Sanctuary: Delos Series, Book 9 Page 8

  Teren didn’t want to believe Erin, but the test had verified her suspicions. Finally, she told Tony the test results, and the earth fell out from beneath her feet, her life never to be the same again after that horrifying night. He’d beaten her unconscious, and she’d miscarried and woken up in the hospital with her parents, who had shame in their eyes, at her side. Later, after recovering sufficiently, she went on to complete her two-year computer science degree. Coming to Africa had been good for her. Teren had time to grieve, mature, and deal with the tragic choices she’d made when she was so young.

  Now, opening her eyes, Teren stared up at the handmade metal and glass light above her. She wanted to focus on something positive. The light had been made by women here who wanted to learn the art of working with metal and stained glass in order to create beautiful lamps. These lamps usually carried oil in them and were designed to be used by villagers. This one worked on electricity, but it was still beautiful, and Teren appreciated the rainbow colors of the hand-cut glass throughout it.

  Slowly rising, she rubbed her brow, a headache coming on. It always did when she refused to cry. If she cried, she could avoid the headaches. Maybe a warm shower would help to wash the old memories away. At least she hoped so. She felt her throat closing, the tears right there, aching to be shed for so much of herself that she’d lost that awful, life-changing night.

  Undressing in her bedroom, she carefully laid her clothes out on the white chenille bedspread and moved to the bathroom, naked. She turned on the faucets, grateful that each duplex apartment had a hot water heater, so she could enjoy such a luxury in this struggling African country. Most people in Sudan didn’t even have a shower, and one with hot water was unheard of.

  She unclipped her hair, allowing it to fall around her shoulders, placing her favorite comb on the counter. Picking up a washcloth and cinnamon-scented soap, she stepped into the steamy enclosure. Just the soft, warm spray splashing across her head, the water soaking swiftly into her hair and darkening it, running in trickling rivulets across her upturned face, made the past begin to slowly dissolve. Water always helped Teren.

  With her eyes closed, she saw Nolan’s dark, shadowed face once more as they walked across the village and back to their duplex. He had a kind face, not a judgmental one like her father’s. And Nolan had extended his patience to her tonight, even though she’d been somewhat reluctant about allowing him to protect her.

  Nolan had inadvertently struck a deep wound that had never healed. Her three brothers, to this day, barely spoke to her because of what had happened. When the police found her in the motel, unconscious with a concussion, nose broken, cheek fractured, several teeth on one side of her jaw loosened, her family came to her aid. But they never understood why she’d gone to that motel room, although she’d tried to explain it. She’d been too emotional, too charged with grief and guilt, to share why she’d done it.

  Teren would always be grateful that her family had not abandoned her in her hour of need. She’d lain in a coma for three weeks, miscarrying but not knowing about it until later. After she opened her eyes, disoriented, not knowing where she was or how she’d gotten there, she saw that her family had stood watch and prayed for her. Their church pastor and the parishioners had prayed for her as well. And there was always someone, either family or friends, who remained faithfully at her bedside in that hospital, twenty-four hours a day. Teren believed to this day it was the power of their prayers that had pulled her through.

  Lifting her face to the water once more, she allowed those gutting memories to wash away, at least for now. Teren could only remember so much. It became too painful to remember it all at once. Her reaction to Nolan’s trying to control her had brought back her parents’ and her brothers’ attempts to control her. It wasn’t the same, but that’s how she’d started to take it until she caught herself and separated her past from her present.

  As she soaped up her shoulders and arms, washing away the perspiration and fine grit that was always carried on the desert breeze, she felt guilty over not being a more willing PSD. But he didn’t know her past and she hadn’t been aware of why she was balking until just now.

  Teren was sure this wasn’t the first PSD he’d ever been on. She knew very little about Nolan and his life as an undercover military operative and longed to sit down and really talk to him. How badly she wanted him to open up to her.

  Of course, Nolan didn’t know about her ugly past, and his impression of her would surely change if he ever found out. Her lips tightened as she washed her breasts, torso, and belly. Grateful that Wyatt had left her sordid past out of her file, Teren knew she needed to apologize to Nolan. He was doing his job, and Delos was paying him a lot of money to guard her and keep her safe.

  Tomorrow morning when they went for a jog, she would tell him she was sorry and would try to be a better student, a better partner in this PSD dance that had landed at her doorstep. And most of all, Teren had to push aside the memory of that caring touch across her cheek, the way the heat had tunneled downward, her breasts firming up, her nipples puckering beneath her blouse. All the man had to do was lightly touch her, give her that smoldering look of wanting her, and she was already melting and wanting him, too. What was she going to do?

  CHAPTER 7

  Teren had just stepped outside her duplex at five a.m., the western horizon a pale pinkish color, when Nolan joined her. She tried to hide her appreciation of his long, muscular legs encased in a pair of loose-fitting, dark green shorts. His tan muscle shirt showcased the power of his upper chest and broad shoulders. He was not wearing a pistol from what she could see.

