Unbeatable Love Page 10

  She liked that idea, but by the time they had walked to the end of the hall, she was exhausted.

  Marcus kissed her on the forehead. “Go get ready for bed. I’m going to give you a glass of water so you can take these pills.” He opened his hand and showed her two packets. She could’ve kissed him right then, but he left her at her bedroom door.

  She staggered into the bathroom, removed her makeup and slid into a soft teddy. She couldn’t wait for Marcus to take it off her. Crawling between the cool sheets, she decided she’d just lay her head down a minute. She woke briefly when Marcus called her name. He helped her sit up in bed so she could take the pills. She laid her head back down, just needing to close her eyes a minute, then she and Marcus could pick up where they left off in the Knights of Columbus office.

  She really liked Marcus. As in really liked him. He was the most caring person she’d ever met. He had sacrificed himself for days to help Harper and she was just a team member. She wondered what he would do for someone he loved.

  A dagger slice of light cut through the curtain, illuminating her bedroom.

  Tori rolled over and opened her eyes a slit, just enough so she could see the clock on her bed stand.

  Holy fuck. It was one o’clock in the afternoon. She stretched her hand out hoping to find Marcus but touched nothing but cold sheets. Rolling to her elbow she stared at the smooth pillows. Not even one wrinkle. Hadn’t Marcus slept with her last night? Didn’t he want to have sex with her?

  She swung her legs out of bed and padded out to the living room to see if he had slept out there. No sign of him. Thirsty, she headed to the kitchen. On her refrigerator, the clip magnet that usually held her grocery list now contained a note from Marcus.

  Your couch is more comfortable than my bed. You were sleeping so peacefully this morning I couldn’t bear to wake you. Sheets are in your washing machine and pillow is back in the linen closet. I had a wonderful time last night. Call me and let me know you’re okay. Marcus.

  She made herself two pieces of toast, grabbed the glass of ice water, and headed back to bed. She’d call Marcus later. As she passed her couch she smiled.

  Yep. Nicest guy she’d ever known.

  A little piece of her heart locked into place.

  Chapter 10

  Marcus double checked the text with the address as he walked through the older section of the city. Most people were headed in his direction, so he had some degree of confidence. He wondered if Tori worked in this building. Seeing her again would be wonderful.

  She had texted him late Sunday night explaining that she’d slept almost the entire day. Part of him wished he could be more cavalier, but even though she had begged him to crawl into bed with her Saturday night, he couldn’t do it. She was so drunk he doubted she’d even remember that conversation. He refused to take advantage of any woman under the influence.

  Besides, Tori meant more to him than a quick fuck. He wanted her to be able to say no, especially if she was revolted by all his scars that would be revealed if they were naked. Completely without clothes, nothing covered or hidden, bare in every way possible, both of them vulnerable, that’s the way he wanted to make love to Tori. As far as he was concerned, it would be making love. He loved her…as a friend. Sex with someone you knew was very different than intercourse with a practical stranger like a bar pick-up.

  Looking up at the aging brick building with Department of Homeland Security embossed into the gray marble sign, Marcus once again hoped he had the correct location. DHS was scattered across Washington D.C. and they had changed the location at six o’clock that morning. Stepping inside he felt like he was late for a flight. The security check post was a replica of that found at any major airport, including the full body scanning tubes.

  Great. Since his encounter with the now defunct Narváez cartel, his body had enough metal in it to set off several alarms. He stepped into the long, winding non-employee line. He checked his watch and hoped he had enough time. Since he’d ridden the Metro into the city, he had automatically added thirty extra minutes to his commute. In retrospect, perhaps he should have driven, but parking is always a bitch inside the Beltway.

  Everyone shuffled slowly through the stanchions as time ticked away. If the line didn’t hurry up, he’d be late for the briefing. A woman with beautiful silver hair to her chin and sharp blue eyes made a beeline for him. Pushing sixty, hard, she reminded him of his Aunt Nadine. Feisty and take no sass, especially from his boisterous cousins, the woman had worked as a legal secretary for all of his life. But it was the delicious sugar cookies she made for holidays, and let everyone in the family decorate their own, that made him smile as the staunch woman approached.

