Czytaj książkę: «Blown Away»

Blown Away
Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my friends Stephen, Debbie,

Janelle, Brenna and Jenny for all their help with the

Washington, D.C., setting and the inner workings of the

Rayburn Building. Without your help, this book would

not have happened. Thank you!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Sean McNeal strode into the bedroom of the suite, a cup of coffee balanced in one hand. He stood for a moment enjoying the sight of legislative assistant Tessa Janine Barton sleeping. She insisted on being called TJ, reasoning that Tessa was too sweet, and she didn’t consider herself sweet, although Sean disagreed.

Her chin-length sandy-blond hair spread out on the pillowcase in a semicircle and her cheeks were still flushed a rosy pink from making love into the small hours of the morning. The one thing he liked most about TJ was the intensity she applied to everything—her job, her politics and especially sex.

He’d known her only two weeks and, despite his vow to never let a woman sneak beneath the radar screen and clobber his defenses, he felt TJ had done just that. For the past few days Sean had been thinking dangerous thoughts of ever-after with one woman—a stream of consciousness he’d never swam up. TJ Barton with her athletic body, passion for life and ability to laugh just when you needed it most had slipped beneath his skin.

He’d fallen hard and rather than regret it, he woke each morning looking forward to seeing her face on the pillow beside him. What would happen when they returned to the States and resumed their mutually disparate lives? Would he go back to being the perpetually single bachelor, utterly devoted to his job and nothing else?

Sean didn’t want to think beyond today and TJ’s beautiful body lying naked beneath the sheets. Rather than go to work, he wanted to yank off the tie strangling his throat, crawl out of the business suit he felt so alien in and get naked with her. Maybe spend the day in bed, recapturing the magic of last night’s lovemaking.

Unfortunately, he had a job to do and so did she. He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to the erogenous zone behind her ear—that sensitive spot that drove her crazy. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“Ummmm.” She stretched, her lithe form outlined beneath the sheets. “What time is it?” Her voice was like soft gravel, a sexy whisper clouded with sleep.

“Your meeting begins in twenty minutes.”

Her body halted in mid-stretch and her eyes flew open. “What?”

He really liked that her eyes were the deep brown of dark chocolate in stark contrast to her sandy-blond hair. “You have twenty minutes before you’re expected at the embassy.” He smacked her thigh. “Get up.”

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist, exposing the smooth skin and taut lines of her upper body and pert breasts.

“You looked so sexy, I hated to wake you. Besides, it’s only a block to the embassy. If you hurry, you’ll even have time for this cup of coffee.” Truth was he’d felt guilty for keeping her up making love until two in the morning.

“Haddock will be furious if I’m not there on time.” She flung the sheets aside and stood beside him.

Sean smoothed a hand down her hip and pulled her against him. “I’m all for skipping our meetings and staying here.” Pressing a kiss to her lips, one hand slid up her back and the other down over her naked bottom.

“Ummm.” Her tongue delved between his lips and dueled with his; her hands slipped beneath his jacket to wrap around his waist. She squeezed him hard and leaned back. “As interesting as the possibility sounds, I have to be there. Congressman Haddock is ready to wrap up this meeting with Dindian Prime Minister Abediayi and get back to the States.” One more hard kiss and she pushed away.

Sean sighed. Back to the States. Back to the real world of high-paced metro living, where people barely had time to think much less get to know each other. “Does he still plan to leave the day after tomorrow?”

“If he can, he’d like to leave sooner,” she said from the bathroom. “It all depends on the outcome of today’s meeting. What about you?”

“My plans are fluid. I can come and go as I please, within reason.”

“Must be nice to be your own boss.” She strode back through the bedroom wearing a shell-pink bra and matching lace panties.

Sean resisted the urge to grab her and throw her on the bed. His business was her business, only he hadn’t filled her in on all the details. In his line of work, the less everyone knew about his real job, the better. The outer shell he’d constructed was enough for anyone to know, including TJ.