  Casually, she nodded in his direction, then quickly fashioned her hair into a long ponytail with a rubber band. Noting his beat-up gray sneakers, Teren smiled. “You must jog regularly,” she said, pointing to his worn Nikes. She had thrown on a sports bra, a sleeveless lavender muscle shirt, and dark purple shorts that came halfway down her thighs.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She did a few stretching exercises on the porch, warming up. “How many miles a day?”

  “Three to five, depending upon what’s going on.”

  “I thought so,” she said. Today, Nolan reminded Teren even more of a young, powerful leopard. There was no fat on this man’s body. Every muscle was honed, but not overdone. She doubted he was a weight lifter and figured he followed a regular daily routine, such as jogging, to keep him in shape.

  Nolan had already observed that Teren was dressed like an American jogger, since here, in the middle of nowhere, there were no conservative males to report on her. Here, she could wear typical American sports clothing and get away with it. He found her athletic build a real turn-on.

  Teren was in excellent shape, thanks to her regular workouts, and Nolan was glad she was, because her personal safety partly depended on it. Much as he hated to think about it, he was here because she might need all her strength in the coming days, and his job was both to protect her and to teach her how to protect herself.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked while doing his warm-ups, stretching his legs like a fencer preparing for a match.

  “Yes, but not for long periods…it was off and on.”

  “Why? Did I give you nightmares last night about all the bad things that could happen if you didn’t lock your windows and door?”

  She met his gaze and saw he was only half joshing her. She instinctively sensed that warm blanket of security he emanated, wrapping itself around her. There was no question that it was coming directly from Nolan to her. She was amazed at how good she felt as it embraced her.

  The teasing in his low voice and the glint in his dark blue eyes made her smile. “I guess I have an overactive imagination, and sometimes it keeps me up at night.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” he grunted, then stood up, ready to run. “I realize it’s hard for a civilian to suddenly be thrown into an op where her life could be at stake.”

  “Well, speaking of that, I owe you an apology fo
r last night,” Teren said, walking with him toward the closed iron gates to Kitra. He slowed down a bit so she could keep up, and they walked beside each other, comfortable in one another’s company.

  “No, you don’t owe me anything. Getting you up to speed is all part of my job. Sometimes people don’t take to it right away.”

  She glanced out of the corner of her eye, luxuriating in the warmth beginning to flow through her, making her feel strong and free. “Look, Nolan, normally I’m not like that. I behaved very immaturely last night.” She broke into a slow jog and he joined her.

  Nolan nodded. He appreciated her gracefulness as she moved beside him. “Forget it,” he said. “It’s a new day.” He was studying how different Teren was from other women who ran. She jogged like an athlete. That was why her body was so taut, sculpted, and beautiful. She had the nicest set of legs he’d ever seen on a woman, and his hands itched to slide up from her slender ankles, feeling her body react as he learned what aroused her when he touched her.

  Catching himself once again, he tucked away those yearnings. Teren was his detail, not his lover, despite what he’d fantasized about last night in a series of torrid dreams.

  “Are you always this patient with other people?” Teren asked. They slowed down as they approached the guard hut and gate. Two soldiers stepped out, saw who they were, and pressed a button. The black wrought-iron gates swung open, and Teren greeted the men by name, smiled, and waved. They came to attention, smartly saluting the pair as they headed out the gate.

  Nolan liked the professionalism of Ayman’s soldiers. Although Teren was friendly with them, they maintained a discreet distance, which was good. As soon as they cleared about a hundred feet, she chose the harder, packed red clay berm instead of the paved road. Nolan silently approved, knowing that the shock of hard pavement could tear at a runner’s joints, while jogging on dirt softened the constant blows, much like a cushion. There was enough room on the berm for both of them, and he automatically looked around, forcing himself to stop watching Teren move. She was so damned sensual, whether she walked or jogged. There was a boneless movement to her he’d rarely seen in anyone except those who had the right jogging DNA. Now he was sure she was part cheetah—her grace was definitely catlike.

  As he heard her easy breathing, he looked forward to the first mile, which would warm them up. Then the fluidity of motion would take over and lead to the runner’s high they both awaited. For Nolan, it was like a moving meditation, and he always looked forward to finding that sweet spot where his body and mind worked effortlessly together. He called it “the song of the body,” a time when he could luxuriate in the strength and power of his muscles.

  But he wasn’t going to be lulled into pleasure now or in the future as long as Teren was his PSD. It was his job to look around, to memorize the flat, red landscape scattered with brush and clumps of green grass.

  He saw a rabbit skitter from one bush to another, and looking up, he saw birds flying overhead, leaving their night roosts in search of food for the day. Not a breeze stirred. The sky was losing its darkness above them, chased away by the sun approaching the horizon, which it would rise above in another fifteen minutes. Right now, the grasslands looked peaceful, even beautiful. When that August sun rose, though, it would quickly turn the land into an oven, brutally baking everything in sight. Most of the grass spreading out in every direction was yellowed and dried-out, but some brave clumps were still green here and there.

  Scanning the curved black ribbon of road ahead, north of them he could almost make out the main highway in the distance. He was lucky he could see in all directions, thanks to the flat land, so it would be easy to spot any predator—on four legs or two—approaching from a long way off. Nolan felt fairly certain that Teren could safely jog out here, but he’d teach her some things to look for to alert her to possibilities, just in case.

