Billi Jean Read online

  “Baby, I have to go.”

  She let her head sag against the floor and sighed. “I know. I kind of thought you might.”

  “I’ll try to call.”

  She turned her head to meet his grey eyes and wished he’d give her more. But she knew that was a lot. Russell never said anything he didn’t mean. He must not care for her, not like she cared for him, like she…loved him. God, she loved him. And now what? He was leaving. And she was staying here. Alone.

  Sadness felt like it was swallowing her whole, but she forced a smile and kissed him, a quick brush of her lips after such wild madness. “If you can. I know it might not be possible, Russell. I understand.”

  Something passed over his face—disappointment, maybe? She wasn’t certain, but it was gone before she could say anything.

  “Come on. I have my bag in the truck. We can shower, then I have to go.”

  Yeah, they could have sex again, but he was still going.

  Trouble was, she suddenly didn’t want to have sex. She wanted him to curl her up, hold her tight and not let her go. She wanted him to stay. To choose her over whatever waited for him with his SEAL buddy.

  If only. She knew that wasn’t possible. He was a SEAL and—even though he was retired—she would never come before his unit.

  Her dad had put her first because her dad had loved her. And, somehow, that thought only made Russell leaving her alone all that much harder.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Russell was in deep. Too deep? Maybe. Concentrating on cleaning his gun, he tried to focus on it rather than the woman driving him nuts. No such luck. Memories of Susan were killing him. Doubts and fears he’d never known before were ripping him apart.

  She’d not asked him to stay. Not even once. She’d let him take her like some wild beast, but she’d not asked him to stay. Not that he could have. But she hadn’t known that, right?

  And when he’d offered to call, how fucked up was he to be stung that she hadn’t seemed to see how much of a sacrifice that was? She’d not even seemed to believe him, or, worse, care.

  Was he reading her all wrong? Was she in this for the sex? For a fling, but nothing more?

  “Ace, get your head in the fucking game,” Mac snapped.

  Russell wanted to snarl right back. Three weeks, he’d been here. They’d got one mission completed, or at least begun. They’d sprung Mac’s man, but they were nowhere near getting the original mission under wraps.

  Like he cared. He wanted to call Susan so badly, he was aching. More than call her, he wanted to be back with her, and not here, away from her and filled with so much worry he didn’t know what to do with it. He’d wanted to tell her he was in love with her and that, once he got back, he wouldn’t be leaving her ever again, but he’d fucked that up.

  Talk about a coward. He’d let her out of his arms and swallowed back the words. Let her tell him she wasn’t staying at the ranch, and pretty much let her set him aside.

  He was a coward. She hadn’t set him aside. She hadn’t wanted to go to the ranch, but it didn’t mean she didn’t want him. It simply meant she was one stubborn woman, and didn’t like him ordering her about.

  “Ace? Man, we need you here, with us.”

  Russell shot a look over at Mac that would peel paint. Mac didn’t even blink. Big, as tall as Russell and broader, Mac could knock the shit out of a lineman on the Dallas Cowboys starting line-up. Roughly dressed in BDUs and, for some reason, a black T-shirt with a Corona logo and a few holes in the front of it, Mac looked like some beachcomber. Dark blond hair lightened by the days at the beach was tangled all over his head. He was tanned from the sun, too, and this time he was also sporting an evil-looking sleeve tattoo from his wrist to his shoulder that Russell hadn’t seen before. Mac didn’t take his stare as anything more than Russell’s normal, ‘pissed off at being here and wasting time’ expression. That pissed Russell off even more, but what could he do?

  “Tell me what you want, then, dickhead, and I’ll do it. Sitting here, soaking up rays, is not what I came down for.”

  Mac had the good sense to keep his mouth shut until Russell got his temper under control. The man was a friend—a good friend—but this shit was killing Russell. They’d been on a team together, bled together, they’d even been held in an enemy camp together, but this was Russell’s life, his future Mac was fucking with. Susan was it, not this pain-in-the-ass mission stalling out and leaving them hanging. Russell needed action; wanted it badly enough to go blow a few heads off to get the ball rolling.