As far as TJ Barton and personnel at the embassy were concerned, he was a business consultant there to assist the small African nation of Dindi with their application for assistance from the U.S. government through the Millennium Challenge program. His covert duty as a Stealth Operations Specialist was ferreting out insider information on Dindi and on terrorist activities purportedly sponsored by their president’s opposing political party, or any other faction that could impact the congressman’s visit.

He checked his watch. Marty Sikes expected him at the embassy in five minutes. “I need to go.”

TJ zipped the back of her simple black skirt and padded over to him in bare feet. “Will I see you later?”

He nodded, staring down into her shining brown eyes. “Can’t promise when.”

“Me either.” She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I wish the day was already over.”

“Same here.” He returned the pressure, holding her close for only a moment more before he let go. The day ahead already seemed too long and he wasn’t sure he liked feeling anxious to get through it.

“Sean?”

Pausing at the door, he turned toward her.

“This has been crazy, these last two weeks.” One hand pushed her hair behind her ear, a habit she only displayed when she was nervous.

“Absolutely.” Sean’s gut knotted. He’d enjoyed the last two weeks, but was he ready to admit it meant more than just a fling?

She smiled, her face lighting the room. “I’ve had fun.”

His belly flipped over that smile. “Same here.”

Her lips straightened and her brow furrowed in that way he knew meant she was about to say something that meant a lot to her.

Recognizing and reading body language were all part of Sean’s job. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t so good at it. He found himself praying she wouldn’t say anything declaratory, especially the L word. He’d never experienced love and he wasn’t convinced it really existed. Even when he was a boy, that emotion was illusive. The only child of an alcoholic father, he hadn’t known real affection. And his mother had split when he was barely five.

Nor was he certain he wanted the debilitating limitations involved with being in love. He’d watched his pal Marty go from a totally focused, leap-into-action S.O.S. agent to one who stopped to consider all his actions carefully before pursuing the one most reasonable and least life-threatening.

TJ pushed the hair behind her other ear. “When we go back to Washington—”

With his heart pounding against his ribs, Sean felt the sudden need to breathe open, fresh air, even in the smelly streets of Conbanau. He jerked the door open and said over his shoulder, “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.” And then he escaped like his life depended on it.

WHEN THE DOOR SLAMMED behind Sean, TJ shook her head. Okay, the guy wasn’t ready for anything more than a fling. She’d suspected that was the case when he refused to open up about his past, his work or anything personal. Oh, he’d shared information about his favorite sports team and the foods he most enjoyed. But who was the real Sean McNeal? What made him tick? And why did he run when she’d only tried to mention a future beyond the two weeks they’d spent in Africa? She wouldn’t ask for marriage or false promises. Heck, she hadn’t even finished her sentence before he bolted.

She slipped her arms into the black silk jacket, glad of its lightweight fabric. The heat and humidity of the colorful coastal city of Conbanau could be oppressive as the day wore on. And today promised to be a very wearing day.

The thought that would get her through the long, boring meetings with the pompous prime minister and his mealymouthed financial aide was the knowledge that Sean would be somewhere in the embassy with her. And, if she hadn’t scared him off, he’d be back in her room that night.

Her body tingled in anticipation and she peered out the window, catching sight of Sean crossing the busy street, dodging buses and brightly dressed men and women walking or riding bicycles. As he wove through the crowded streets to the embassy only a block away, his white skin and dark suit stood out in the sea of humanity. He wore his hair longer than most men, giving him a more daring look. The man was tall, dark, sexy and mysterious, making him everything she ever dreamed of, yet didn’t have room for, in her life as a legislative assistant.

If she hadn’t come to Dindi ahead of Congressman Haddock, she probably would never have met Sean at the little café between the hotel and the embassy. They would never have strolled along the beach at sunset talking about the stars and constellations. And they never would have captured the moonlight in that single, soul-defining kiss that launched them into a night of lovemaking unsurpassed by anything TJ had ever experienced.

She sighed, something she’d done a lot of in the past week. What was wrong with her? Her life was just as she loved it—fast-paced, exciting and purposeful. As a legislative assistant, she had more influence on government decisions than the average American. Since she’d left the FBI, she’d mentored with Mason Haddock, Republican congressman from the great state of Texas. Her work was safe, fascinating and everything she wanted.

