Cindy Dees - Close Pursuit

“You struck me as too...virginal...for that naughty bra. I’m glad to see I underestimated you.”

Her gaze narrowed at the faint challenge simmering in his voice. She reached for the edge of her bra cup and slowly, deliberately, pulled it down. Alex’s gaze riveted on her flesh as the swell of her breast and its rosy nipple were revealed. His gaze flared like an arc welder, and her pulse spiked hard in response.

Without comment, he eased the infant to her breast. The baby was too mad or too inexperienced or both to know what to do, however.

“I apologize,” he muttered.

“For what?”

“For this.” He reached in front of the infant’s mouth with his fingers and pinched her nipple. Hard. She jumped and would have squawked were they not in the middle of a war zone. Involuntarily, her back arched into his hand, trying unsuccessfully to ease the sharp pressure.

“Oww,” she breathed.

He let go and made a small sound of satisfaction. “Better.”

She ventured a look down and realized her nipple now jutted out, swollen and full.

“Rub it on the baby’s face. Across her mouth,” he instructed.

She did so, stunned at how erotic it was to be doing this in front of him. Without warning, the baby latched on and gave a tug that shot sensations all the way to her groin. “Oh!” she gasped.

One corner of Alex’s mouth curved up knowingly. He reached between her breast and the baby with the IV bag and slipped the pinholed corner into the infant’s mouth. She felt the baby swallow against her flesh.

“It’s working,” she breathed. “Do it again.”

Working together, the two of them got a few ounces of IV fluid down the baby, who fell asleep quickly after that. Alex hooked his finger under the lace and lifted it into place, running the back of his knuckle lightly across her nipple in the process. Damned if it didn’t stand up proud and eager again, pushing impudently through the lace. And damned if he didn’t stare down at it, his eyes ablaze, until her breath came short and fast.

“Zip up,” he ordered sharply. “I don’t need either of you catching a chill.”

She scowled at his back until it occurred to her that it might have been sexual frustration putting that edge in his voice. Abruptly, she felt much better as she tucked the sleeping baby into her coat and zipped it up.

“We need to name her,” she announced. “We can’t just keep calling her ‘the baby.’”

Alex threw her a startled look over his shoulder. “You do it. But, for God’s sake, don’t name her something native. Pick something American-sounding.”

“Why?”

“We’ll need to take her back to the States with us. Which means we’ll need to pass her off as our baby. What would you name our daughter?”

Their baby? The notion was both thrilling and scary to contemplate. “How about Charlene?” It had been her grandmother’s name.

“Slut I went to school with was named that. Try again.”

“Alexandra?”

That earned her rolled eyes and a firm, “No.”

“Catherine?”

“You want to name a baby after a violent, dead queen?”

“Fine. You come up with a name you like!”

“Katrina.”

“Sounds a little grown-up for a tiny baby.”

“She won’t be a tiny baby for long. And you can call her a nickname like Kat or Trina in the meantime.”

“Teeny Treeny?”

He groaned under his breath. “Call her Dawn. The sun will be coming up soon.”

She actually liked the symbolism of a new day after the darkness of night. Goodness knew, this child had been born under the blackest of circumstances. And she couldn’t think of any horrible nicknames other kids might come up with for it. “Dawn, it is.”

“Speaking of dawn, we need to take cover soon,” he commented.

“Why?”

“Given the size of last night’s battle, I expect more drones will patrol the area today.”

“Isn’t the U.S. the only country with attack drones? Why would the good guys come after us?”

He whirled and demanded, low and angry, “Since when is the United States presumed to be the good guy?”

Her jaw dropped. She’d been raised among soldiers and cops dedicated to country and service...to the death. It was anathema in her home to suggest anything other than the United States was right and good and decent.

Alex huffed. “Don’t get me wrong. Democracy is a hell of a lot better than the available alternatives. But spare me the religious fervor for mom, apple pie and the Stars and Stripes.”

“What the hell did Uncle Sam do? Pee in your Wheaties?” she demanded.

Pain. Grief. Rage. Desolation. The emotions flitted through his eyes so quickly she could barely register them, let alone catalogue them. What the—

“Not on the list of approved topics for conversation between us,” he bit out. He turned around and stomped off without waiting to see if she followed.

“If there’s a list of approved topics, how come I didn’t get a copy?” she called after him.

A mumbled retort floated back over his shoulder, “Above your pay grade.”

Her eyes narrowed. She wasn’t about to let him get away with blowing her off. But first she had to catch him, and he was practically jogging toward the head of the narrow valley now. She’d always hated it when her brothers used their superior size and strength to ditch her. In retrospect, she’d probably been an annoying pest more often than not, but she’d just wanted to be included. To this day, she hated being left behind.

Her brother’s cryptic request to watch for signs of something weird with Alex resonated in her head. What was up with this guy?

“Slow down!” she finally had to call to Alex.

Nada.

“Please!”

That did it. He stopped without turning around and waited until she panted up behind him. The altitude was a killer when added to a strenuous hike. As soon as she drew within arm’s length of him, he took off again, but thankfully at a more reasonable pace. In a few minutes, he murmured, “Keep an eye out for movement on that slope ahead. We’re getting close to Ghun.”

Mostly, she was occupied staring at the ground so she didn’t twist an ankle or break her neck. She glanced where he indicated and saw a steep rock face looming. She groaned under her breath.

“I see caves up there,” Alex commented. “It’s too early in the year for shepherds to have brought their flocks up here, though, so they ought to be empty. No grass yet.”

She snorted. Nothing grew up here. She was surprised to spot what looked like an organized network of caves all over the steep slope ahead. How could so many people support themselves off the dirt and dust of this valley? No stream of any kind flowed through the area. In the past two weeks, she’d learned just how critical water supplies were to native peoples.

As the first gray of predawn peeked over the mountains, Alex scrambled up the steep hill while she rested a bit. He came back soon and led her to a cave blessedly not far up the slope. Overlapping slabs of stone mostly obscured the entrance. They slipped past the rocks into the dark, and Alex audibly sighed in relief. Had he been that worried, then?

In the green light of a Cyalume stick, she looked around the high-ceilinged cave. The floor was flat, dry and reasonably clean. A few animal droppings and scattered bones proclaimed the presence of some small predator. Off to one side was a stone ledge about hip high covered with a framework of woven boughs and dried grass that looked like a crude bed. Near the entrance, the stone walls were blackened as if fires had been lit there.

A stack of firewood was piled in a corner, and Alex moved to it quickly. In a matter of minutes, he’d built a fire her Boy Scout brothers would have been proud of. Out of the steady wind, the silence in the cave was palpable. And it got on her nerves fast.