  With a straight back, she practically came to attention in front of him. “Mr. Marcus Hernandez?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He suddenly wondered if they had also moved up the time of the meeting and he was already late. He wanted to pull out his phone and check for a new text but didn’t believe the woman would tolerate that interruption.

  “Come with me, please.” She unhooked the fabric belt from the stanchion and immediately refastened it after he stepped through.

  Marcus followed her to the far side of the security gate where men and women in expensive suits stood in a very short line, waiting their turn to walk through a narrow arch.

  “This is our executive entrance.” She pointed to his briefcase. “If you have a weapon in there, you must declare it to the officer. It will be scanned as you step through that archway. We don’t care if you have a gun, we just need to know in advance that you do.”

  The line moved very quickly. She gestured for him to go first.

  “No weapon, just papers,” he announced to the armed, uniformed guard who nodded in reply. It took Marcus three steps to exit the elongated arch. He turned and waited for his guide.

  “Morning, Joshua.” She opened the navy-blue suit jacket. “My little girl, Kimber, is still by my side.”

  Marcus was shocked that the woman carried a pistol holstered on her hip. He hadn’t noticed that she was carrying. He was either slipping or her suit had been custom made to hide her weapon. He hoped it was the latter, but he had not been in the field in nearly two years. He shuddered at the memories of hunting explosive materials all over Colombia, being ambushed at Bogotá airport by the cartel capos, then captured shortly after they had landed back in the United States. He would bear the internal and external scars of his kidnapping forever.

  “Right this way, Mr. Hernandez.” For a woman her age, she was in extremely good shape because Marcus had a hard time keeping up with her as she dodged around slower walkers and people talking in the hallway. She flung open the door and strode inside. Pointing to an empty chair at the large conference table, she gave a nod to the men at the front of the room.

  “I see we’re all here, let’s get started.” The man in the thousand-dollar suit at the head of the table stood. “I’m Jack Ashworth, director of the Operations Center here at Homeland Security, and chairman of this joint task force.”

  While everyone else was getting the same briefing he’d seen on Friday, including the gruesome pictures, Marcus checked his watch and his texts. The meeting time had not moved up and he had arrived nearly fifteen minutes early. Good. It wasn’t him.

  “We tracked the uranium to the Port of Miami.” A picture of a large ship appeared on the flat screen behind Ashworth. “We believe it was loaded onto this ship heading for Honduras.” The handsome man scowled. “We’re not sure though. The Geiger counters were going crazy all over the port. Customs didn’t have any idea why, but they are running down each and every positive reading. Tracking down these warheads is Homeland’s number one priority.”

  “Director Ashworth, if I may interrupt, what kind of Geiger counters were you using?” Marcus knew the limitations of standard machines. False negatives were extremely common as were false positives.

  “We have the newest version.” Jack looked at him as though he were an
idiot.

  Marcus hated know-it-all asses like this guy. “Sir, I don’t know if you’re aware that a standard Geiger counter will go crazy if a person had a stress test using barium. The human body can remain radioactive for a week afterwards. It will also give false negatives if it isn’t reset after a positive hit.” Now for the trump card. “Was your equipment set for alpha or gamma radiation?”

  The task force chairman looked stumped.

  Good. Marcus was relatively sure that Jack Ashworth was rarely questioned.

  “Are you saying that the detection equipment the federal government spent millions of dollars purchasing can’t identify nuclear materials?” Ashworth tried to pin him with his gaze, but Marcus wasn’t intimidated.