Until Sean showed up. He was the icing on the cake. A businessman, not an FBI agent on a dangerous assignment. TJ liked that Sean wasn’t in a career where dodging bullets was just another hazard of the job. She’d suffered through a relationship like that before and wanted nothing to do with danger and life-threatening situations. Give her safety and stability every day. She didn’t miss the late-night stakeouts, being shot at by cornered criminals or waiting by the phone to hear if the man she thought she loved was dead or alive after a particularly dangerous assignment.

Granted, life as an FBI agent wasn’t all shoot-outs and gunfire. They spent most of their time interviewing and digging through mounds of paperwork searching for clues. But all it took was one bullet, one bomb, one strung out junkie to ruin your day—or end a man’s life.

No, sir. Give her a quiet government job where she could help shape decisions through intelligence instead of brute force. Although, sometimes she wanted to resort to brute force when the congressman was particularly stubborn on certain issues.

A quick glance at her watch made TJ gasp. Crud! Congressman Haddock would be furious if she wasn’t there a full hour before the proposed meeting. Which gave her exactly four minutes to find her shoes and join the sea of people on the streets heading in the same direction as Sean.

Dashing back through the suite, she slipped into her serviceable black pumps, grabbed her briefcase and raced down the wide staircase of the five-star hotel. Atypical for the large African center of commerce, the streets were filled with people of all classes of society, each with a purpose for the day.

TJ’s purpose was to get to the embassy in—she checked her watch—three minutes. Half walking and half running, she hurried down the long block toward the three-story, forty-five-room, sprawling U.S. embassy surrounded by an impressive wrought-iron fence and lush green lawns. She could see the building above the heads of the people surrounding her.

With his head start on her, Sean should be clearing the gate about now. She wished she’d woken when he had so that they could walk together and so she wouldn’t be so winded when she arrived. As a legislative assistant, she prided herself in always being calm and collected. It was her job to make Congressman Haddock look good by being prepared and ready for anything and everything. Meeting Sean had thrown her into reactionary mode, constantly running to keep up.

As she neared the imposing building, the throng of people thinned. With the path clear, she was in the homestretch and should make it there only a few minutes after the congressman. TJ slowed short of the gate and dug in her purse for her passport and identification. When she found them she moved forward without looking up.

She bumped into a businessman leaving the gate at the same time as she approached. Her impression of the man was dark hair, intense brown eyes and an expensive pinstripe suit. TJ apologized for her clumsiness, but the businessman didn’t even acknowledge her. He kept walking, his long strides eating the distance.

“Must be in a hurry.” TJ showed her passport and government identification badge to the Marine standing guard. While she tucked the items back in her purse, Congressman Haddock’s empty black limousine exited the compound. Great, he’d already arrived and was probably looking for her.

Slinging her purse back over her shoulder she’d taken two steps across the long, cobblestone drive when an explosion ripped through the air, knocking her off her feet and spewing stone, dust and debris across the green lawns.

The spacious white building with elegant arches crumbled before her eyes, the center collapsing into a pile of rubble. A cloud of black smoke and brown dust rose into the air, billowing out from the center of the blast.

TJ tried to sit up, but when she did, her ears rang and the scene before her spun out of control. Bending forward, she tucked her head between her knees, fighting for control of her senses and the contents of her stomach. When she managed to raise her head, her vision blurred, dust filled her lungs and she erupted in a burst of coughing.

Men and women ran toward a jumble of crumbled stone, jagged timbers and broken glass where the American embassy had once stood. People scrambled around the debris, but nothing moved beneath the destruction. Those who’d been inside couldn’t have survived the blast.

Sean.

As the screech of sirens moved closer, a woman’s wail rose above the noise. The sound emerged from deep in TJ’s chest. She swayed, welcoming the black abyss dragging her into darkness.

Chapter Two

Spring in Washington, D.C. usually made TJ happy. Today, despite the blooming cherry blossoms, her jog was all work. She made her way through Rock Creek Park and down to the towpaths formerly used by the mules that towed barges along the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. The C&O Canal ran parallel to the Potomac River and was usually a peaceful place to run. But TJ wasn’t in a peaceful frame of mind.