  Brown eyes met his before Mac ran a hand through his tangled hair. Maybe that was where Russell picked up that trait, because he did that when he was frustrated with Susan. Not that Mac had any reason to be frustrated with him. So what if he was cranked and ready? That was what he was here for.

  “Look, you’re here to help us, not start a fucking war. We need you—where is the Ace I knew? Has this woman gotten to you this bad? She’s a fuck, nothing more. Go fuck some other woman and get some tension out, then—”

  He didn’t get to finish the sentence because, suddenly, he was on the ground, Russell’s face in his with Russell’s arm shoved against his throat.

  “Don’t ever talk that way about her again. Got it? Do you got it? I’ll rip your throat out.”

  Pumped on adrenaline, Russell could barely let go when Mac tried to nod. The man was as tall as him, well over six feet, and outweighed him by twenty or more pounds, but Russell was one pent-up, angry man.

  Mac blinked and shook his head when Russell let up some pressure on his throat, but Russell kept his knee rammed against the other man’s chest.

  “Just remember it, Wolf, because I will not say it again. Next time you’re going down.”

  “Fuck, Ace, I am down, you fuckin’ asshole. Now get the hell off me.”

  “Shit, man, what’d we miss?” Tazz called behind them.

  Sighing, Russell got up off Mac and shot Tazz a glare. The younger man winked and picked Russell’s chair up from where he’d overbalanced it in his hurry to get to Mac. Sitting, Tazz slouched down, folded his arms over his chest and crossed his legs.

  Mac got to his feet, no doubt exaggerating how he was rubbing his neck and shoulder, but Russell ignored him.

  “Not much. Ace is tense.” Mac shot Russell a frown and got his own chair, sitting with a low curse.

  “I hadn’t noticed.” Tazz’s Texan drawl was going to get him sucker-punched, since killing a team member was frowned upon. The dark-haired Texan had a smart mouth and had no problem running it.

  Robert McNeil, named Tazz because he’d once been Tasered and had beaten the shit out of the dude who’d thought the stunt was funny, was not a man to take lightly. Not with his skills with his fists or his knives. Tazz could gut a man before the guy even knew his life had just ended. Lean, only a couple of inches shorter than Russell, Tazz looked handsome to the point of being a liability at times, because the women always remembered him. He was well worth the bullshit, though, because he was the best fighter Russell had ever seen. And not just the best fighter. Tazz never gave up. No one on his team would ever leave a man behind, but Tazz would never leave a mission or a lead behind. He was like a hound on a scent. Tenacious didn’t even come close to describing him if he wanted to know something. The irritatingly stubborn bastard was nosey, too.

  “Don’t mouth off to the man that dug me out, boys.”

  They all turned at the sound of Dare’s voice. Dare could barely stand, but not one of them moved to help him limp over and practically fall into a chair. Dressed in a pair of cargo shorts, barefoot and shirtless, Dare looked like he and Mac had been here vacationing, except Dare was naturally dark-skinned, while Mac had bronzed under the sun. Dare wore his hair cut short like Shemar Moore, and on this trip he’d even cut in a goatee. The man was a lady’s man to the extreme, but, barely able to stand, he looked like shit. He was the only reason Russ was still here. Daren Scott—Dare—had been buried alive. A few more hours? He wou
ldn’t have needed anything more than a headstone.

  “True, we’ve established that. Now, what’s the intel, Tazz?”

  “Intel says they’re on the move. New shipment should arrive at oh-six hundred. As soon as it hits the docks, they’ve scheduled a team to pick up, then another to distribute and reload for Europe’s markets. Some talk of a few tourists, mostly villagers.”

  Finally, good news.

  “So the plan the same?” Russell asked.

  Mac nodded. “The plan should work as needed—” he began, but Dare interrupted.

  “I’m in.”

  Silence settled over the men, broken by Mac swearing.

