy turned and approached her. She would have protested as he lifted her, but she was so exhausted she didn’t think she’d make it three steps.

Their host watched but made no comment as Rudy climbed a narrow stairway. Down a hallway carpeted in a red mosaic pattern, Rudy stopped at a door and put her down on her feet. Her eyes felt heavy and she couldn’t wait to lie down on a real bed. Rudy wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her walk inside. Two twin beds on top of a raised platform were covered in white blankets. The walls were adorned with hand-carved lutes and lyres, unique musical instruments that gave a charming clue to the culture of the people here. It was simple but clean and inviting.

Sabine looked to her right and spotted a bathroom. A small sound escaped her. A private bathroom. She tentatively stepped away from Rudy’s sturdy support then stumbled toward it. Breathless, she leaned with her hands on the white pedestal sink and saw there was only a small shower. Standing would be a challenge, but she hadn’t bathed in two weeks. The thought of a shower charged her with energy she didn’t think she had. Determination to be clean fired through her.

Rudy peered into the bathroom, saw the shower with no tub and frowned. “Maybe we should just give you a sponge bath.”

Sabine shook her head. “I want a shower.”

He turned and met her gaze. Without arguing, he went back into the room and returned with some clothes.

“Leave the door open,” he said, and left.

She looked down at the clothes he’d dropped on the floor, wondering where he’d gotten them. Just a white T-shirt, dark blue lounge pants, and underwear, but it would be divine to get out of the clothes she’d been wearing for so long.

“You can sleep in this if you want.”

Sabine took the bigger T-shirt he held, watching him go back into the room. He sat in a chair across from the bathroom where he could still see her.

Gripping the edge of the sink with one hand, she pushed the bathroom door with the other until it blocked his view of her, then undressed. She hoped her legs would hold her long enough to get clean. Rudy carrying her the rest of the way to the village had helped some, but what she really needed was rest. Turning on the faucet, she waited for the water to warm before she stepped inside.

Water showered over her head and caressed her battered body. Sabine closed her eyes and moaned. Standing, however, made her legs shake uncontrollably and water trickled into the open wounds on her shins, stinging her. She braced her hands against the shower wall but didn’t think it would be enough to keep her upright. When she tried to turn in the shower, her knees gave and she collapsed. Sitting on her hip with her hands flat in front of her, she hung her head and let the water spray fall on her.

Hearing a curse, she looked up to find Rudy holding the shower curtain aside, his mouth in a hard line and his eyes fierce with something more than concern.

## Chapter 3

Sabine’s pulse jumped faster when Rudy stepped fully dressed into the shower. He leaned down and put his hands under her arms, lifting her easily. She didn’t want to see in his eyes the purely instinctual male response to holding a naked woman, so she stood there staring at his broad chest, where her hands were spread.

Anchoring her around her waist, he reached for a small container of shampoo and put some on her head. Sabine wearily lifted her hands and began to wash her hair. Her breath came harder with the effort, but it felt so delicious she closed her eyes and let her head fall back a bit, bringing it more under the spray. She tried not to think about Rudy watching her.

His wet T-shirt heightened her awareness of her body against him. Hard muscle compressed her soft breasts. After she rinsed her hair, he reached behind her and retrieved a bar of soap. Readjusting his hold to support her with one of his powerful arms, he began to wash her back. It felt too good to stop him. She let her head fall to his wet T-shirt-covered chest.

“Turn around.”

He sounded raspy. Sabine lifted her head and found her eyes trapped by his unreadable ones. She moved her legs but wouldn’t have been able to turn on her own without falling. Now with her back against him, she took the bar of soap and moved it over her skin. She lost herself to the pleasure of feeling clean again. When she finished, she was shaking and short of breath.

Shutting off the water, Rudy lifted her dripping wet in his arms. Sabine pulled a towel from a rack above the toilet when he stopped there and held it to her body as he carried her out of the bathroom. In the other room, he sat in the chair and draped her legs over his. Sabine dried herself on his lap.

“Lean forward,” he said, taking the towel from her.

She did and froze. Beneath her, a hard ridge told her just how much the shower had affected him. Seeming not to notice her sudden change, he wrapped her hair in the towel. Then he cradled her, stood and put her back onto the chair, by herself.

