Page 29 of Breaking Danger
“And I have gone over plans with Snyder and my men. We’re bringing in refugees and Eric is overseeing a fast extension to the structure. By tonight there will be a hall large enough for everyone to sleep and we’ve set up communal showers. A platoon in ten up-armored Humvees has gone out to a ranching town fifty miles outside Bakersfield. We’re in radio contact and apparently they’re holding their own. The platoon won’t be back before dawn. There’s nothing more I can do and there’s nothing more you can do right now. I don’t think I can even act on what you felt just now, but by God I’d like to lie down and hold you in my arms. I need you in my arms, Stella.”
She rubbed her face against his neck and he could feel wetness. Stella wouldn’t want anyone to see her crying so he simply held her for a long moment while men and women hurried past with supplies in ordered chaos.
Finally she lifted her head and those famous eyes—a brilliant turquoise—smiled at him.
“Let’s go lie down,” she said huskily.
“Together,” he said. Right then he made a vow to himself. For whatever time they had left—and it might be only a day—he was going to spend every night at this woman’s side.
She nodded. “Together. Oh yeah.”
CHAPTERSIX
San Francisco
Beach Street
She was solight in his arms. It surprised him.
She seemed so…invincible. He’d been at the Arka Pharmaceutical headquarters building as the infection had broken out. He and Nick had barely gotten out alive, and they were highly trained warriors. She’d not only broken away from her captors, she’d taken the time to search for the original virus and the vaccine, fighting both Arka’s security goons and the infected.
And then she’d made her way across a city in chaos.
Trapped in her home, she’d spent her time studying the infected and already had pointers which were going to help them evade the enemy. Were already proving useful to the Haven team out in the field.
Now, this was Ghost Ops terrain. They’d been trained and trained hard to study and understand the enemy. When he’d been undercover in Columbia, he’d studied thejefesand the muscle so much he knew everything about them, down to their diet, their bowel movements, the women they really fucked, the women they pretended to. What they bought, who they bought. He knew it all. Nothing had escaped his notice, nothing.
And yet, flying over infected terrain, it hadn’t even occurred to him to try to study patterns. Ok, he was flying over the terrain pretty fast but he hadn’t been thinking of anything but getting to Sophie Daniels before a monster ate her face. Still, he could have observed movements, migrations patterns, drawn some conclusions.
He was heartsick, but that wasn’t an excuse. Sophie’d been heartsick too and she had pages and pages of observations.
So besides being as beautiful as a movie star, she was smart and brave. Resourceful, rational.
And, oh so delicate.
He could feel this in his arms. When they’d had frantic sex right after he fell into her apartment he’d been too blasted with survivor’s lust, guided by his combat boner, to notice much of anything besides how good she felt and how good she tasted.
But now?
Now he could feel how incredibly delicate she was, one arm around a slender torso, the other under long slender legs. Everything about her was fragile, hidden before because she was so smart and so courageous. Her soft cotton tee gaped open, showing the delicate collar bones, the narrow shoulders. Such courage, such spirit in such a fragile body.
Jon didn’t have to ask where the bedroom was. Away from the door with its potpourri and scented candles and air freshener sprays, there was another source of good smells and he simply followed his nose.
Good soldiers have a keen sense of smell and he was one of the best. He simply followed the scent for the room that smelled of Sophie. There was a short corridor and he nudged the door with his foot and… bingo!
The blinds were drawn, one small light on a dresser, the rest in shadow. It was a girly girl’s room and he nearly smiled. The bed was an ode to femininity—frills and flounces and floral sheets and a billion pillows. Most unusual for a no-nonsense scientist.
He looked down at her and finally smiled. It was genuine, a light hearted moment while the world burned around them. Jon’s few smiles were a cynic’s smile. He had no illusions about the world and the people in it. There were a lot of things he found grimly humorous—the hypocrisy most people tried badly to hide. The greedy, grasping nature of most people. People were like children, with uncontrollable urges and appetities. If you had a cynic’s sense of humor, the world was a feast.
But right now, he had an extraordinarily beautiful and brave and smart woman in his arms, who had shown nothing but a sense of sacrifice. His usual cynicism somehow wouldn’t kick in. His smile reflected how good she felt in his arms, how pretty that bed was, what they were going to do on that bed.
Sophie’s hand cupped his cheek. “You smile.”
He moved his head until her hand covered his mouth, then kissed the palm of her hand. “Look carefully because it doesn’t happen often.”
“No.” Her own smile disappeared. “Not much to smile about right now.”
Jon placed her carefully on the bed, like depositing a jewel in its box. “Well, rightrightnow, things aren’t looking so bad.”
