Page 21 of Duty Bound

He glanced at his watch, badly scratched by the tunnel—oh five twenty. By now, the rest of his team would have been extracted from the RV point, and the hostages would be enjoying a cold soda on their flight back home.

Mission accomplished.

All except his part.

He laid Lily gently on the floor, folded up a blanket, then placed it under her head. She stirred but didn't wake.

He smiled when he saw a note in Pat's barely legible scrawl on the table.

Glad you made it out. Left you some supplies. Good luck—and thank you.

It was unsigned. No clue for the enemy in case they’d found the cabin before Blade had made it back here.

The supplies were in the backpacks. Blade began to unpack them, taking an inventory. Rations and water, a first-aid kit, five pounds of Semtex including detonators, stun grenades, hand grenades, blankets, a sleeping bag, and a small gas cooker—everything an SF operative would need behind enemy lines. Unfortunately, but for obvious reasons, they’d taken the radio equipment with them. It wouldn’t do to have that falling into the wrong hands.

Blade secured the premises as best he could. He set an early warning system outside using a tiny amount of explosive, so if anyone approached the cabin, he’d hear them. Next, he bolted the door from the inside. Once satisfied with his security measures, he finally sat to eat and drink something.

The last forty-eight hours had been intense. Pat had been right to ask for his help. Blade had mobilized the guys almost immediately. No one had needed much convincing.

He’d called Phoenix first. The former Navy SEAL had left the unit earlier this year after an operation in Iran went south. Blade didn’t know all the details, but it sounded like Phoenix had gone against his instinct and followed orders, and people had died. Soldiers had died. He couldn’t carry on after that.

Boomer was also itching for action. Six months ago, in a twist of fate, he’d taken two bullets to the chest in an op that went south. In addition to spending a month in hospital coughing up blood, and another two rebuilding his strength, he’d been ordered to compulsory therapy sessions. His military career was over. To say he was pissed was an understatement. Boomer lived for the action, and as an explosives expert, was calm and steadfast, a real benefit to any team.

Then there was Viper, a former sniper, deadly, insanely accurate. He’d been out for a year already. When Blade had called about the unofficial op, he’d jumped at the chance.

Damn shame he hadn’t gotten Lily out of that cave in time to make the RV. Still, after what had happened on his last mission, he wasn’t about to risk his team getting blown to bits. Better this way.

He couldn’t add any more dead men to the ones he already carried around in his head. He would just have to get Lily out of Afghanistan alone.

Blade yawned. Christ, he was tired. He'd been awake since the flight to Afghanistan the previous night, and while he'd been through worse, that faint sense of disassociation that came with severe fatigue was setting in.

He looked at Lily curled up on the blanket. As he watched her sleep, her curvaceous form began to swim before his eyes. He needed some shut eye. Sighing, he lay down next to her then pulled the extra blanket over them both. Within seconds, he was out.

“Joe…” It was little more than a soft moan in his ear.

Must be dreaming.

Then an arm snaked over his chest, and there was no mistaking Lily’s whisper. “Joe.”

Eyes wide open, he lay stock still, heart thumping. Should he wake her? She’d been so exhausted she’d passed out a mile from the cabin. Clearly she needed the rest. They couldn’t go anywhere until it got dark anyway.

“Mmm…” She snuggled into him, her hair soft against his cheek, her hand stroking his chest. Her touch was light, tantalizing, erotic. What the hell was she doing?

His dick didn’t know either but decided to rise to the occasion, just in case.

Fuck.

Okay. Time to wake up.

He lay a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle shake. “Lily, wake up.”

“Uh-uh,” she murmured and nuzzled some more.

Goddamn if he didn't want to pull her into his arms. Hold her, nurture her, devour her. But he wasn’t Joe.

“Lily,” he said louder. In response, her hand moved lower, caressing his stomach. He groaned. She was killing him. “Lily, wake up.”

“I don't want to,” she muttered, draping a leg over his.

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