A month had passed since Congressman Haddock’s death and TJ’s subsequent return from Conbanau. The government still didn’t know much more about who caused the death and destruction. Several terrorist groups claimed responsibility, contradicting themselves and sending Congress, the CIA and the president into an uproar for resolution and vindication.

TJ had spent the week following the explosion helping the CIA and the American government with the investigation and arranging for the congressman’s remains to be shipped back to the States. In between dodging reporters and trying to answer questions she didn’t have the answers to, she searched for Sean.

All the surviving casualties had been sent to the Conbanau Mercy Hospital following the explosion. Although TJ insisted she was all right, they’d kept her overnight for observation. She’d managed to slip from her room and find Sean in the mass-casualty chaos the hospital staff was ill-prepared to handle.

Although his head was wrapped in a swath of white gauze bandages, he was the Sean she’d spent two wonderful weeks with. He’d been hooked up to IVs and was unconscious.

TJ wanted him to wake and talk to her, to hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. But he was unresponsive, either due to his injuries or the drugs loaded into his IV. She sat beside him until a nurse chased her back to her room.

Sick over the death of Congressman Haddock, she’d crawled into her lone hospital bed and fallen into an exhausted sleep. She didn’t wake until the nurse came through the following morning with breakfast.

TJ had waited until the nurse left the room and entered the next room down the hall. Then she slipped out to check on Sean.

When she reached the room she’d found him in the night before, another victim from the explosion occupied the bed Sean had been in.

As if in a fog, she checked the rooms on either side, afraid she’d been confused. Finally, she asked a nurse where Sean had been taken. The young woman checked her charts and then placed a hand on TJ’s arm. That’s when she was told Sean had been taken to the mortuary.

TJ stumbled on the path. Fewer people jogged on the dirt, choosing to keep their running shoes clean on the pavement. TJ preferred to be closer to the water and the relative solitude she could find in a city teeming with people.

The nightmares were only just beginning to fade and she liked to think she was getting her life back on track.

But then she’d gotten word from her contact in the CIA that the terrorist attack on the U.S. embassy hadn’t been the responsibility of Prime Minister Abediayi’s political opponents. Nor had it been any of the terrorist organizations claiming credit. The CIA suspected the death and destruction had been bought and paid for by an American citizen and they were digging into the case, more determined than ever to discover the organization or individual responsible.

Her mind had a hard time latching on to the news. An American had arranged for the explosion that killed Congressman Haddock, several legislative assistants, the American ambassador to Dindi and the Dindi prime minister, among too many others. The blast had also killed Sean McNeal, an innocent businessman.

TJ swallowed hard on the bile rising in her throat. With so many terrorist groups killing Americans, she found it hard to believe one of her own countrymen had done this terrible thing. The weight of the knowledge pressed down on her shoulders, slowing her feet until she came to a complete stop. She stared out over the canal, neither seeing the people on the other side, nor the rowers paddling canoes and kayaks along its smooth water.

All she could see was the glint of light in Sean’s eyes as he bent to kiss her. She could still feel the touch of his hand on her bare skin, smoothing down her back and lower. For a man she’d only known two weeks, he’d left an indelible mark. A mark she’d fought hard to erase.

She turned and headed back to her apartment, continuing along the dirt towpath. She caught glimpses of people on the parallel paved path through the trees. One in particular sailed past her, his dark hair and tall build striking a chord of familiarity. Her heart leaped inside her chest and she had to talk herself down from the jolt.

Because she was thinking about Sean, had her mind superimposed his image on the man jogging the other trail? Despite reasoning, she picked up her pace to match that of the man’s. Ahead, the two trails converged and she’d get a better view of him. Not that he was Sean. Sean died in Dindi. They’d taken him to the mortuary in the hospital’s basement and shipped him out even before TJ could visit the body for confirmation. All the paperwork had been in order and his family had requested that his remains be shipped immediately.