Slumping against the chair, she watched him go into the bathroom for the big T-shirt and return. His expression was stern as he gripped the shirt in his hands and pulled it over her towel-covered head. A couple of unceremonious yanks, and the top fell down over her body.

“Thank you,” she murmured, glad to be covered again.

He said nothing in response and just lifted her and took her to one of the twin beds, where he’d already pulled the covers down. Before covering her with those, he opened the rucksack and pulled out a roll of bandages and a tube of ointment.

Propped by two fluffy pillows, she shut her eyes and bit her lower lip to keep from crying out when the ointment touched the raw flesh of her shins. Her fingers gripped the sheet and blankets while he wrapped her legs. When he finished, her legs were throbbing so much her mind swam with pain and dizziness.

“I’m sorry,” Rudy said.

She couldn’t respond with more than a single nod.

He left her and went into the bathroom with the rucksack. When he returned, he was shirtless and in a pair of lounge pants. Sabine caught his profile as he passed the bed and couldn’t look away from his broad back. Hard muscles tapered to a trim, fit waist. His butt was tight and perfectly shaped. She held her breath when he leaned over the table and retrieved a bottle of water. Opening it, he faced her and sat on one of the chairs with a long sigh. Lifting the bottle of water he held, he drained half its contents. Sabine forgot the stinging pain in her legs. Smooth skin and a light covering of hair followed the rippling muscles of his chest and abdomen. He sat with his knees spread and his big body slouched lazily in the chair. It gave her a shock to notice him like this, a man with overpowering masculinity that appealed to her on a level she had never experienced.

He lowered the bottle and she stared at his big hand. His other hand lay over the opposite arm of the chair. Those hands had touched her in the shower. Heat began to stir in her. She raised her eyes. He watched her. There was something erotic in his gaze. Leashed interest. Maybe even unwanted desire.

The first shiver of something other than fear raised bumps on her arms. She was alone with him on a Greek island. What would tomorrow be like, she wondered, waking to the Aegean Sea and this mysterious man who’d saved her life?

Cullen sipped a cup of strong Greek coffee and looked out across the turquoise waters of the Aegean Sea. Of all the places to crash-land a DeHavilland, this had to be the best. Under any other circumstances, he’d have enjoyed it. He’d known this rescue would be among the most dangerous he’d ever done, and he’d taken as few men as he could to avoid risking more lives than necessary, but no one should have died. That helicopter had been waiting for them. Anger simmered close to a boil inside him. Only someone close to Noah could have leaked their plans.

He’d give Noah every resource he had to find out who and why, and whoever was responsible would pay with their lives.

Hearing a sound, he glanced at the door of the room. He couldn’t see her but knew Sabine had moved on the bed. She’d slept on and off for two days now. He’d decided to let her and had only disturbed her to make sure she drank water and ate and had clean bandages. Letting her sleep this long made him nervous, but it would be better if she could board a commercial plane without drawing too much attention. If he had to carry her, she’d attract attention.

“Hello up there,” a woman called in Dorian Greek from below the balcony.

Cullen dropped his feet from the railing and leaned forward to see her better, sending her an answering smile. It was the same woman who’d told him where to find this pension and an available room to rent. Today she wore a white embroidered dress with gold coins draped around her neck. She was a nice enough lady, but she was way too curious about him and Sabine. All it would take was an awestruck villager like her to pick up the phone and talk to the press. The thought nearly made him break into a cold sweat. All he needed was the media to catch up to them.

The woman lifted a basket. “Makarounes for you and your lady.”

He kept his smile in place as he straightened. “I’ll come down.”

He turned before she could respond and moved through the room, checking on Sabine before he left her still sleeping. He made his way to the lower level. The pension owner, Alec, looked up and smiled with a nod.

“Good morning,” Cullen said in Greek, and Alec answered in kind.

The wrinkled woman stood outside the door of the pension and smiled when he appeared in the doorway. She extended the basket, its contents wrapped in a red cloth. He took it from her.

“Thank you,” he said.

She nodded graciously. “You must bring your lady to my taverna when she is rested. We have fresh seafood every night, and it is very quiet.” Her dark eyes held a secretive glint.

The notion of having a romantic dinner with Sabine tantalized him too much for his comfort. “We just might have to take you up on that,” he said anyway.

“Alec told me about your crash, and that you were on your honeymoon. You come. Have dinner at my taverna.” She told him where it was.

