What a difference six months made. Aislin Blalock lay in tall grass beside a withered rice paddy, staring up at a clear, starlit sky. A billion pinpricks of light scattered across a dark canvas. No moon, thank God. Beautiful, really. But the distant stars only deepened her sense of unreality. In the distance, she heard metallic creaks and groans, as well as the crackle of fire. She had yet to move, afraid adrenaline was giving her brain the wrong signals, masking the fact she’d been hurt. She had, after all, just fallen from the sky.

Six months ago, she would never have imagined she’d be here in Cambodia in December, participating in a mission to rescue wealthy tourists who’d been kidnapped for the fat ransom their families would pay. She’d been a cop, still suffering the loss of her boyfriend and partner during a robbery. Just met the man who would drag her out of hell and show her love was still possible. That guilt didn’t have to consume her. That she had the right—and the duty—to survive and find happiness. No longer did she drink herself into oblivion for the chance to dream of Marc and pretend he wasn’t gone. Now, she had Sam.

Sam…

Ash drew a deeper, sharper breath. He hadn’t been happy about her being pulled from her training with Charter to be part of this team, but the company had wanted a woman along, and she was one of the first female operatives they’d hired. He’d been supportive of her decision to apply for a position with his company as a field operative. Naively, she’d believed that being part of Charter, rather than remaining with the New Orleans Police Department, would mean they’d see each other more often. And she’d needed a change. A new job. New home. Without constant reminders of what she’d lost or the time she’d nearly lost herself grieving after Marc’s death. When Charter had tapped her for this mission, she hadn’t hesitated.

Two of the hostages were nuns—not wealthy tourists like the rest. And Charter had decided she’d make the women more comfortable during the rescue and transit. But her team never made it to the drop zone, a click from the kidnapper’s jungle encampment. Although they’d flown well below radar, someone had alerted the well-organized, well-funded group holding the hostages.

Her helicopter had been in the lead. She’d already shuffled toward the open door, ready to drop down a rope when they’d been hit.

She’d had a split second to react. Thought she’d heard a voice in her ear, telling her to jump. Marc’s voice, but that had to have been a dream. Her subconscious prodding her to take that leap of faith.

Her landing had been cushioned by deep, soft vegetation. She’d landed on her feet. Sort of. Her bottom making contact a split-second later. Even if she’d suffered a break or a spinal cord injury she couldn’t yet feel, she was far better off than the men who’d been aboard her helicopter. She’d had time to jump from the left door when the right side of the helo sustained a direct hit from an RPG. The rest of her team, whom she’d met only two weeks before, hadn’t been so lucky.

She drew deep, ragged breaths. Lungs expanded. No hitch, so her ribs were likely fine. Inside her combat boots, she wiggled her toes and felt them scrape hard leather. Time to move. But she was still afraid. After a few wasted moments, at last, she rolled to her right and came up on her knees. Everything appeared to be working, but maybe she’d sustained internal injuries. Gingerly, she dropped her pack and unlatched the cover, feeling inside for her headset. Her hands closed around thin bands. She donned her headset then the night vision goggles, set her mike beside her mouth, and tapped ON, using the team’s call sign to identify herself. All actions were performed by rote, because if she’d had to think, she would have frozen. “Do you read me?”

“Jesus, fuck!”

She almost smiled at hearing Sam’s break with protocol. But his curses, so harsh in her ear, relaxed her. For the moment, she felt his reassuring presence.

“We see one heat signature a distance from the helo. That you, babe?”

“Yes. I don’t think anyone else made it out.”

“The second helo just crossed back into Viet Nam.”

Which meant she was alone. If anything had gone awry with the mission, the pilots had been ordered to return to Charter’s base camp.

She swallowed hard to still the panic rising in her throat.

“Are you hurt?”

She heard the soft note of hesitation in his voice. Knew he was bracing for the worst. Not sure, yet. “No,” she said, more firmly than she felt.

“Fuck. More heat signatures. Nine of them. Coming from the West.”

Her stomach clamped. Men from the kidnapper’s encampment. “Roger,” she said, her voice clipped. She knew what she had to do. Run.

“Head northeast. You’ll be in deep jungle. It’ll give you cover.”

She checked the illuminated dial of her wrist compass, took her direction, and pushed up into a crouch. As quickly and as quietly as she could, she streaked toward the tree line.

 

A week earlier

Ash turned to her side in her bunk as her thin blanket shifted, making room for Sam to spoon behind her.

They didn’t speak. But the tension that gripped her throughout the day as she ran drill after drill, getting ready for an op that might never get the green light, ebbed. Sam had that affect on her. Made her feel warm and whole…and cherished. But then he trailed a hand over her hip, and a different kind of tension filled her. She murmured and scissored her thighs, giving him room to slip his hand between her legs. When he slid a finger inside her pussy, she was already wet.

She rolled to her back.

He angled his body to cover hers, a thigh nudging insistently for her to open.

When she did, he laid against her, his cock against her mound, while his hands cupped both sides of her face. His kiss was sweet and hot all at once, and soon she followed his mouth as he rubbed in circles, dragging his lips over hers, warming them. She gasped and gave him entry.

The lush, wet sounds they made as they kissed fueled her hunger. She widened her thighs, raised her knees, and pushed upward against him, encouraging him to move inside her, but he had other ideas.

Sam broke the kiss and slid his mouth downward, nipping at her jaw, the side of her neck, the corner of her shoulder. He moved lower still, tonguing the underside of one breast, then rubbing his bristled chin around and across her nipple, until the tip tightened.

