Pamela Clare - Striking Distance

She shook her head. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He switched tactics. “Okay, fine. It’s your fault—all of it. Why don’t you explain to me what you should’ve done better?”

She gaped at him for a moment, and then her face crumbled. “I should have realized I was having a baby. I shouldn’t have let them take her from me.”

“I’m betting that having a baby hurts a helluva lot, but if you’d have been stronger, maybe you could have fought the two of them off between contractions or some shit, right? Or if you weren’t able to do that, you could have at least dug deep, toughed out the hemorrhaging, and gone after her.”

Laura glared at him. “When you say it like that—”

“Hey, I’m just speaking the truth here. So tell me, what else should you have done? Out with it. I want to hear.”

She turned her gaze away from him. “I should have taken Klara when I ran. If I had just pulled her from Safiya’s arms—”

“You think that crazy bitch who tried to stab you might have noticed a move like that? Do you think Al-Nassar’s other wives might have noticed? You said they were holding you back, that they left bruises on your arms trying to control you. Could be they’d have slit your throat right there or slipped that knife between your ribs. Could be they’d have fought you and torn that little baby girl to pieces.”

She glared at him. “At the very least, I could have told the tall SEAL, the one who carried me onto the chopper, that I had a baby. I could have remembered her and asked for his help. The women were so afraid of the operators that they’d have done whatever he said.”

Javier nodded. “Well, there is that. Why didn’t you tell him?”

“Because . . .” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Because I didn’t remember. I . . . I just knew I had to go with them if I wanted to live.”

“You barely remembered your own name.” He didn’t see why she couldn’t understand. “How could you have remembered a baby you’d never held, a baby they wouldn’t let you believe was yours? Maybe it’s easier for you to blame yourself than to admit how badly they’d brutalized you and how helpless you truly were.”

Her gaze snapped back to his. “How can you say that?”

Javier saw the despair and self-loathing in her eyes—and he made a decision. “Because I was there, Laura. I saw what happened. I was in command of the squad that hit Al-Nassar’s compound. I’m the one who carried you out of there.”

Her face went pale, her eyes wide as she gaped at him. “You?”

“I just violated my orders by telling you this, so don’t repeat it, understand? That mission is still classified.”

“You were the tall SEAL?”

“Yeah.” Now at least he wouldn’t have to compete with himself.

She shook her head. “That couldn’t have been you. I watched him. I listened to him. I would have recognized your voice.”

“That was me, Laura. I was there. You shouted out, ‘I’m an American, too.’ Ross warned me one of the women was running up behind me. I turned, told you to get down, but you were already on your knees. I saw the other one running toward you, saw the knife in her hand, and I killed her. Then I ripped that burka off you and saw your face. I couldn’t believe it was you.” Javier’s throat went tight, a surge of emotion taking him. He tucked a strand of white-blond hair behind her ear. “You were alive.”

She sank to the couch, her gaze locked with his. “That was really you?”

“Yeah.” Some part of him had wanted to tell her that for a very long time. He sat beside her. “When I learned a SEAL team was being tasked with taking down Al-Nassar, I did everything I could to get our guns into that fight. I wanted to be the one to catch the pendejo who’d killed you. Our mission was to bring him back alive if we could, and I was hoping that motherfucker would do something, anything, that would justify my putting a bullet through his skull.”

Javier stopped himself, pretty sure she didn’t need to hear any of that. “I’m telling you this, because I saw how it was. I know what happened that night. It’s clear as crystal in my mind. Do you want to know what I saw?”

She didn’t answer, still watching him through wide eyes.

“I saw a woman run from people who had tried their best to break her. I saw the bruises. I saw how weak she was—pale, thin, terrified. She mustered all the courage she had and did what few hostages dare to do. She ran.”

She seemed to consider this, her gaze dropping to the floor again. But there was grief on her face now, not self-loathing, not blame. “I didn’t mean to leave her. I didn’t mean to forget her.”

