Under Fire (Elite Force #3)

Under Fire (Elite Force #3) Page 17

And oh God, how her dream felt so erotically real right now. She was in bed. With Liam. His whipcord-lean body over hers. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck, anticipate the feel of his mouth on her skin.

Her legs thrashed at the covers, tangling in the sheets, her long T-shirt riding up until the canvas texture of his uniform abraded sensually against her bare legs. Want rippled through her until she arched her back to press more firmly against him. What harm was there in indulging herself in a dream?

“Rachel.” His raspy voice stoked her fantasies.

The man could talk her to an orgasm with the husky suggestiveness in the way his tongue caressed her name.

“Liam,” she moaned, and oh God, she really had spoken out in her sleep. The veil between sleep and reality became translucent, the two worlds blending. Fear gripped her that if she woke up, she could lose this chance to have Liam, even if only in a dream realm.

She twisted her fingers in the sheets to hold on to the nighttime delusion a while longer, long enough to assuage the ache between her thighs. Completion hovered so close, until the need to finish clawed through her painfully. It had been so long since she’d wanted someone this much.

Since losing Caden, infrequent sex had merely been about release. This craving for Liam went so much deeper… and just the word deeper made her want more. Now. Fantasies were private and unlimited…

She threaded her fingers through his hair, testing the texture. Damp? From rain? Details intruded on her dream state until—

“Rachel,” he hissed in her ear, his hand clamping over her mouth. “Shhh. Wake up and stay quiet. And for God’s sake, quit moving like that.”

Okay, domination was not her idea of sexy.

Her eyes snapped open. He loomed over her, tall and lean, his tensed body covering her. His leg pressed between her legs, and it was all she could do in her half-awake state not to wriggle against the sweet pressure that should have faded in light of whatever was going on.

A low moan of pleasure slipped from her lips anyway.

His hand stayed clamped over her mouth, gently, but unmistakable in its message. His chest pumped against her with ragged breaths. His head dipped toward her. She swallowed hard, and God help her, if he kissed her right now, she wouldn’t stop him, and to hell with anything else. Her body arched into him before she could think, much less stop herself.

His voice caressed her ear. “Rachel, honey, you’re killing me here.”

The hard length of him pressed into her hip, letting her know he hurt every bit as much as she did from this unconsummated attraction. As much as she wanted to lose herself in the moment, in the answering heat radiating off him, reason began to filter through.

“Liam?” she whispered. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“You have to trust me and stay really quiet,” he answered softly. “We need to leave without alerting anyone. Now. Get dressed fast and follow me out.”

Passion turned to a frightening burn. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

She nodded under his hand and he rolled off her fluidly, sitting on the edge of the bed with his broad back to her.

A big black gun was strapped to his waist alongside a knife.

Oh God.

She slipped from under the covers and padded to her small bag quickly in the shadowy room. There was no time for modesty. Still, she turned away from Liam. She whipped the overlong T-shirt over her head and yanked a T-shirt and jeans from her backpack. He stepped up alongside her so quietly she almost yelped—then remembered the no-talking edict.

Silently, he passed her gym shoes and socks. She dropped to the bed and yanked them on. Tying the laces, she realized Disco had never made a sound during this whole encounter. He always, always alerted her to strangers approaching. Her heart lurched until she saw her dog standing just behind Liam. The Lab’s black coat had blended into the darkness.

Now the two of them stood like sentinels between her and whatever waited outside that had stirred Liam to such extreme action. Her stomach tumbled over itself with nerves. It was one thing to lead a search for bodies in the aftermath of disaster. Another to be on the run as her world crumbled around her feet.

Her life was spiraling out of control rather than settling. But she’d brought Liam into this, because for some unknown reason, she trusted him more than anyone. That meant following him now.

Swallowing hard, fully dressed, she turned toward him and nodded.

Liam jerked his head toward the hall without a word, and as she walked through the house, she realized that all the blinds had been drawn. No one could see out—or in. Disco’s nose swiveled left hard and fast, causing Rachel to stop short. She eyed the line of his attention to the living room—and gasped.

Sylvia Cramer lay stretched out on the sofa. With her hands folded over her chest and her upswept auburn hair only a bit mussed, she appeared to be—dead? Liam glanced back at her, his eyebrows pinched together, but he didn’t show the least surprise or interest in Sylvia. Rachel grabbed her dog’s collar, hair rising on her arms. Then she realized—thank God—Sylvia’s chest rose and fell evenly in deep sleep.

Now that was almost strangest of all. The OSI agent just taking a nap? In the middle of an assignment? She checked the clock hanging on the wall over the television armoire and saw it was only three o’clock in the morning. She’d slept only two and a half hours. Bullfrogs sang a full nighttime chorus outside.

Liam held up a hand, motioning for her to stay still. He crossed to Sylvia with steps so silent it unsettled her more than a little. Scooping up the sleeping agent, he carried her through the safe house and back to Rachel’s room. Through the open door, she saw him place Special Agent Cramer on the bed and pull the covers over her. If anyone came in, they would assume it was Rachel.