  Russell took a seat and shot Dare a look. “No. You’re a liability we don’t need. These guys are serious. You know it, I know it, and we aren’t out for revenge. If we were? I’d have them down and out. We’re here to stop them. Stop this little money-making enterprise. Am I correct?”

  All four men exchanged looks and nodded slowly. Dare cursed, but finally met his eyes and nodded as well. “Fuck. I can at least be back here, ready and listening,” Dare grumbled, fiddling with the bandage wrapped around his chest.

  Dare could do that. He was an intel guy. His cover had been blown by some jackass who was in the wrong place at the right time. Not Dare’s fault, but the guy took it that way. Every man who got caught by the enemy did that. They needed to be smarter, quicker, and ready for anything and everything. Dare had been caught with his pants down. Literally. One time getting his rocks off with a woman and he’d been taken. On a suspicion, nothing more.

  Russ wasn’t willing to let anyone else fuck up. Not that Dare had. He’d been on a mission, told to blend in and he’d been blending. Except his blending had included the sister of the ring leader, Isaac Menendez, and her kinks. One kink being sex in public. Not so good for Dare’s cover. But at least when he’d been nabbed, they’d had Dare on camera in some dark alley. Getting the information to where Dare had been taken once he’d been nabbed had been left up to Ace. As well as taking out the guys guarding Dare’s burial ground.

  It’d been a tight thing, but Russell had done it in record time. The Ace had been in the hole because he’d been halfway done before the jet had landed. He wanted back to Susan. Now. But here he was, still sitting on his hands.

  Not anymore.

  Adrenaline rushed him. Thoughts of Susan under him filled his head. Soon. Soon he’d be out of this jungle and back in her bed. Then he’d clear things up. He was a SEAL. He didn’t run from his fear—he didn’t feel fear. Except with her.

  “I need to make a call when we nail this.”

  The team shot him a look, but Mac nodded, still rubbing his shoulder, the pansy. “Hell, yeah, Ace, we’ll hook you up,” he grumbled.

  “Damn straight, man,” Dare added.

  He saw Tazz grin, but the Texan kept his lips sealed for once.

  Damn straight, because if he had to go one more day in this rat hole, worried about Susan forgetting who she belonged to, he was going to kill someone. And that might not be the way this should go down.

  Lacey finished the last of her specs, taking the time to check every line. She’d managed to kill at least an hour of her time. Only four more until she could go to bed, and, for six of the hours that would follow, she’d lie in bed thinking of Russell, wondering if he was all right, if he’d really call her, or if he’d already found himself another willing and eager woman to warm his bed.

  Groaning, she let her head fall to the table with a thunk. She’d been willing and eager, hadn’t she? Her cheeks burned with the thought. Oh, she’d not given the milk away; she’d practically thrown it at him.

  Ah, God, she was such a complete moron.

  Russell had been gone five weeks. Five long, lonely weeks. Enough time to show her she could live on her own. And enough time to determine she didn’t want to. So where did that leave her?

  Miserable.

  She missed Russell like an ache. She missed her old life. She missed her friends. But overshadowing all of that—she missed him. The smell of him. The sight of him. Him. Just him. He’d not called. Not when he’d arrived wherever he’d gone. Not a peep. Nothing since he’d walked out the door, broad shoulders back and head already on his mission.

  While Lacey had gone to her room and cried in her sheets, missing him before he’d even pulled out of the driveway. To make it worse, her sheets had smelt like him. Them. Russell and sex. Within days, the doubts had hit as the silence of the house grew impossible to deal with. Russell was a big man. A large man in many ways. He filled a space with his energy, his larger than life presence. And when he’d left and shut that front door? He’d taken something with him, something she hadn’t realised she needed, wanted, expected, even. Him.

  She’d fallen in love with the man. Completely, totally in love with him, and had no clue if he felt the same. Not one single clue.

  She’d thought of talking to Katya about it, but hadn’t. How pathetic of her to ask something like that after—she hadn’t even dated him—having sex with a man for a few weeks.

  She needed to get her head on straight. The man was not interested in her for more. Sure, they’d gone to town. They’d eaten out, they’d gone grocery shopping together, but that—

  Her phone ringing saved her from further reflections of how stupid she could be, and she knew it, which only made her want to throw the phone, not answer it.