“I know you didn’t.” He took her hand, stroked her knuckles with his thumb. “I’ve thought about this a lot since you told me about Klara. Here’s what I think would have happened if you had remembered. I’d have grabbed a few men and gone after Klara, and those combatants with their RPGs would have blown us to bits. They barely missed as it was. Another minute or two and they’d have had us.”

He caught her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Do you hear what I’m telling you, bella? There wasn’t time for me to go after Klara. We barely got out of there alive.”

She looked into his eyes, and he could almost feel the struggle going on inside her. “I feel like I remember that night so well. It was as if the world became color again instead of just black and white, and yet, when I hear you talk, I realize I’m only remembering small pieces of it.”

“Then listen to me, bella. See yourself through my eyes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you? Why didn’t you visit me at the hospital?”

“I couldn’t. Operational security. I spent two days after the mission being debriefed and getting the materials we confiscated into the right hands. Besides, I wasn’t sure you’d recognize me. I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

Her lips curved in a sad smile, and she gave a little laugh.

“What?”

“Thanks for saving my life—and for punching Al-Nassar in the face. That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”

“I wish I’d killed him.” It was the truth.

“I wish I’d known it was you.”

“You were never supposed to find out.”

“I won’t tell anyone. No one at NSW will know.”

“No worries. I trust you.” Javier didn’t say it because he knew it would upset Laura, but NSW would find out. He would tell them himself. Not right away, of course, or they’d drag his ass back to Coronado. Unless they asked him point-blank, he’d wait till he was back in California. He respected his uniform too much to mislead or lie to his superiors. It was a matter of honor.

Do you hear that, cabrón? It’s the sound of your career circling the drain.

Maybe so. But he didn’t regret what he’d just done. Laura had suffered enough. He couldn’t let her waste years of her life blaming herself.

Laura smiled, laughed, ran her fingertips along his jaw.

He caught her hand and kissed it. “What?”

She looked into his eyes, still smiling. “I was just thinking how lucky I am. The man I’ve held in my heart as my hero for the past two years, the man I’ve prayed for every night—he turned out to be the man I love.”

Javier thought his heart would punch a hole in his chest. Had she just said what he thought she’d said?

¡Ea Diablo!

Sweet adrenaline sang through him, took the breath from his lungs as he looked at her tearstained face, the love he felt for her shining back at him in her perfect eyes.

He did the only thing he could.

He kissed her.

LAURA DRANK JAVIER in, the warmth of his lips dispelling the tangle of grief and rage inside her, sexual need so recently satisfied flaring to life again.

She loved him. God, she loved him.

She’d told him, and she’d seen love on his face.

Javier. Her hero.

He’d come into her life, turning her world upside down in a single weekend, showing her a kind of passion she’d found with no other man. But it had been more than a physical connection even then. She’d never felt that close to another soul. He’d reached a place inside her no other man had touched.

Why hadn’t she recognized it for the miracle it was in Dubai?

How arrogant she’d been, so sure of herself, so certain she knew the path her life would take. She’d thought she had all the time in the world. She’d been wrong. She’d come close to losing everything—the past, the future, her identity.

But that didn’t matter any longer because she was alive and free. Because of him, she was alive and free. And they were together again.

She let her lips go pliant, wanting him to take control, wanting to feel the raw side of him, the side of him ruled by instincts. She didn’t need to be afraid—not any longer. She knew this man, knew where he could take her if they both let go.

He slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue teasing hers, his fingers in her hair. But still he held back.

How could she let him know she was ready for more?

Without breaking the kiss, she let the throw fall from her shoulders and straddled his thighs, her hands grasping the waistband of his pajama bottoms and giving them a rough yank.

He took his lips from hers, a questioning look in his eyes as he reached down to shuck the pajama bottoms, kicking them off his feet.

And then they were both naked.

Laura raked her nails down his chest, scraping gently. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to hide from this. I want this to be what it should be.”