After all the hoops the American government had gone through to get Congressman Haddock’s body back to U.S. soil, TJ had questioned the speed with which Sean’s body had left the hospital and country. At the time, she’d attributed it to the fact Haddock was a congressman, and everything in the government moved slower.

The trees and brush grew denser for several yards and TJ lost sight of the jogger. When she reached the trail convergence, blood pounded so hard against her eardrums she couldn’t hear. A blond, athletic man emerged, not the dark-haired jogger she’d been racing to catch.

Feeling foolish, she slowed her breakneck pace, but she couldn’t help scanning the side roads leading up to K Street until she reached Rock Creek Parkway and headed north. Increasing her stride, she reached her street in less than fifteen minutes, cursing herself for allowing thoughts of Sean to manifest into a sighting.

After showering and slipping into work clothes, she pulled a bagel from the freezer and popped it into the toaster. Then she turned on the news, hoping the noise would fill her mind and block out the echoing sound of the explosion still ringing in her ears.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Kat Sikes stepped out of the conference room affectionately known as the War Room. In the ranks of the S.O.S. agents, shouting matches made it appear more like a war than a meeting of the minds. The good news was that everyone had a voice in the organization and no one was afraid to speak.

Still wearing the shorts and T-shirt from his morning jog, Sean had hoped to reach the locker room and shower on the fourth floor of the S.O.S. operations center without being waylaid. He stopped and faced Kat, his chest tightening at the dark circles beneath her eyes. “I was out jogging.”

“Now don’t look at me as though I’m going to fall apart.” She reached up and cupped his chin. “I’m okay. Really.”

“I worry about you.”

“I know. But I’m doing much better.” Kat smiled, although her lips were a little tight and her eyes were suspiciously bright. “Royce is looking for you.” Before he could respond, she turned back to the conference room and shut the door behind her.

Sean sucked in a deep breath and let it out. How long would it take to get over Marty’s death? The man had been his friend ever since they’d been in the military together. Marty had been the one to introduce him to Royce and the other S.O.S. agents, giving him a new purpose in life since his discharge from the Army Special Forces unit.

Marty married S.O.S. agent Kat Jenkins over a year ago after a very stormy courtship and almost getting her killed on a mission. Sean had stood beside Marty as his best man.

Forcing air past the tightness in his chest, Sean reminded himself to breathe. A terrorist set off that bomb at the embassy. A terrorist was responsible for Marty’s death.

If he’d been on time that day, he’d have died with Marty, a situation he preferred over the gut-gnawing guilt he harbored for his friend’s death. He should have died, too. Then he wouldn’t have to see Kat’s sad eyes or listen to her sobs in the night. She’d moved into one of the spare apartments in the upper level of the S.O.S. building shortly after Marty’s funeral. Right down the hall from Sean’s apartment.

He’d heard her crying when she thought no one was around and he blamed himself every day since the bombing for losing focus on the mission.

When he’d woken in the hospital late in the night, he’d arranged for his body to be transferred to the morgue, forging the paperwork indicating his own “death” and resurfacing under another persona to arrange for the immediate transfer of Marty’s body back to the States. It was the least he could do for his friend when all he could wish for was to take Marty’s place so that Marty could be with his wife, alive and well.

He’d spent the next month hunting down leads on the terrorist responsible for the attack, pushing aside his longing for the woman he’d let get in the way of his duty. If he hadn’t been with TJ that morning, he would have arrived on time. Maybe he’d have found the bomb or seen the terrorist coming or going from the embassy. Or perhaps he would have died in the explosion.

Since the attack, he’d made it his mission to discover who was behind the bombing and bring them down. Sean had already located Manu Attakora, a known terrorist-for-hire in Dindi. He’d found Manu’s apartment with the terrorist dead inside, as if someone had been a step ahead of him in his search. Witnesses mentioned a dark-haired Anglo businessman seen coming and going from the apartment in the days prior to the bombing, but no one could give him a name.

Disappointed he didn’t have the terrorist to question, Sean had located a laptop in Manu’s apartment. He hoped it was the one Manu had used to communicate with the person who’d contracted him. Sean brought the computer back to the States and turned it over to S.O.S.’s resident computer guru. They hoped to have the files decrypted soon.