  He had noted the faint shadows beneath her eyes this morning. Although Teren had wanted to allay his concerns over her not getting enough sleep, Nolan sensed that either something had kept her from going to sleep or a dream had woken her up—and his gruffness and painting a threatening picture for her of someone hiding and waiting to jump her in her duplex had caused it.

  Nolan knew that she needed to be aware of this disturbing possibility—and she was. Still, he didn’t like upsetting her, because she was a sensitive creature, and he wasn’t surprised that she had a wild imagination. He’d have to toughen her up regardless. Her life might depend upon what he taught her.

  Their footfalls were cadenced and firm. Nolan enjoyed their closeness, their elbows sometimes brushing against one another. The berm was about four feet wide, which didn’t allow him to swing out farther to give her the room she probably wanted. He was pleased that Teren didn’t appear to mind those moments of contact. She hadn’t pulled away, and she hadn’t opted to jog on the highway or asked him to give her more room. Nolan knew he was a thief enjoying those accidental connections with her perspiring flesh. Sweat was trickling down his temples as she increased the pace after that first mile.

  Smiling to himself, Nolan silently applauded her for pushing herself at this point. Her body was fully warmed up and fluid now. This was where the stride increase had to happen if one was serious about jogging—and Teren was very serious. She was all legs, and he watched as she let herself take off, her stride increasing. It allowed him to reach his full stride, which was surprising. Although she was just five feet seven, her legs were long, and she was using her genetic gifts to her advantage, really covering the distance now with practiced ease. She glanced at the watch on her wrist.

  “What are you shooting for?” Nolan asked.

  “Seven-minute miles.”

  He grinned. “You’re a ballsy woman, Ms. Lambert.”

  She laughed. “Oh, I think you can keep up with me, no problem at all, Mr. Steele.”

  He felt good, enjoying their banter and the way her lips curved. Her ponytail swung in cadence between her shoulder blades, like a metronome moving back and forth, establishing a rhythm. She was now running strongly and blushed when Nolan sang out, “Hey, can I compliment you and say you run like a man?”

  She laughed. “Thanks. Compliment accepted!”

  “You’re welcome.” They were rapidly approaching the two-mile mark. “You’ve been at this a while.”

  “Ever since I was nineteen.”

  “Well, you’re good.”

  She gave him a wicked look. “Are you up for a longer run, Steele? Say, nine miles instead of five? I can do it. Can you?”

  Spunky and showing off a bit, he thought. That’s a good sign. “Sure, nine’s good. You’re on.”

  “I guess having a good running partner is inspiring me,” she laughed, giving him a merry look.

  “It doesn’t hurt to go longer or shorter distances every week,” he said. “That way, your body doesn’t get bored and turn lazy on you.”

  “Well,” she said between spaced breaths, “since you’re in my life until this thing with Uzan is settled, I might as well take advantage of you.”

  Oh, no question, Nolan thought. He wanted her to take advantage of him. He was dying to sit and talk to her in depth. He was infinitely curious about what she thought and felt, what was important to her, and what bothered her. He didn’t want to admit that no other PSD he’d been charged with guarding had opened him up as Teren had. It was her. It wasn’t that she’d done anything except breathe and be her beautiful Kentucky self.

  Teren was like a Chinese box puzzle, one Nolan wanted to intimately explore in every possible way. If he told her that now, of course, it would be too soon; Nolan knew she’d run the other way. He’d gotten a taste of that last night when he’d been spontaneous and touched her cheek, curving that lone strand of hair behind her delicate ear. And he yearned to do much more to please her. He imagined watching her turn and twist, caught up in the ecstasy of a man giving her the heat of intimacy—his intimacy.

  No one had inspired such need
in him, not even Linda. Nolan didn’t know what the hell was going on with him or why this was happening now. It had all started in the Artemis briefing room, when the first picture of Teren had been flashed up on that screen. He’d felt as if someone had opened up his heart, tearing away the old walls of grief and loss surrounding it. Those layers of sorrow had dissolved in that moment when he’d stared at her profile, her eyes haunting him, her mouth urging him to ravish it.

  But it was so much more than a physical sensation that had suddenly exploded within him. Nolan couldn’t explain it; he could only feel it. He felt like one of those ancient African baobab trees from Botswana that had such deep roots and were thousands of years old. Teren affected him that deeply. He was so attuned to her moods, her needs, and he sensed, beneath these, her yearnings.

  He’d lain awake for a long time, naked, on top of the bedspread, hands behind his head, staring up at the dark ceiling. He was always in control of himself, especially with his emotions. It was vital so he could function successfully as an operator.

  He was concerned that last night he’d let his control slip when he touched her cheek, and that since then, he’d been thinking nonstop about Teren in a distinctly unprofessional way.

  Damn! He’d had plenty of PSD assignments in his life as a Delta Force operator, but never had his emotions ever gotten out of that internal box where he kept them. But when Teren had stopped, facing him, and the starlight had graced her shadowy, exotic face, something had opened up inside him. Something good, healthy, and whole.