Page 15 of D-Day

D-Day triedwith all his might not to be affected by Helen…again…for the thousandth time or was that now in the millions?

He sat in the van anchoring her with his body, making sure nothing could jolt her again. He wouldn’t survive her falling across his lap like that again. He worked at being frozen, keeping his eyes front and center, but his problem was that six months hadn’t lessened her effect on him. He felt choked by it. When he was compelled against his will to turn his head to look at her, he got the full impact of her pale face, the illuminated blonde hair flowing wildly past her shoulders. Her skin looked incredibly smooth, tanned, and his gaze slid to her throat, then dove lower as rounded shapes filled out the yellow cotton, the gauzy fabric draping her muscled thighs.

She was still gorgeous in a way that kicked his ass every time. More striking than delicate. Everything about her was vibrant, and very headstrong, as evidenced when she’d stood up to him in a precarious position and gave him the finger without compunction. Smart enough and brave enough to follow his lead. His cheek had stung for a bit from the force she’d deliveredthat blow. Part of him felt like he deserved it, especially after the way he’d ghosted her following Buck’s wedding reception.

He frowned, dragging his gaze from her and staring at nothing in particular as he remembered every moment that had brought them here to this place and the danger they were all in. He hated how much risk associated with this op could fall on her, like when their worlds had clashed in the middle of nowhere jungle. What were the fucking odds?

So, this wasn’t about him and Helen, except for the fact that she was a security risk, and they had to lock that down. This was about nuclear triggers, dead Americans and Filipinos, and possibly a devastating environmental disaster if even one of those bombs went off.

The van jolted to a stop, and his hand tightened, then loosened from her waist. Zorro muscled the door open, and he and Buck were moving with his sister. Her eyes darted around, her face going a little pale under her tan. Just on the edge of their compound lay the dense, dangerous jungle and the elongated building, blackened windows, the sleek chopper tucked into one of the hangars.

She tripped, and almost fell, him and Buck keeping her upright. Without warning, Helen turned and glared at Bear. “You ripped my dress, you oaf.” She bent down and pulled at the hem, ripping the rest of it away with one savage pull. “I loved this dress. Now it’s ruined with this cloak-and-dagger shit.” She brandished the scrap of cloth at him. “Couldn’t you have just said,Hey, your brother wants to talk to you?I saw him at the camp with D-Day. I knew he was here. Why does this have to be so complicated?”

Bear’s impassive face gave away nothing, but there was just barely a sheen of humor in his dark eyes. The big man didn’t get knocked off course much. He was as solid as a mountain. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we love cloak and dagger shit as much asyou love your dress.” He slid a side glance to Buck. “And we got word that you might argue. So, we were trying to be proactive in curbing your tendency for being…ah…difficult.”

Her glare narrowed in on Buck. “Seriously? My tendency to be difficult…” she bit out. “A phone call would have worked instead of practically kidnapping me at the restaurant and scaring the crap out of me.”

Buck flinched, his look of regret quick. “If you’d answered your phone, that might have worked, but we’re in a crunch here.” He set his hand on the small of her back and started her moving again. His voice was a low whisper. “Sorry we scared you, nugget.”

Another nickname, one more cute and tender. Buck told him that when he first saw Helen after her parents brought her home from the hospital, she gleamed, like a gold nugget. He started calling her that from her infancy but changed to hellion when she’d gotten older. It was apparent that Buck was unhappy about his sister being put in the middle of such a dangerous op.

He had no idea what Bailee wanted to talk to Helen about other than the fact that she had covered their asses, saved them from being unmasked, and scared the living shit out of him. He was sure Helen wouldn’t have said a word to anyone. But he understood Bailee’s caution. She didn’t know them or their team, just what she read in files regarding their past missions. The CIA was all about secrecy, and D-Day was fully aware and on board. He understood classified, and the saying “loose lips sink battleships” had been coined for a reason.

She looked adorably baffled for a moment, then scowled. “Dammit, I left it in my room.” She turned to look at D-Day, her scowl deepening. Her eyes accused him as if it was his fault. “I was distracted,” she growled.

They reached the door to the command center and Buck punched a code into the keypad above the doorknob, thenmarched her through, the hinges quiet as the metal door cut them off from the outside.

Most of the conversation died as they entered. Helen stopped, her gaze sliding around the warehouse. Crude tables were set up around the open space, a coffee service, military laptops, along with file boxes were stacked up on each other. Maps and other tactical data were pinned to the wall above communication equipment, and brown file folders with an official-looking emblem on them were scattered around the room. The lights above illuminated everything.

Voices resumed, phones ringing, the tap of fingers against keyboards, and printers shuttling out papers, military and civilian personnel manning the simple metal chairs pushed up to the portable tables in the center. To the left was a curtained alcove where bunks were lined up twenty deep. Fans whirred in the windows and a stuffy scent permeated the air.

She glanced at her brother. “Home sweet home?”

“There is nothing of home here, Miss Buckard, except the dedication and sacrifice of her patriots. Are you one of them?”

Helen stiffened at Bailee’s strong, firm voice as she strode forward, a woman clearly in charge of all this chaos. She inhaled, clearly insulted. “Are you saying that I would intentionally put my brother and his teammates in danger? I’m not some silly-headed tourist…what is your name, if that’s allowed.”

“Bailee.”

“Bailee. I’m a seasoned nurse who has been in plenty of war-torn and hostile countries working to save lives…all life to me is precious. Especially the lives of my countrymen, and in particular my brother, and D—his teammates. I’ve seen plenty of strife, degradation, and death. So can we bypass the snotty sarcasm, and veiled accusations to get to the reason why the Company brought me here?”

Bailee stared at her for a second, dropping the imperious act, inclining her head. She looked at Buck.

He shrugged. “I told you she wasn’t a pushover.”

The intelligence and the sass in Helen’s eyes were unmistakable. D-Day dropped his head to hide a smile. She was magnificent. “Fair enough. Your brother, D-Day, and Zorro.” She indicated the three men. “Are undercover to prevent a terrible and devastating disaster. I need to know if you said anything to your colleagues about any of them?”

“No. I did not. After D-Day made me slap him to protect their cover, I figured it was too important to reveal anything to anyone. Her hesitation and pained glance in his direction spoke too much volume to a woman who was as cagey and observant as Bailee. Bailee didn’t miss that look, and the speculation in her sharp eyes didn’t bode well for him. “I am well aware of what my brother and D-Day do for a living.”

“Okay, then it might be best for you to head back to the States and get out of this mix.”

Helen shook her head immediately. “No, that’s not possible. For one, my group is adamant about us remaining in our post regardless of our personal relationships. I would have to be severely ill or dead to go back to the US.”

D-Day’s gut clenched when Helen said the word “dead.” Every protective instinct in him rebelled against her statement. He agreed with Bailee.

“Besides. If I disappear after what happened between me and D-Day, don’t you think those warlords are going to get suspicious? Taer already was. He even offered to kill D-Day for me.”

Several of his teammates stiffened, their faces showing what they thought of that concept. “They can fucking try,” Gator said.

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