Cullen said nothing. She was just an old woman swept up by the intrigue of a plane crash and the couple who’d survived it. Alec had questioned Cullen on the crashed airplane, and Cullen had come up with the quickest explanation he could think of without revealing his and Sabine’s identities. They’d come to Greece on their honeymoon and crashed before they’d reached Athens.

The woman waved and turned to go. Cullen squinted as he leaned his head out the door and caught rays of sunlight, watching her walk down the narrow street.

He wasn’t sure why being known as a newlywed bothered him. Maybe it was the shower, and Sabine’s determination to see it done. The woman had grit. She also had a body made for his hands and eyes that beckoned with green fire. She flared an instinctual response in him. The degree of his interest made him nervous. He liked his relationships comfortable, not out of control. He didn’t need that kind of intensity with a woman. His job gave him plenty of that. If he ever got married, it’d be to Mrs. Compatible and Good in Bed, not Mrs. Take My Heart and Twist It into a Pretzel of Agonizing Love. He’d seen what that could do to a man.

Back in the room, Sabine was as he’d left her, rumpled covers enveloping her, red hair tangled over the pillow. She looked very snug and content. He didn’t want to explore the other “verys” he thought she was. Knew she was, now that he’d seen her naked.

Taking the basket out to the balcony, he set it on the table. At almost eleven, it was close to lunch.

An hour passed before he heard the sound of Sabine stirring inside the room again. He listened to the toilet flush, and moments later her bare feet trudged toward the balcony. He started to rise to help her but stopped when he saw that she was moving all right on her own, limping but all right. The T-shirt fell to just above her knees, exposing the bandages he’d wrapped around her tender shins. Her legs were skinny but spectacular. He bet they’d look even better once she healed and put on some weight. Just like the rest of her.

Cullen raised his gaze to her face as she looked across the Aegean Sea. Her mouth was slightly parted and her green eyes were the brightest he’d seen them since getting her out of Afghanistan. Their whites were healthy and the green color sparkled in the Mediterranean sunlight. The swelling on her lip had gone down, and the cut on her cheek was healing, though bruises still colored her skin and would for a while. She’d used the comb he’d bought in the village. Her hair was naturally curly, but it looked like soft, woven silk and fell to the top of her breasts. Even skinny, she was an extremely beautiful woman. All Irish with smooth, pale skin and striking features. Especially her eyes.

“Where are we?” she asked without looking at him.

He was glad she hadn’t noticed his scrutiny. “A village called Olympos. The north end of Kárpathos. It’s near Crete.”

“Wow.”

Cullen had experienced a similar reaction, despite his constant vigilance for someone with a camera or a gun.

He caught her furtive glance when she became aware of him watching her. She sat and reached for one of the bottles of water on the table, careful not to look at him. He had to agree it was strange being in a place like this with someone he’d just rescued. Especially at the cost of his team, the few that he’d dared bring on this mission.

The reminder of what he’d lost punched him again. Nothing had gone according to plan. Who had betrayed their mission and why? None of the men he’d hired were married, but the pilot and medic had parents Cullen would have to face when he returned to the States. He wasn’t looking forward to that, especially since he was going to have to lie about where their sons had died.

Sabine’s reaching for the basket diverted his attention. He welcomed it and watched her.

She glanced from the basket to him in question.

“Homemade pasta with cheese and onions. A local favorite.”

“Mmm.” She parted the cloth and lifted the ceramic bowl covered with a matching lid. Next came the bread.

“They make their own bread in outdoor ovens. You can smell it every once in a while.” The appeal of this place had penetrated his vigil more than once. But then, he’d always liked Greece.

“Mmm,” she murmured again, finding a plastic fork and starting to dig into the pasta.

It disturbed him how much he liked watching her. Her vibrancy. The look in her eyes, as if everything were new to her now.

When she sighed and put the bowl back into the basket, he knew she was full. She’d eaten less than half the makarounes and bread.

“How do you feel?”

She nodded, looking at the sea. “Better.”

A moment passed with only the sound of waves washing ashore in the distance.

“I want to walk down to the ocean,” she announced.

“Now?”

She nodded with a look of pure bliss on her face. How could he deny her after what she’d been through? “Are you sure you’re up for that?” It wasn’t far, but it would take a good hike to get there.

A smile spread on her face. The transformation hit him like a fist to the gut.