Back in the States, he’d done everything in his power to avoid running into a certain legislative assistant. His memories of TJ burned in his gut each day following the bombing. Damn it! He was an S.O.S. agent, not a fool in love.

Fools got killed or, through their actions or lack of actions, got others killed. As far as he was concerned, his involvement with TJ Barton was history and was not to be repeated.

Never mind that her face haunted his every memory and that the smell of springtime in D.C. reminded him of the scent of her hair. Today, jogging on the towpath along the C&O Canal, he felt her presence. She was here in D.C. and, even as large as the city was, with as many people working there daily, he stood a chance of seeing her again. A shorter haircut and sunglasses helped alter his appearance, but the woman wasn’t dumb.

He chose to jog early in the morning to avoid any chance of running into her—or anyone else for that matter. Yet, even early in the morning, there were plenty of people getting their daily exercise. The beautiful weather brought out all manner of joggers, bicyclers and people out rowing.

He didn’t know what he’d say if he ran into TJ. How would he explain to her his sudden “death” and reappearance? If the terrorists hadn’t been aiming for Dindi’s prime minister or Congressman Haddock and instead had wanted the S.O.S. team out of the way, he wanted to make sure they thought they’d accomplished the job.

As Sean passed through the office area, Casanova Valdez looked up from his terminal. “Hola, McNeal.” He leaped to his feet and pulled Sean into a big bear hug. “Heard you were back.” Valdez hugged him like he hugged everyone, with a lot of backslapping and exuberance. From a large Latin-American family, he wasn’t embarrassed by blatant demonstrations of emotion. “It’s good to see you in one piece.”

Sean suffered through the embrace, putting distance between them as soon as Valdez let go.

“Hey, Sean.” Nicole Steele’s voice, as smooth as liquid chocolate, drew his attention. Her nickname in the agency was Tazer for a good reason. Her soft blond hair and blue-gray eyes had deceived more than one unsuspecting male. Known for her deadly self-defense techniques, Tazer could take down a man twice her size and he’d never know what hit him. Thank goodness she was loyal to the S.O.S. team.

Sean nodded a greeting.

“Sorry about Marty.” She gave him a weak smile. “It’s good to have you back.”

Damn. He should have jogged earlier to avoid this kind of reception. He didn’t want the ranks of the S.O.S. converging on him. Not yet.

“It’s good to be back.” Although he said the words, he didn’t mean them. Maybe he’d stayed in Dindi so long to avoid just such a meeting with the rest of the S.O.S. team. The organization was small, consisting of one leader and less than twenty agents. Some were out on assignment. The others gathered around him.

The walls closed in on Sean. He needed air.

“Sean, glad you’re back.” Royce stepped out of his office. “I want to talk to you.”

Glad for an escape, Sean eased through the team to stand in front of Royce. “That’s what Kat said.”

Royce motioned toward his office. “Why don’t you come in and take a seat?”

Sean glanced down at his sweaty clothes and running shoes. “So long as you don’t mind a little sweat.”

“Not at all.” He patted his tight abdomen. “Need to get out and exercise myself. I spend entirely too much time behind the desk.”

Sean followed the older man into his office and dropped into a brown leather armchair.

Royce didn’t have a spare ounce of flesh on his body. He was as tough and athletic as when he’d left the Navy SEALs ten years ago. “I know how personally you’ve taken Marty’s death in Dindi, and I admit I’m concerned.”

“Don’t be. I’m going to find who killed him if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Yeah, but you might lose yourself in the process. You threw yourself into the investigation before you’d fully recovered, and you haven’t taken any time off to decompress.”

Sean frowned. He didn’t like the way this conversation was going. “You can’t take me off this case. I was there. I have to find who did this.”

Royce raised a hand. “Relax. I won’t take you off. But I want you to know I’m watching you. If you show any signs of cracking, I’ll yank you off this case so fast you won’t know what hit you. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Sean breathed in a deep breath and let it out. “Is that why you asked me in here?”