Okay, he mouthed to Rachel a second before he wrapped his fingers around her arm, strong, gentle… insistent. His eyes spoke louder than any words. We need to go.

Tugging her attention from the oddly sleeping agent, she padded softly through the house until Liam reached the garage. Opening the door, he revealed two vehicles, both facing nose out, as if preset for a speedy exit. The closest, a nondescript blue sedan, was parked beside a dark blue Suburban with tinted windows. He motioned her toward the latter, on the far side.

Because of the windows? Or the sturdiness? Certainly not because of fuel efficiency, she thought with a hysterical bubble working its way up her throat.

Again, he held a finger over his mouth, reminding her to stay silent. He opened one door, the driver’s side, and gestured her and Disco inside.

Were there listening devices in the house? Were agents at the OSI actually listening for how many doors closed? Although that made sense, since if Sylvia left, she would be alone, so only one door would shut.

Of course Sylvia was asleep inside, so there must not be cameras watching, or someone would already be after them.

What about any other guards outside? Were they all “napping” too?

She climbed inside and across the seat, her knee sliding in her haste. Liam’s steadying hand cupped her butt, and holy crap, the heat seared clear through her jeans. And it was crazy that in the middle of a crisis she wanted to spin around and fling herself against his chest, wrap her arms and her legs around him while she finished the kiss they’d barely gotten to start earlier.

Actually not so crazy, considering she’d been having erotic dreams about him, when she should be too scared to breathe, much less lust. Although even in the middle of this hell, apparently Liam had the same feelings, which made her feel less like a freak of nature for being turned on when she should be worried about the people gunning for her.

Sitting upright, she yanked on the seat belt while Disco hopped into the back. Liam settled behind the wheel and opened the automatic garage door before her belt clicked.

Again, she was sneaking off base and she had no idea why. She reached across and touched Liam’s shoulder lightly, asking silently if it was okay to speak.

He shook his head.

God, how much longer would this silence contest last? Her heart beat so loudly, surely anybody listening in would hear her.

Hours later—or more likely about ten minutes later—Liam pulled into a cluster of palm trees by a vacant outdoor mall. He moved so smoothly, competently. She’d forgotten about his efficiency of movement, nothing wasted, nothing out of sync. Using the illumination of outdoor streetlamps and a flashlight from the glove compartment, he searched the interior and exterior of the SUV, disconnecting wires inside, then sliding underneath the vehicle.

Minutes later he slipped out again, arced back his arm, and threw a fistful of tiny silver disks into a canal flowing between the dead mall and a pathetic used-car lot. Liam leaped the channel and moved among the cars. A temporary plate? Made sense. But what about the etched white letters on the side? He peeled a Maid Service magnet off the defunct service’s Dumpster out front and slapped it on the side of the Suburban over the wording painted on the door—some kind of military designation?

He was frighteningly good at this.

Back in the vehicle, he slammed the car into reverse and back onto the road. “Now we can talk.”

She wanted to ask a million different things, but she settled for, “Um, where are we going?”

“I don’t know yet.” His jaw was hard, his muscles bulging with tension.

“That’s not very comforting.”

“I’m winging it here.” His eyes darted, checking the mirrors, sides, front, alert and ready for God only knew what. “Trust me. We needed to leave the base. And I’ll have a plan before anyone even knows we’re gone.”

“What about going to the police? If not here, then how about I place calls to some people I know from when I worked in the D.C. and Virginia area? I probably should have called them in the first place, but I cut so many ties when I left the search and rescue field…” She shook her head, frustrated with herself that she hadn’t thought of the cops and FBI agents she’d met during some of the more high-profile rescues. “Must have been subliminal, that I didn’t think of them. But if you let me use the cell, I can try.”

“Not now, Rachel.”

“Back to the OSI?” In all her multiteam collaborative efforts, she’d never worked directly with the OSI, but their reputation was top-notch. She scrambled for something, anything, her brain still half asleep, her body caught somewhere between that erotic dream and the harsh edge of her dangerous reality.

“Definitely not.”

They couldn’t even trust the OSI anymore? Okay, now she was really freaking out.

He drove through the dark and deserted streets. Fog rolled in off the water in a greedy vapor, sucking up the road from sight. It felt as if they were truly alone in the world. Cut off from any source of help.

“What happened back there at the house to tip you off? Why did we have to leave?”

“I would tell you if I could, but you just have to trust me. That’s why you chose to come to me for help, because you trust me.”

True enough. She knew that he would do anything… Anything at all? “Were you given permission to leave?”

He didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself. Their departure wasn’t officially sanctioned and Liam was protecting her by keeping her in the dark on the details.

How would this play out for him at work? Was he risking his career for her? She hadn’t even considered that possibility when coming to him for help. Bile burned her throat along with a hefty dose of self-loathing.

“Let’s call this whole thing off now.” She braced her palms on the dashboard. “I know nothing. You know nothing. Let Disco and me off at the next police station. You go back home and say I snuck away from the house.”

“Not gonna happen,” he said without missing a beat as he drove farther from base and the unconscious agent.

She hadn’t really expected him to go for it. Time for plan B, which probably wouldn’t work either, but she had to try.