  Sighing, Lacey picked up the thing and stared at the caller ID. Unknown. Fantastic. Some kind of solicitor. Police academy, Leukaemia Society, Good Housekeeping…

  “Hello?”

  Static filled the line so badly she winced as her ear protested. Could it be Russell? Heart racing, she tried to breathe out of a suddenly dry throat. “Hello?”

  More static, then the connection was lost.

  What had that been? Russell? Some crazy person? She stared at the slim cell phone, willing it to ring. It had to have been Russell. But why now? Why now after all these weeks? Oh, God. What if something had gone wrong? No, no, no one would tell her. She nearly cried at the thought. She wasn’t related. They weren’t married. No one knew she even existed except her new friends here and they didn’t even know who she was. Neither did Russell. The thought made her head hurt.

  When the phone rang again she nearly dropped it, not proud of the squeal that shot out of her mouth, but damn it, this might be Russell.

  “Susan? Can you hear me now?”

  “Yep!” A stupid grin filled her face, but she was beyond caring. Her heart was ready to burst and all the weeks, the worry, the wait, it was all so worth it. Russell. “Russell.”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  Uh, right. Who else? “Are you…home?” Would he have gone home first? Not come here?

  “Negative, not home.”

  Negative? Her smile nearly hurt, it was so big. “All right then, Major, are you coming home?”

  A slight pause then a chuckle. “Damn, I missed your smart mouth.”

  Covering her mouth with her hand, Lacey sat down like someone had cut her legs out from under her. “I miss you, Russell. I hope you’re…you’re good.” Not hurt? Was it safe to say that? “Can you talk a little more, Russell? I’m not sure what to say…”

  Another laugh. “I better write that down. You don’t know what to say, huh? I told you I’d call.”

  “Russell, it’s been five weeks!” Oops—well, there went calm and cool.

  Another silence, then she heard what sounded like him clearing his throat. “Well, it has, hasn’t it?”

  She glanced at the phone, not sure what to make of that. “Yep, it has. Five weeks and two days, if you’re wondering.”

  Another silence.

  She bit her lip. Why was he acting so strangely?

  “Naw, I kinda knew that. Did you think about me?”

  Now that was more like Russell. She grinned. “Yep. You’re kinda hard to forget.”

  Another silence, not a laugh. She wanted to hear ab
out him missing her again, but he stayed silent.

  “Russell? What is it?” If he gave her the line about how fun it’d been, or how he’d not be coming back… If he gave her the boot, she’d not cry. She would not cry.

  “I missed you. Thought about you every night. Shit, all day, too. Nearly got my ass shot off for thinking about you, so yeah, I thought about you. Wondered if you been missing me as much?”

  “Russell, you idiot! Of course I have, didn’t I tell you that? Wasn’t I saying that? Did you call me to talk to me, or are you playing games?”

  “Holy hell, baby, slow down. Give a man a chance here. I’ve not called… Shit, I wanted to hear your voice, but I… Playing games? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Russell Ryland, get home, will you? I want you here, so I can smack the back of your head. Even if I have to get up on a chair to do it. Geez, do you know what all those silences were doing to me? How am I—?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down, baby. All right. I missed you. There. I said it. Again. Now. What are you wearing?”

  Huh? Slowly, a smile filled her heart and she slouched down on the couch. “Your T-shirt.”

  The silence was a lot nicer this time. “And…? That all?”

  “Yep…oh, you mean am I wearing panties? A thong, or a slinky pair of lacy boy shorts?”

  “Ah, God, baby, I hope you’re still bare and wearing my shirt.”

  “Oh, you like it when I wear the boy shorts. You like to rip them off…remember?”

  “How the hell could I forget that?” He sounded decidedly shaken.

  But, still. “Are you alone on this line, Russell Ryland?”

  A choked laugh. “Shit, I’m in bed, stroking my cock and listening to you give me a hard-on that won’t go down.”