Then those green eyes so full of new life met his. “I want to walk on a beach. I really do.”

Cullen struggled with the inclination to do anything she asked as long as she kept smiling like that. The feeling was a bit too strong for his liking. But a walk on the beach wouldn’t hurt. “Okay. I went down there while you were asleep. There’s a small beach down the hill from here.” Secluded and easy to watch for anyone pointing a gun, too. He could plug them off the hillside if they tried to come after them. He ignored the fleeting thought that instead of going to the beach he should get a cab so they could leave the island that afternoon.

Sabine went into the bathroom to change. While she was in there, he stuffed a pistol good for a thousand yards in the waist of his jeans, letting his short-sleeved shirt hang over to conceal it. Then he waited for her at the door. She emerged in the dark blue lounge pants and long-sleeved white henley shirt he’d brought for her. The outfit would cover her bruises. He led her down the narrow stairs to the first floor of the pension. No one was in the sitting area of the entry.

Outside, Cullen watched Sabine for signs of fatigue. She started to breathe heavier as they walked down the street. At the footpath he’d discovered yesterday, he stopped.

“It’s a steep descent.”

“I’m fine,” she said, dismissing him to gimp down the footpath on her own.

Impressed by her courage and spunk, Cullen followed. He caught himself looking at her butt as she moved down the hill and had to force his gaze elsewhere. Rocks and brush painted the hillside, ending where a sandy inlet sloped into the ocean. Gentle waves lapped the shore, the only sound to be heard other than their footsteps.

“Oh,” Sabine breathed.

He stepped down the last of the incline, and his booted feet sank into fine, white sand. She was like a painting now. Hair sailing in a slight breeze, eyes full of appreciation that might not have been as profound had she not come so close to losing her life.

She sat on the sand and removed her hiking boots and socks. Then she rolled the hem of her lounge pants to the edge of her bandages, just above her ankles. Rising, she walked to the shore and went into the water, but only far enough to get her feet wet. That salt water would hurt her raw wounds like a thousand bee stings. Cullen removed his boots and rolled his pants up to follow her.

Waves splashed against rocks and crawled over the sand. Offshore, the water was so clear it looked like pool water, glittering, translucent cerulean fading to deep sea.

“Have you ever been to Greece before?” she asked.

“Many times,” he answered. “But never here. I’ve been to Santorini and Athens.”

“You speak the language like you’re from here.”

“My grandmother was born here.” It caught him off guard how easily that came from his mouth, personal information he usually never divulged.

“You’re Greek?” She gave him a survey, as though confirming it with her eyes.

“Partly. My mother married an Irishman. I had a knack for languages in college.”

“What was your major in college?”

“Political science.”

“What did you do after that?”

He just looked at her, knowing her questions were deliberate. He couldn’t tell her much about himself, particularly what he did after college. Not when a media frenzy awaited her return. Public curiosity would leave his company—which didn’t overtly exist and never could—too vulnerable.

“Did you join the military?” she asked.

“Something like that.”

Her mouth pursed and she stopped strolling through the water. “What’s your name? You can at least tell me that much.”

He stopped, too, and faced her. “Rudy.”

“That’s a stupid name. Even for a code name. Tell me your real name.”

He wanted to, and that heightened his concern. “Sabine …”

Pivoting, she resumed her walk through the water, her steps not as smooth as before, frustration giving her verve even as she limped. But that only managed to intrigue him more.

He caught up with her, noticing the subtle jostle of her breasts.

“I’m sure you know everything about me,” she said bitterly.

“I know your name is Sabine O’Clery and you’re thirty-three years old. Not married, no kids. I know you’re from Colorado and for some reason took the contractor job in Afghanistan.” He knew more but now was not the time to tell her.

She glanced at him. “I speak Farsi. There was a need for people like me there. I liked the idea of contract work because it gave me an opportunity to make more money and see interesting places.” She grunted her laugh. “At the time it seemed like a good idea.” Her face grew haunted and she stopped walking, staring out to sea.

“I’m sorry.” And he was, for putting that haunted look in her eyes.

Slowly, she turned and lifted her eyes. “How old are you?”

No harm in telling her that. “Thirty-five.” When she continued to look at him with those brilliant green eyes, he added, “Not married. No kids.”