  “Sir, what I’m saying is that the equipment found in most ports will click like a drum roll on a pallet of kitty litter and completely miss the semi-trailer filled with radioactive materials.” Marcus inhaled a breath before he continued. “For the safety of everyone involved in the transport and placement of the uranium or plutonium, they are shipped in protective casings. Unless your customs officers were standing right next to the box, and the device was extremely sensitive to gamma ray detection, it may register only minor clicks.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Ashworth rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “Why didn’t anyone tell us this before?”

  “The good news is, we can probably borrow the correct detector from the Oak Ridge National Lab in Tennessee or the Navy loading dock,” Marcus suggested.

  Dash Lawson spoke up for the first time. “We have the equipment you need at the Department of Energy, but we don’t have trained operatives for going into a foreign country hunting stolen uranium or plutonium.” He looked at Marcus. “Sorry, but before you ask, I can neither confirm nor deny which nuclear material was in that semi-trailer. We contract out the protection of the warheads as they’re transported to secret locations for arming military missiles, but I don’t even know if those guys are trained for something like this.”

  Jack’s grin was not welcoming. “Not a problem. Mr. Hernandez, our representative from the Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives Agency is part of their international team. Marcus, I suggest you get one of those machines today.” His grin widened into a sadistic smile. “And thank you so much for volunteering to go with our team to Honduras to check out that shipment.”

  What the fuck? Marcus hadn’t volunteered for any such thing. He worked behind a desk these days and still spent three hours a week in physical therapy.

  “I’m on the international team because I speak Spanish. I’m a negotiator, not a trained special operator.” Honduras was too damn close to Columbia and the cartels for Marcus’s peace of mind.

  “No problem. We’re going to send some highly trained special operators with you to protect your ass.” Jack started to collect his papers. “You just find the uranium, or plutonium, or whatever the hell was on that hijacked trailer. We’ll do the rest.” He looked at everyone else surrounding the table. “Does anyone else have anything to offer?”

  Mumbles of “No.” and “No, sir,” instantly replied.

  “Good. Then we can adjourn.” Jack didn’t bother to look up. Everyone quickly collected the handouts and closed their laptops.

  “Mr. Hernandez. A moment of your time, please.” Jack stood staring as the last man left the room, closing the door behind him.

  “You’re leaving tonight, so go home and pack.” He was silent for a moment as though considering his next suggestion. “You might want to get some sleep because you’ll be in Central America within hours after takeoff. Report to Marine Corps Base Quantico Virginia at exactly ten-thirty tonight. You will be cleared through the gate and escorted to the plane.”

  Marcus wanted to groan. He’d ridden troop transports before. They were loud, and quite often cold. The U.S. government, and especially the Marine Corps, didn’t waste money on heating the inside of a KC 130 when that money could be used to pay for jet fuel and bullets.

  Although he thought it was a little strange that they would take off in the middle of the night, the United States military operated twenty-four seven. For all intents and purposes, he was just hitching a ride. The fact he needed a team of special operators had him more worried about what he was going to find once they landed.

  Two hours later, he finished folding another shirt before picking up his ringing phone. He didn’t hold back the smile as he looked at the caller ID. “Perfect timing. I was just about to call you.”

  “I know we were supposed to get together soon, but I’ve been called out of town. I’m so sorry.” He could hear the regret in Tori’s voice.

  “Don’t feel too bad, please. I was going to call you to tell you the same thing.” He zipped up the duffel and carried it to the door. “I’m hoping I’ll only be gone a few days.”

  “I’m not sure how long we’ll be gone.” She sighed heavily. “Damn it. I was really hoping we could get together tonight. Maybe grab some supper…and pick up where we left off before I started doing shots at the wedding. Which reminds me, thank you for being such a gentleman; seeing me home safely, making sure I took the pills, leaving a glass of water on my nightstand. That was so sweet of you.”

  “Yeah, that’s me. Your sweet friend.” He hoped she didn’t hear the aggravation in his voice. He hated being put in the friend zone, especially by her.

  “I’ll give you a call as soon as we get back, and we’ll go out to dinner.” She sounded excited about the idea.

  “Let’s do that,” he agreed.