She grasped his ears and tried to force him to latch onto her breast, but he chuckled and gave her a quick nip, then trailed downward again, nipping and licking his way over her trembling belly. He fluttered his tongue against her clit, and she jerked her hips upward.

“Too much,” she gasped.

But he wouldn’t be distracted. His lips closed around her burgeoning nub and sucked.

“Sam…Sam…”

She twisted side to side, seeking escape, but his hands locked on her hips to hold her still while he continued his sweet torture. When her thighs shivered, he raised his head. “Missed you, babe.”

His hoarse whisper made her smile. She wished he’d turned on the light when he’d entered her room. But she could imagine his tight smile, his flared nostrils, the heat banked in his eyes. “Missed you, too,” she said, her voice strained and thin. “Talk later?” she asked hopefully.

In answer, he moved upward, scooping up her knees beneath his arms, waiting as she reached desperately for his cock to center it at her entrance. Then he pushed inside her, filling her in one long, forceful thrust.

Oh God. I love this feeling. Ash loved the fullness, loved his heat and his weight. But she especially loved how raw he was right this moment—tenderness flying away as he began moving, because the time apart had been too long for either of them to want to savor a slower climb.

As he thrust, she rolled her hips, greeting each strong, inward drive to welcome him deeper inside her. Uncloaked, his thickness built friction inside her walls that threatened to quickly overwhelm her. Moisture flooded her channel.

“So fucking wet,” he gritted out.

“Yes, yes,” she whispered, aware of the thin walls of the barracks, and wishing they were back in their bungalow on the island, a stucco wall providing them all the privacy they needed. She dug her nails into his buttocks to urge him to move faster and thrust harder. She was nearing the peak…

But he pulled free and rolled her, his hands guiding her hips to lift her bottom. Before she pushed up with her arms, he was already inside her again, stroking deeper. Sweat and her own excitement slicked her intimate flesh. Soon, his groin and belly slapped against her, making lewdly percussive sounds she knew could be heard up and down the barracks hall, but she didn’t care. She was close. She was right there, there…

Rough fingertips slid into the top of her folds and toggled her clit. She cried out and sank her belly to lift her ass higher, wanting more, needing him deeper… When he pinched her nub, she bit her lip and groaned, flying over the edge.

Two strokes and he joined her, come jetting inside her. His movements slowed, and then he pushed hard against her, holding still as the last wet pulses waned. When they fell to the mattress, Sam gathered her close, his cock still lodged inside.

She closed her thighs to trap him there. This part they’d savor as they drew deep, ragged breaths to slow the beating of their hearts.

Sam kissed the side of her cheek. “Get some sleep, that asshole of a drill instructor will have you up at O-dark-thirty. Tomorrow, you’re practicing breaching a fortified location.”

“Wonder who that asshole will be?” she said, grinning.

“How would I know? I’m only here to observe.” But she felt his smile against her shoulder. Sam had been sent to Viet Nam as support for this mission, part of the team that would watch from the ops building when the assault team moved to take the kidnapper’s encampment.

She wondered how he felt about that. Being so far away, in another country, while she entered the hot zone. But leadership inside Charter had nixed his direct participation, seeing as they were married. The team’s focus had to be on the hostages they were rescuing, not on each other.

Ash drew a deep breath before asking the question that weighed most on her mind. “Am I ready, Sam?” She was new to the team. Had trained the least. In a hundred years, she knew she couldn’t match the physical strength of the ex-SEALs, Marines, and Delta Force operatives she’d be accompanying. She couldn’t fail them. Couldn’t slow them down. The risks were too great.

Sam sighed and tightened his arms to give her hug. “Babe, if you weren’t ready, I’d pull the plug. It’s my call. I have half a mind to do it anyway…”

Because he was afraid. She relaxed. He was being straight with her. If he didn’t think she could do this, he’d have her on the next plane home. “I won’t do anything stupid. I’ll stick close to DeGrasso. Mirror his moves. Just as we’ve trained. I’m not going to be a hero, Sam.”

He grunted. “You already are, sweetheart. The fact you’re here, the fact you’re willing, even after knowing exactly what you face…”

“Is it okay if I admit,” she began in small voice, “…that I’m scared?”

“We all are. Don’t think the job ever gets any easier. It doesn’t. Every mission offers its own challenges. You can train for every eventuality, and then shit goes sideways. The training keeps you focused, instead of panicking. You work through the problems.”

She nodded then turned inside his arms, sliding a thigh between his, her arm around his waist. With her cheek on his chest, just above his heart, she listened to the slow, thudding beat. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Thank you…”

“For loving you?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“No, for letting me be me. It’s not like I haven’t seen violence. You know I have.” She remembered the darkest moment of her life, when Marc was shot to death in her presence. But that incident hadn’t been the only time she’d witnessed death or had to draw her weapon. And she’d had SWAT training after Aurora, learning how to enter a scene that was like a war zone. But this thing they trained for now was outside her experience. A vicious criminal gang that would mercilessly torture and kill their hostages if they didn’t get what they wanted. She felt green and unsure—at least when it was dark, and she had all those hours before sunrise to let her imagination carry her away, thinking of everything that could go wrong.

“You can do this, Ash. Besides, DeGrasso knows I’ll have his ass if anything happens.”

She laughed softly at the thought of her team lead being intimidated by Sam. He was a big, burly guy. An ex-Ranger with as many deployments in the desert as Sam had. But the thought of his experience and Sam’s trust in the man reassured her. Kissing his skin, she closed her eyes.