“That sort of thing is hard for a man in your line of work, isn’t it? Having a family, I mean.”

He didn’t reply, wondering if she was trying to pry more from him. He couldn’t let her. He’d already said too much.

“How many of these missions do you do a year, anyway?”

Still, he didn’t say anything.

“Who do you work for?”

That especially was off-limits.

Anger flared in her eyes. He marveled at the intensity and couldn’t stop himself from looking down when she folded her arms in front of her.

“Is it my father?” She all but spat the last word.

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed and he felt dissected as she searched for signs that he was lying. She wouldn’t find any. He could pass any polygraph without flinching.

“Then it has to be the military.”

He just looked at her. Let her assume he worked for the military. It wasn’t completely a lie.

With a frustrated spin, she turned and limped to her boots.

He followed. “Do you have something against your father? Who is he?”

She sat on the sand and started to put on her socks, agitation showing in her movements. “I’m grateful you saved my life. And I’m sorry your teammates were killed.”

The memory of his teammates kept him from pressing her for an answer. Instead, he sat beside her, studying her fiery profile. Whatever had estranged her from her father, it must have something to do with the secrets Noah had to keep. She definitely didn’t like secrets. But he couldn’t let that stop him from keeping some of his own from her. What he did through his company was so black not even his commander in the army reserves knew the truth. If the media got hold of that, it would destroy him.

Sighing, he looked out to sea. He and Sabine were way too curious of each other.

“You probably like not telling me your name,” Sabine said without looking up from her boots.

He observed her for a moment, her words sinking in, confirming what he’d already guessed. The curiosity that could mushroom into more if he wasn’t careful.

“You don’t need to know anything about me,” he said as gently as he could. “As soon as I get you to London, you’ll never see me again.”

She stopped yanking the laces of her boots to look at him in surprise. “You’re taking me to London? What happens when we get there?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he started to put on his boots.

Sabine grunted and jerked the laces of her second boot together.

Best thing would be if they could just get along until he got her to London. He didn’t want her to bolt because he reminded her of Noah. “Why don’t we forget how we got here and just enjoy the island? We might not ever get a chance to come to a place like this again. I say we find somewhere to have dinner tonight. Something local, with fresh seafood.”

Deeper anger furrowed her brow. “What would we talk about, Mr. Thirty-Five, Not Married, No Kids?”

He supposed he should have expected her to react like that. And what was he thinking, suggesting they have dinner together?

“I told you I went to college,” he said. “You know about my grandmother, too. That’s a lot more than most people know.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered?”

He had to get a grip on this. Fast. “Sabine, what I do for a living won’t survive the kind of publicity your kidnapping is getting. Imagine what your rescue is going to do. As soon as you land in the United States, it’s going to be a circus. I can’t be seen with you after this. Can’t you understand that?”

She didn’t reply and struggled to her feet.

Cullen finished with his boots and followed her up the footpath. She was breathing hard climbing the steep slope. Her grimaces and awkward steps told him her legs were hurting.

He started to reach for her.

She swatted his hands away and propelled herself faster up the hill, no doubt on sheer will, casting him a dagger look over her shoulder.

He almost chuckled. One thing was for sure—she was definitely getting better.

Sitting on one of the woven chairs on the balcony, Sabine wondered what had made her so angry earlier. If Rudy didn’t want to tell her his name, he didn’t have to. Right?

She could hear him moving in the room. The shower started to run. She tried not to picture him in there, but it was impossible after seeing him without a shirt. She didn’t want to be attracted to a man who was just like her father.

She tapped the tabletop with her fingers. She wasn’t sure what bothered her more—not knowing who’d sent him, or his secrecy. If her father had sent him, that made Rudy a mercenary. A ruthless killer with no loyalty to country or ideals. That notion wrestled with the honorable act of rescuing her, and a niggling inner voice taunted that she didn’t know for sure her father’s company was that disreputable. But Rudy was keeping things from her and doing it with ease. She hated that in men. Plus, he’d gotten a thrill crash-landing the plane. That in and of itself was a big enough warning sign. The man probably never enjoyed an idle moment.

The shower turned off. Sabine looked toward the room, unable to see him and upset that she wanted to. She heard the bathroom door open. Then Rudy appeared in the doorway in black jeans and a white short-sleeved dress shirt, gray-eyed and tall and dark and too gorgeous to be good for her.