  “I really want to see you again,” she said just above a whisper. “Marcus, I had a great time at the wedding. Well, up until I started doing shots.” Her giggle was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.

  “You were pretty smashed. How about we forgo shots when we go out? Maybe catch a movie?” He suggested.

  “Maybe,” she said coyly. “But if I’m going to be with you in the dark, I’d rather be naked and breathing hard. I want to pick up exactly where we left off in the manager’s office on Saturday night with me bent over, and you…” She trailed off. “That’s what I want you to think about until the next time we’re together.”

  “I promise, I’ll think about you.” Then he added, “Stay safe. I want that dinner when we get back.”

  “I’ll call you when we’re on our way back to the United States,” Tori assured before she hung up.

  Marcus laid down on the bed, taking Jack Ashworth’s advice about a nap. The image of Tori’s perfect, rounded ass completely exposed to him, her wet folds ready, her flawless face looking at him over her shoulder, was a picture burned into his brain forever. If he thought about her like that until he saw her again, he’d have the worst case of blue balls on the planet.

  He was hard as granite. He couldn’t fall asleep thinking of her and it could be weeks, maybe even months, before she offered him relief. He slid his hands into his boxers and closed his eyes. He could imagine her soft delicate hand gripping his cock, his hand on top of hers, showing her what he liked. It didn’t take long at all until he burst with memories of the way Tori’s whole body had shaken as he brought her through her orgasm. Next time, she would fall asleep in his arms, only to awaken and do it all again in a different position.

  Eight hours later, the armed Marine sitting in his passenger seat instructed him to pull into a parking space next to a hanger in need of a coat of fresh paint. “The package has arrived,” he said into a handheld communications unit. “Do not get out of the car until told to do so,” he warned Marcus.

  Security on the MCB Quantico was always tight near the small airstrip because the presidential helicopters were kept there. With an armed guard standing ten feet away next to a door, and two more walking the building perimeter, Marcus had no intention of getting out of his car.

  The door cracked, but Marcus couldn’t see who the guard spoke to.

  “You can get out now. Grab your bags, lock the car, and the door guard will le
t you inside.” The Marine from the gate exited the vehicle and hopped into one that had pulled up.

  Large duffel in hand, one gun at the small of his back and the other strapped to his ankle, Marcus wondered if he’d be searched. The two weapons were standard operating procedure for the ATF international team. The door opened as though by magic.

  Stepping into a brightly lit, state-of-the-art hanger, Marcus was sure his jaw was hanging open. Only one airplane sat in the middle of all that space. The sleek black Gulfstream 550 looked more like a billionaire’s personal jet than an airplane owned by the United States government. It was at the absolute opposite end of the spectrum from the troop transport he had expected.

  The external hold was open and a woman in a black pilot uniform was loading several large black duffle bags and a forty-pound bag of dog food. Her brown hair was pulled back to the nape of her neck into a standard military bun, the rest hidden under a black ball cap.

  “Marcus, everything you see and hear from this point on is highly classified.” He instantly recognized Katlin Callahan’s voice and smiled as he turned to greet his friend.

  She held out her hand. “I’m Lady Hawk. You’ll meet the rest of the team shortly.” She glanced at the Marines who were stationed in each corner. “I’ll explain everything once we’re in the air,” she said just above a whisper, barely moving her lips.

  Returning to a normal voice she explained, “Just knowing our existence can get you killed…and us.” She gestured to the open hold. “Take anything you’re going to need for the next three hours from your bag then give it to Lady Harrier. Keep in mind we will be briefing constantly on the way to Central America.” Katlin shook Marcus’s hand as though they were strangers. “I’ll meet you on board.”

  With his briefcase in one hand, Marcus set his heavy duffel on the shiny concrete floor. Following Katlin’s lead, he held out his hand. “Marcus Hernandez.”

  Nita rolled her eyes and pasted on a smile. “Lady Harrier. Nice to meet you, Marcus.” She bent to take his bag.