Page 12 of D-Day

“Push me away and slap me as hard as you can,” he murmured so no one could hear him, in the deepest voice on the planet. And in an Australian accent that sounded like he’d been born down under.

She tipped her head back and met his dark gaze and felt herself leaning toward him, as if he were drawing her by some personal magnetic force. His gaze slid down to her mouth and lingered there, shockingly frank in its appraisal.

Feeling as if her heart had stopped working, she stared at him, her mind screeching to a halt. “Wha-a-t?” she asked in exasperation. She didn’t want to hurt him—that was the last thing on her mind, even though she had to acknowledge that she had hurt him in so many ways. But now he was asking her to hurt him physically. Helen struggled to squash the reaction, a thick ache stuffing up her chest, giving herself a stern lecture on the way the world worked.

His gaze roamed over her face as if trying to scrape away the layers and see deeper. She felt suddenly hemmed in, as if darkness had descended around them, closing out the jungle, the danger. It made her nerves keen, sentient, her body shift into his as if that’s where she belonged. Frowning down at her, he didn’t back off, and she had the urge to touch his hard jaw.

Taer, Lando, her brother, and several men watched them intently. She was also aware that Greg, Monique, and the other doctors were watching the whole thing. She threw a quick look over her shoulder, aware of Gregg’s posture. She signaled him with her eyes. If he intervened, and D-Day had to engage with him, there was only one way that would go…badly.

He latched onto her arm and her head whipped around. He wasn’t at all gentle. His entire body vibrated with aggressionbarely held in check. “Fucking push me away and slap me hard,now,” he demanded.

That finally got to her. She yanked free, shoving against his chest to get him to step back, and it was like trying to move a bulldozer. Lifting her chin and setting her resolve, she braced herself.

The slap connected solidly with his cheek and snapped his head to the side. The blow was so hard, the palm of her hand stung and burned. Her heart pounded, adrenaline racing through her system, and for an instant, she didn’t know where she was. She remained perfectly still, the disoriented feeling fading when she saw her brother’s body tense. All hell was going to break loose if someone didn’t dispel this tension.

Suddenly, D-Day tipped his head back and laughed, and Helen experienced a sudden buzzing sensation that made her catch her breath. It was the first time she’d heard him really laugh, but she realized almost immediately that this was a show—the humor never reached those blue eyes, yet even then, his laughter transformed his face, she thought dazedly. Beneath the sober demeanor, and the solemn weight of responsibility, there was another Andrew Nolan, one who was even more appealing, and the buzzing turned into a full-blown intoxication.

Buck visibly relaxed as D-Day turned toward the men and roared, then flexed those thick biceps. “That is a feisty bird. She needs a strong hand,” he said, turning back to her.

Most people would consider feisty a compliment as it was associated with gutsy, strong, out there, aggressive, but the way he used it was anything but. Feisty was actually first used in dogfighting to indicate a small, excitable dog. The word came fromfeist, meaning dog. He was calling her a dog…a bitch. Not a big bitch, a small, excitable bitch, but still a bitch.

Greg appeared at her shoulder, and he must have had quite a look on his face, one that challenged D-Day. His eyes flashedand his hand rested on the butt of his gun. She held Greg back. “Don’t be an idiot,” she hissed.

“Yeah,” D-Day said, a hard gaze focusing on Greg. “Idiots don’t last long in the jungle.” His eyes flicked back to her. “Why don’t you join our band? I could use a…nurselike you.” Again, his tone was derogatory, and every man there knew what use he was talking about…on her back with her legs spread. He was subtle but got his point across.

She gritted her teeth, settling into this dangerous game they were playing with a hard glare, one corner of her mouth curling into a subtle sneer. Very slowly, and very deliberately, she raised her middle finger. “I’m sure you have no shortage of…nurses,” she said softly, mockingly, not giving up an inch of ground.

This time, his smile went all the way to those bottomless blue eyes, his expression intense. She felt as if those eyes were reaching right into her soul. “Let’s go,” she said, knowing that this was getting way too out of hand between them.

Before she could go far, Taer stepped into her path. “I will kill him for you when our business is complete. He is a pig.”

She gasped at the thought of D-Day’s death, that terrible fear rising up, tightening her skin, pushing her heartbeat up several notches. Letting the warlord think it was her delicate sensibilities, she looked away. “No. I’m sure he’ll find someone else to manhandle. But thank you.” She had no idea if that was the right response. She certainly didn’t want to anger him or sic him on D-Day. She resisted the urge to look back as D-Day shouted over the sneers and chuckles rumbling behind him. “G’day, love.”

“What is his name?” she asked.

Taer looked at her impassively. “Graham Butler. You don’t want to know him, lady.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “No, I don’t.” But her heart warred with those words. She had him for such a short period oftime in a situation that wasn’t conducive to exchanging secrets and getting to know him better. It had been so physical. Maybe both of them realized that adding anything personal to the situation would make it even more unbearable to be apart.

The sound of blades beating the air made them look up. The big, sleek black chopper came into view, low and slow over the area. It was armed with some dangerous-looking guns. She looked over her shoulder as D-Day, her brother and another man headed for the vehicle. The black machine lowered to the ground on its skids, a big man standing in the doorway, armed and ready for anything. More Navy SEALs? Most likely his teammates.

There were going to be repercussions from her stumbling into a JSOC undercover operation, but she wasn’t much concerned with that. She could keep her mouth closed. What she couldn’t do was abandon her job. She’d taken a vow, and she intended to keep to it.

The trip back to their accommodations close to the hospital was uneventful.

“You all right?” Monique asked. “That whole experience was wicked bad.”

“I’m a little shaken up, but I’ll recover.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t be?”

“Helen, you are a rock, the bravest person I know and that’s saying something with the business we’re in. You looked as in control and tough as nails against that…scary dude. I thought I was going to die when you flipped him the bird.”

D-Day scared her on many levels, but not for the reasons Monique thought.

“He deserved it,” she said.

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